Page 35 of Break Her Heart
No one laughed.
Benedict stared at Lavina. “She’s a witch,” he said quietly. Not with disgust. Not with dread… but curiosity?
“This doesn’t leave this room,” August commanded. “If I hear a whisper of this—if any of you breathe a word—I will kill every last one of you. Carrow needs you. I don’t.”
Simon gave him a slow, tense salute before tossing back his wine. Lavina was only just starting to rise, her limbs sluggish, drained. And Benedict—he hadn’t taken his eyes off me once as if he was reassessing everything he thought he knew about me.
August grabbed my arm and pulled me from the hall. Every step I took echoed with the pulse of stolen power surging through my veins. I felt weightless, unshakable. Moments ago, I’d been dying. Now, I moved like a storm in human skin. One sibling dead. Another trembling from my threat. And now they all knew: I was no fragile girl.
August turned to me, a flicker of alarm flashing in his eyes as he frantically glanced past my shoulder, like he could hear something I couldn’t. “We need to get you changed. Get the blood off of you.”
I clutched the ruined fabric and felt as it stitched itself back together, and the blood disappeared. “There. All better.”
August didn’t respond at first. His eyes stayed fixed on the spot where the blood had just been, his chest rising and falling faster than it should’ve. For a moment, he looked like he was somewhere else entirely—like something inside him was unraveling.
He blinked slowly, as if he was trying to pull himself back into his body. Something was fraying in him. A thread pulled too tight. If I touched it, I didn’t know if he’d snap or bleed.
Then, he scowled, which only infuriated me. He was trying to hide every true emotion from me.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” I crossed my arms. “Did I ruin your chance to get your hands all over me again?”
His eyes raked over me. My breath hitched, and I felt the heat crawl up my throat, blooming over my chest like a fever. I swore I could still feel the imprint of his hands on me from earlier, the ghost of his grip, the heat of his palm.
I shivered, but not from the cold.
“I’ve only done what’s necessary.”
“Right.” I knew he was lying. I saw the pure hunger every time he touched me, putting his scent all over me. He had to force himself to hold back. But how was that possible? If what Lavina said was true, how was I still alive?
“How did you stop yourself? Every time you have bitten me—how did you not drain me dry?”
His eyes darkened. “What?”
“Lavina said the mark drives you mad with need. So why haven’t I done that to you?”
His stare locked on mine, and something unspoken roared beneath the surface. “You’ve done far worse to me, Winnie.”
My breath caught in my throat. “But how do you control it?”
His jaw clenched, and his hand rose with hesitation. He brushed his fingers across the raised scars on my neck like he was punishing himself for putting them there.
“Because if I ever gave in and killed you,” he said quietly, “I’d follow right after. I wouldn’t survive it.”
The words sliced through the space between us like a blade, far too vulnerable for either of us to handle.
For a moment, I saw him. Truly saw him. Not the king. Not the vampire. Just the man who had fallen so completely into whatever this was with me, he didn’t know how to climb out.
But then his shutters came down.
“We won’t cross that line again,” he said, voice rough, retreating behind the mask. “You’re only here to stop him from coming back.”
The words landed like a slap across my cheek, burning with quiet cruelty. They didn’t just draw a line between us… they carved a chasm between us.
He’d been pulling away, slowly, subtly. I saw it. I felt it. But part of me had hoped he wouldn’t say the words out loud.
Now he had.
And something cracked deep inside me. Not like the sting of a wound, but like the soft, sickening break of something once whole finally giving way.
