Page 61 of Break Her Heart
But tonight, she wasn’t. She danced, her laughter spilling out. She smiled at strangers, let their hands rest too long at her waist, twirled beneath their arms like she didn’t feel the weight of what this was. Drink after drink, she let herself slip further from the rigid control she always clung to. And gods, she was beautiful in it—infuriatingly beautiful. I watched her from the throne, every touch she allowed from another man stoking the slow burn of jealousy beneath my skin.
MyWinnie.
But not mine.
But still mine.
And here I was carrying her back to our room. I started to run, but she screamed and said she would vomit if I went too fast. So I was fucking walking up this spiraling staircase.
She wouldn’t shut up. Talking about everything—how many men she danced with, how good the wine was, how Simon told a joke that made her laugh so hard she cried. On and on, like she didn’t even need me to respond. I just kept walking, tightening my hold on her with every word. Part of me wondered if that’s what I sounded like when I spiraled—rambling and frantic and pretending I wasn’t breaking apart.
She closed her eyes and nuzzled her nose into my chest, taking a deep breath. “Take me to bed, August.”
I stilled as I stepped into our chambers.
“Excuse me?”
She glanced up at me as if I had two heads, her eyes wide. “I am tired so take me to bed.”
I shook my head, trying to clear the thought of truly taking her to bed out of my mind. “No, you need a bath. I can smell those vampires all over you.”
She trailed a single finger up my chest. “Are you jealous?”
I ignored her.
She let out a huff but didn’t fight me as I carried her to the washroom. I helped her out of her dress—well, the thin pieces of fabric that barely covered her. These dresses tested my control every time she put one on.
Then I noticed the wooden stake strapped to her thigh. Interesting.
When I tried to help her step over the side of the tub, she snatched her hand from mine. “I am perfectly capable of getting in the bath myself.”
I threw my hands up before pulling the stool up that Jane always used and sitting down. Just as she stepped into the bath—steam curling around her limbs like smoke—she slipped. She let out a sharp gasp just as I heard the scrape of flesh against metal. My body stiffened instantly. The scent hit me before I saw it.
Blood.Herblood.
She’d caught her hand on the jagged corner of the table. It was a small cut, but potent. My mouth tingled. Hunger flared like a match struck too close to dry paper.
“Oops,” she said lightly, easing herself into the water as if nothing had happened. She lifted her hand, staring at it with theatrical curiosity before dragging two fingers through the blood. The motion was slow. Deliberate. Seductive.
She turned her head, eyes gleaming with mischief, innocence painted across her face like a dare. “Want a taste?”
Fuck me!
My throat tightened. I hesitated, wrestling against instinct, against the sharp spike of desire from the scent of her blood. My vision darkened for a beat, pupils stretching wide.
Inhale. Steady. Don’t move.
And in the space of that hesitation, memories surged.
Flashes of her standing over the corpses of Legion soldiers, blood dripping from her fingertips, calm as the moon above. She’d killed them so easily—like it meant nothing. Anyone sane would have been repulsed.
But I wasn’t.
Another flash—her kissing me in that alley, her lips stained with her own blood. She didn’t care. She kissed me anyway.
I leaned forward before I could stop myself.
She smiled as she slipped her fingers into her mouth. Her eyes never left mine as she sucked them clean. A soft, satisfied giggle escaped her lips.
