Page 192 of Cursed Evermore
She frowned and brought her hand to her head. “I tried to portal back to Stormfell, but smoke came out of my hands.” She didn't even realize she'd just confessed to trying to escape. “I got scared, so I put on your shirt.”
“Why?” I searched her eyes.
“To feel safe. It smells like you.”
Those few words had my heart slamming against my ribs and something primal roaring to life inside my chest.
The admission hung in the air between us, seizing me in a chokehold.
Fuck.She was going to be the death of me, and she had no damn idea.
The shirt slipped further down her shoulders as she pushed her hair out of her face. She fixed it, but I was still seeing more of her breasts than I should.
“Where are your clothes?”
Elariya laughed off-key, hiccupped, and fluttered her hands. “They flew away with the smoke. Like little birdies.”
She took another swig of wine, frowning once more at the taste. I could imagine it was strong as hell after three thousand years. I pulled the bottle from her grasp, deciding she needed to stop.
“Give itbaaack.” She reached for the wine, but her hand flopped down onto the desk with a heavy thud.
“You've had enough to drink.”
“No. That can't be. I still feel like shit.” She hung her head like she was about to cry, and when she looked back at me, I thought she was. She held it together, but the glassy look in her eyes told me the tears weren't far. “I still feel like absolute shit. And everything's a damn mess.”
My chest caved in a little, and I succumbed to the sliver of compassion that wormed its way past my darkness. “Because of me?”
She smiled. Not with humor, with ache. “You only just now realized that? You really are a nasty piece of work, Your Grace, Lord Nightblade, or whatever the hells you are. But what did I expect? Great plan, though.” She clapped a little and laughed off-key again. “First, you trick me into thinking you wanted me, and I was such a fool I would have given myself to you without question. Then you act like you care, call me yours, save my life, and make me believe I could remember you when the curse takes my memory. Then you treat me like shit. You should've just dragged me from Stormfell and locked me in your dungeon. Or better yet—rip my soul apart. It would hurt less than this.”
Her words left me hollow, each syllable lashing across my soul, stripping away every defense I'd built. Shame crawled up my spine and settled heavy in my chest making her pain mine.
“Ziyka.” I touched her cheek, but she pulled away.
“Don't touch me. I hate you.”
Menace writhed through me and I threw her a ruthless smile. “No, you don't.”
“Yes.I do,” she drawled and nodded with conviction as if she truly believed what she said with all her heart. “I hate that you're mean. I hate that you're a cold-hearted asshole. And most of all, I hate that if I go home, I'll never see you again. I hate that there's so much to hate about you, but I still like you and I still want you.”
The ice around my heart shattered, leaving me more torn and conflicted than ever. But in this moment, I knew one thing—my one constant. I wanted her with a desperation that could end worlds.
The teardrop I'd been waiting for rolled down her cheek. She reached up to wipe it away but swayed like she was going to fall.
I moved instinctively and caught her. Her hands curled into my tunic, and her forehead landed against my chest. I inhaled the sweet scent of her, tangled with the bitter trace of wine, and held her against me.
“I’m so foolish. What's wrong with me?” she mumbled.
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing at all.” The irony wasn't lost on me—borrowing her words from our fight, when she'd defended herself with the same fierce conviction I now felt.
“Wolfe,” she rasped out my name, a sound that was as refreshing as a drink of water in the desert. “I think I'm drunk.”
“I think so too.”
“I'm so tired. Can we go to bed now?” She melted against me, her soft body pressed to my hard planes.
Bed. Fuck. That word from her lips was pure torture and my damn mind went spiraling into dangerous territory. Every fantasy I'd tried to bury clawed its way to the surface.
“Okay, let’s get you to bed.”
