Page 40 of Wed to the Devil

“Stay for a few minutes,” she whispers. She nuzzles my hand, imploring me. “Please.”

My jaw tenses. Her plea is an arrow straight into my heart. Talia is begging me to stay and protect her while she sleeps.

What kind of monster could say no to that?

“Of course,” I grate out. Resettling myself on the bed, I skate my gaze down her body. I tug the comforter up around her shoulder and gently comb my fingers through the hair at her temple. She makes a soft sound in response, a quietmmof what I assume is pleasure.

No, not pleasure.

Safety.

She feels safe knowing I am watching over her.

Sucking in a breath, I stare down at Talia’s sleeping form. I like her when she’s like this, all sleepy and curled up next to me. When we first met, I would have never thought that I would be right here, with Talia gripping my hand while she sleeps.

The sheer pleasure of realizing that Talia needs me, that she wants me to be close… If my frozen heart is on a glacier, this feeling is a block of ice shearing off and falling away into the nearby water.

I press my free hand to my chest, feeling as though something is loosening and unlocking. Breaking free.

Whatever this sensation is, I want more of it. I’ve only had the tiniest bit but the feeling is addictive.

When I stand up to shed my jacket, Talia makes a sleepy noise of protest and opens her eyes.

“What–”

“Shh.” I lie down beside her, spooning her, and pull her close. “Go to sleep, darling girl.”

A shudder runs through her, but her eyes sink closed once more. She grabs my hand and pulls my arm around her waist, tucking it against her chest.

Is this her way of marking me? Of telling me that I’m hers?

Fuck.

Burying my nose in Talia’s coppery hair, I inhale her scent and try to be calm. As the even sound of her breathing lulls me into the lightest of dozes, a solitary thought swims to the surface of my mind.

Is this what Talia wanted when she called me selfish? It must be.

ChapterThirteen

I'm in the library on my hands and knees the next day, trying to retrieve the chess piece that I carelessly knocked on the ground. The problem is that it seems to have gone skidding into a dark corner and is lurking behind one of the leather couches. I kneel, leaning over the furniture, my hand searching the crack between the wall and the leather back of the couch.

My long white sundress is pulled up around my knees to allow me freedom of movement. But I lean just a little further and hear ripping fabric.

I startle, looking down to see that the deep slit in the dress's silk skirt has begun to tear. When I straighten and move to grab the spot where it's torn, I hear a louder, longer ripping sound.

"Seriously?" I complain, as if my dress can answer for itself. "Fucking fuck."

Dare clears his throat. I look up, my eyes going wide, as though I had done something wrong. He smirks.

"What's going on here?"

My cheeks color. "I knocked a chess piece behind the couch, I think. And then when I was trying to retrieve it, I ripped my dress. Stupid, expensive, flimsy piece ofcrapfabric."

Dare looks me up and down with a smug smile.

"You're pregnant, Talia. You shouldn't be trying to get anything from behind the couch."

"I can get it," I huff. "I'm not that awkward and ungainly yet."

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