Page 57 of Poisoned Vows

“Are you not an outside person?” Nikolai asks as we start to walk down the trail, boots crunching in the snow. It snowed again overnight, and my boots sink into it a little as we walk uphill.

“What gave you that idea?” I narrow my eyes at him as we walk, well aware that I’m already a little out of breath. I’ve had a gym membership for as long as I can remember, but being outside on an uneven trail in the snow and cold is something different altogether.

“You just don’t look like it’s something you’re used to.” He glances at me curiously. “You did say that you didn’t have any hobbies.”

“I didn’t get out much.” I shrug, trying to make it seem as if it’s no big deal.

“By ‘not get out much—’” Nikolai eyes me. “You prefer walking in a park? Working out inside?”

“Yeah, I went to the gym.” I press my lips together, hoping he’ll find a different line of questioning. I don’t want to talk about my life growing up or how sheltered I was with my father.

“Well, I mean—I do the same.” He laughs, a short, sharp sound. “But outdoors is much more pleasant, I think.”

“Is it?” I shiver. Even the coat I borrowed is not enough to entirely stave off the chill.

“You’ll warm up soon enough.” There’s something that almost looks like a genuine smile on his face. “Or—”

“I know. You’ll warm me up.” It’s meant to be sarcastic when I say it, but it comes out almost like an inside joke between us. Like we’re forming some kind of fucking connection.

Which is the last fucking thing I want.

He glances at me again. “That’s really all you did? You just—went to the gym and went home? That doesn’t sound like much of a life.”

I should keep my mouth shut. I shouldn’t let him bait me. But something about the way he keeps pushing frays my already raw nerves to the breaking point, and I glare at him, suddenly too angry to keep from snapping back.

“I was only ever allowed time for one thing,” I bite out, pushing strands of hair out of my face with one hand. “Every second of my life was planned out, spent getting ready to be sold off to a man like your father. Like you. But my father didn’t plan for that arrangement to be a marriage, or for my unexpected new husband to take me fucking hunting of all things. So no, I wasn’t prepped for this particular trip.”

Nikolai is silent for a long moment as we walk. “I’m sorry that your life has been so narrow for so long,krolik,” he finally says. He stops suddenly, turning towards me with an expression on his face that I don’t entirely understand. It looks almost—regretful. Like he’s thinking over something and wondering if he could do it differently.

“Maybe we can change that,” he says finally. “There’s so much more than your world has been, Lilliana. It can be very different.”

“It was supposed to be.” The statement isn’t as sharp as I thought it would be. It feels like that momentary flush of anger has started to drain out of me already, and I feel tired. Tired of the game Nikolai is playing with me. Tired of not understanding what is really going on here—why he married me, why he is so cold and lustful sometimes and seems shockingly normal at others. Tired of wondering when the other shoe is going to drop and the violence and abuse that I expected from whatever arrangement I entered is going to begin in earnest.

For instance, if it’s going to start today, with Nikolai hunting his little rabbit.

He’s still looking at me, standing there in the middle of the trail. “You look good out in the snow, little rabbit.” His eyes flick over my face, and I see a familiar heat in them. “Your nose and cheeks are all pink. I like it when you blush.”

I glare at him, but there isn’t as much venom in it as there usually is. I don’t want to enjoy his compliments. Now more than ever, I shouldn’t. But I feel a warm flush when he says it, likely only adding to the pink in my face that he says he likes. I haven’t received very many compliments in my life, before Nikolai. When my father did compliment me, it always felt tainted. It was never just about me for myself. It was always about what I would be able to do for him, one day down the line. Any beauty or intelligence or charm or grace or humor I possessed were only ever complimented in terms of how it could serve him, eventually.

The compliment sounds genuine. As if he’s saying it because he really does like seeing me flushed and pink out here in the cold. And while I’ve never thought there would be a genuine bone in Nikolai’s body—or any man like him—I can’t help liking it.

He gestures for me to follow him, and I do. What turns out to be even more annoying is that he’s right. By the time we reach the next layer of trees, I’ve started to warm up and even feel a little toasty in my sweater and jacket. I refuse to take it off out of sheer spite, but it’s not the only thing he was right about. Despite the cold, the hike is actually enjoyable. The air is crisp, and there’s the faint singing of whatever idiot birds are out despite the temperatures, and everything smells green and fresh.

“You really like it out here, don’t you?” I look at him curiously. I don’twantto see him as anything but the brutal, arrogant man I met that first night—as anything other than the embodiment of everything I’ve hated all my life. But he’s making it difficult. So much of how he’s been in just the day that we’ve been herehasbeen different. And I don’t know which one is the real Nikolai. Every moment I spend with him just confuses me more and more.

It doesn’t matter,I remind myself.Either way, he married you against your will. So it doesn’t fucking matter.

We round a corner, walking a little ways up a snowy hill where the trail narrows and roughens, and I see the tree stand. My stomach instantly clenches, my knees turning to water as I realize we’re here. If Nikolai’s intentions are as morbid as I’m afraid they might be, I’m going to find out very quickly—and I still don’t know what I’m going to do.

I have to grab onto one of the trees, feeling dizzy with fear, and Nikolai looks at me with what appears to be genuine confusion—though I refuse to trust it. “Are you alright?” he asks curiously, and I force myself to nod.

“Just a little out of breath,” I tell him, and it doesn’t sound like a lie. My voice comes out high and weak, catching in my throat, and he laughs, shaking his head.

“I suppose we need to come out on more hikes like this, then,” he says with a smirk. “It’s one of my favorite activities, when I’m not—”

“Pulling off fingernails?” I suggest, trying for humor, if for no other reason than to try to keep from throwing up with sheer terror. I don’t know if I can pass that off as just being tired from an uphill walk.

“I was going to say working,” Nikolai says dryly. “Once you’re recovered, we’ll go up into the stand.”

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