Page 499 of Fated to be Enemies

I’d give anything to take my words back—to have just shut my mouth and never said anything at all. I part my lips to tell him I didn’t mean it, but he’s already up from the bed and out the door, the slam of the wood ricocheting through my chest.

Gritting my teeth, I swallow down the sob that tries to break free. I’m getting so fucking sick of how much the guilt of hurting him burns.

I didn’t kill anyone. I didn’t ruin his life.

He ruined mine.

So why does hurting him hurt me so badly?

Yes, we’re bonded, but I can’t remember when I started giving a shit about breaking his heart. How long has it been? And how long have I been fighting myself—fighting him—making us both miserable in the process?

Sniffing back my tears, I rub the wetness from my cheeks as the anger builds. I want to hit something, but the person I want to hit the most is unavailable to me. As pissed as I am, I quickly realize I haven’t eaten in at least twelve hours, and I could eat a moose if my palatal inclinations swung that way.

And that bullshit pisses me off, too.

Opening the door, I make sure the coast is clear before heading downstairs to raid the fridge. I know wraiths have some wonky eating habits, but there’s bound to be food somewhere in this place.

The kitchen walls are a mix of planked wood and horizontal logs, a hearty stone backsplash that mesh perfectly with the granite countertops. The Viking stove sits directly across from a copper sink big enough to bathe in. I crack open the monster of a refrigerator and hit the motherload.

Leftover steak and potatoes, a huge bowl of salad, and a small vat of mixed fruit all get pulled out and devoured before I can stop myself. I’m still angry, but at least I’m marginally sated. I rinse my dishes and load them into the dishwasher to be a somewhat decent houseguest.

I turn to head back to my room, but before I can make it a step, Evan appears right in front of me in a swirl of black smoke.

“Dick move, dude,” I hiss, clutching at my chest. “Quit popping up all over the place. It’s a house, not a continent. You can walk, you know.”

“Don’t sass me, Ari,” she gripes, her fists making a home for themselves on her hips. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

No doubt Rhys tattled on me.

“What’s wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with you? I have a fucking flashback, and because you have me roomed with Rhys—and don’t think we’re not going to have a lengthy, in-depth discussion about that shit—he freaks out watching me recover and starts asking questions. Of course I ripped his head off. Of course I’m contrary and mean. If you had to relive the worst day of your life, you would be, too. And what was with you appearing in a full-fledged phase? And the dudes just watching me go full monkey shit? I need some privacy. I don’t need to be looked at like I’m a freak when I have a breakdown—which I have regularly, or did you forget? I need to hit something that’s not going to hurt me when I hit it, and I need to get the hell out of here.”

This is too much for me. I live alone for a reason.

“I had to room you with him—it’s Dad’s rule,” she says remorsefully, but I’m not buying it.

“Oh, whatever,” I argue. “You’re only using that as an excuse to screw West under your dad’s roof. Don’t lie to me.”

“Yes, that’s a perk, but seriously, it’s Dad’s rule. A guardian can’t protect someone he’s not with.”

“And when the king speaks…” I mutter on a sigh.

“You nod and smile and do what he says. Exactly. I’m sorry this is so hard on you, but you have to cut Rhys some slack. There are things you don’t know. Things I can’t tell you… things that could change how you see him.”

“Cryptic much?” I grunt out with a half-muffled laugh.

“Hey, I tell you what I can, and hold your fucking hand and show you the rest. Just ask him to explain,” Evan shoots back. “Have you ever asked him why? He’d answer you.”

“I know, but…” I trail off, not ready to hear his side of the story.

“But nothing,” she growls, her eyes flashing black for just a moment. “Ask him.”

“That might take a while, and I need to make someone bleed first. Got anyone in mind?” My mind starts reeling just contemplating a serious conversation with Rhys—one where we don’t kill each other.

“You really frighten me sometimes.” Evan is smiling now, so score one for me.

“You scare the shit out of me, too, kid,” I admit, clapping her on the shoulder. “It’s why we’re besties.”

“Touché.” She nods, looping her arm around mine and dragging me to the lowest level of the house—or what I think is the lowest level.

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