But something does feel like it’s shifting between us.
“That’s good, Bellatrix” he whispers, his words fanning my flesh as he presses a slow, faint kiss to the back of my neck. He turns away from me to find sleep, but he whispers one last threatening warning to me before he does: “You shouldn’t.”
Chapter Eighteen
Boominglaughter breaks way through the lulling sound of heavy rain. My lashes lift to the darkness of the room, and for a moment, confusion is all I have to grasp on to.
The memory of Synder’s cottage comes flooding in as more partygoers outside holler and howl with amusement. Excitement. Bloodlust.
It’s festival night.
I push back the warm blanket off my body, and I realize how incredibly rested my mind feels. Have I slept all day? Jesus, do I really find that much comfort in Synder Steel’s bed?
What is wrong with me?
A dwindling fire spreads heat and dim lighting through the circular room. The window I peered out earlier is now locked with a heavy chunk of wood slid across its steel barricade brackets. A bowl and spoon sit in front of the chair. Unused.
Synder isn’t here. He hasn’t been for a long while if the fire is any indication.
Did he lock me inside his home? Has he gone to the king? My bare feet pad across the cold wooden flooring. The moment my hand turns the knob and it doesn’t give way, my fragile heart stutters.
“Shit!” I hiss.
The floorboards shake when I rush back to the other side of the tiny cottage. I pull my boots on roughly, and within seconds, I’m at the shutter windows once more.
But its petite size that I once thought was so damn adorable is infuriating now. It’s too fucking small for me to fit through!
Dammit!
Why did I let my guard down around him? Why did I think things were different between us now? Why was I so fucking stupid to trust the pretty man with a smile like the devil and the horns to match!?
They’re coming for me. They’re coming for me, and now I won’t even be able to protect myself, let alone Ivy!
Metal scrapes against metal, and the door knob turns so slowly, I think I’ll die of heart failure before I ever give these bastards a chance to capture me alive. At the last second, I grip the metal spoon in my fist and round the fire, hunching myself down on the blind side of the swinging door that’s opening. I feel for the magic within me. It lifts in my chest with a sense of reassurance. My muscles string tight. I’m ready.
I’m not strong enough to kill the four members of the Brotherhood and Leavon. But I’ll die trying.
Sleet crackles louder before the door’s pushed softly closed. It’s closed much sooner than I anticipated for a brawl between so many people.
And that’s because only Synder stands there, his piercing eyes narrowing on the spoon that’s now bent in my tightly held fist.
“What, ah, what are you doing, Bellatrix?” His golden eyebrow arches mockingly at me.
A satchel hangs in one of his hands, a long loaf of bread sticking out the top. In his other hand, he carries a white box.
None of his knives are out and ready for the bloodbath my mind had created for funsies. In this strange moment with his hands full of shopping bags and boxes, he’s as threatening as a soccer dad carrying in a trip of groceries.
“Um—Nothing. Nothing.” I casually try to straighten back out the spoon, but it doesn’t help me in the least, remaining U-shaped for both he and I to look at pathetically. “Sorry,” I whisper awkwardly as I stare down at the poor state I’ve left his eating utensil in.
“You’ll really be sorry when you have to eat the soup I brought you with that thing.”
Soup? He brought me soup?
It’s poisoned!my little crazy mind warns me. At this point, if it is, I can only hope it takes me out before I have time to embarrass myself any further.
He lays out a slightly damp loaf of bread. A small knife I haven’t seen before is pulled from his black belt. With care, he cuts off the wet end and sets it aside before slicing two precisely cut pieces. Then he brings out a small jar with a red ribbon adorning the top. It opens with a clatter, and with the same knife, he spreads what appears to be butter across the pieces of bread. I’m in a trance as I watch him work so mundanely but so manically as well. He wipes his knife on his jeans with care before sliding it back in its place with the others.
And then my nose takes in the warmest smell as he pulls out a covered bowl from the bottom of the bag.