The door opened again, and I lifted my head, assuming it was Lottie. Instead, the servant I recognized from the day I’d first had tea as West’s wife stood before me. She had blonde hair and brown eyes, and had been kind enough that day.
Still, wariness filled my veins—were the servants planning some kind of revenge? I was exhausted at the thought. Too many monsters lived in Crowne Hall.
She thrust her hand out, revealing a silky piece of paper. “Read it then hold it over the candle until it’s nothing but ash. You are not safe.”
I took the paper, confusion seeping through me. “What—” I looked up and she was already leaving. “Wait.” I gripped her arm. “What’s going on? Why are you giving this to me?” Why are you helping me?
She looked over her shoulder. “You have friends here, Cinderella.”
She quickly left, leaving me with a letter with fire-marked edges, written in green ink.
Dear little wife,
Meet me in our room.
Thirteen
STORY
I met Grayson in the antique room, under the cover of darkness like two lovers torn apart by war. He leaned against the windowsill that overlooked the ocean and must not have heard me come in, so I didn’t make a sound, using the time to watch him.
I wondered if he watched me like this that first night between us.
I wondered what thoughts spiraled through his head then, and now.
He stared out the open window into the salty black night, his features muted in deep irons, yet still so striking. His profile was one I had memorized, etched into my heart from so many nights sleeping sideways on his pillow.
Plush, rose petal lips.
A slightly broken nose.
And those eyes. Pensive. Powerful. Aching.
Why did I suddenly feel so nervous? Like this was the first time, the first night? As if we didn’t have hundreds of nights between us?
“I…” I dragged my bottom lip, gut clenched. “I got your letter.”
Grayson spun from the windowsill, eyes landing on me, piercing through the darkness.
“I need to tell you everything. Everything before I can’t.” The words rushed out of me, tumbling, spilling. “Everything before…”
Before West noticed I haven’t come back.
Before I literally lost my voice again.
Before…
I’m not safe—we’re not safe.
The servant’s warning still burned like the candle I used to erase the evidence of our meeting.
Fate was once again a runaway boulder.
“I lied,” I said, then looked away. “Obviously.”
Grayson took a step to me and my heart lurched to him, but I couldn’t move. I was frozen by the look in his eyes, the tightness of his jaw.
“I’m so sorry. It doesn’t change anything but…” I swallowed. “I am. Sorry. I tried to write you—I—” I broke off. Grayson stopped with our chests touching and I had to tilt my neck to look into his eyes. How was it that words failed me when I looked into his eyes, even now, even after everything we’d been through?
“He took my phone. I’m sorry,” I managed a whisper again. “I’m—” I broke off, words disappearing in my throat as Grayson’s thumb met my bottom lip. My heart splintered with his gaze as my stomach bottomed out into a deep ache.
Just that single touch, on one small section of my person, was enough to consume.
A gnawing, dripping need stole my breath, my lip throbbing beneath his thumb.
Hold me, touch me, fuck me, bite me—
Wild thoughts spiraled, but of course, Grayson was in control. He pressed his pink tongue to his upper lip, blue eyes roaming every inch of my body, still holding my bottom lip captive. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but it felt like he needed to do this.
Maybe to see I was okay.
To affirm something in his mind.
“You’re real,” he said, and the anguish in his voice ripped my heart apart. “You’re fucking here. You’re fucking real.”
He trailed knuckles down my cheek before flattening his palm across my face. I closed my eyes, leaning into his palm. I disappeared into that touch.
“Did you think I was a ghost?” I joked softly.
“When I went to bed, I saw you in the dark.” He gripped my cheeks with both hands, eyes crazed. “I heard your voice in the crashing of the waves, a raspy whisper floating through the salt air. I’ve seen you and heard you in a hundred different ways and dreams. You’re never there. Not really.”
“Oh,” I whispered, losing my voice.
He cradled my face with his hands, his eyes aching. I desperately wanted to know what caused those eyes to ache. I placed the back of my hand along his cheek.
“I missed the sugar on your lips, Grayson Crowne.”
He thread his fingers through my hair, pulling me until I could almost taste it. “I missed the lemon on yours.” His touch glanced my skin, feathering odd places. My collarbone, my jaw, skirting down my neck and the top of my shoulder, before skating across my rounded belly.
“I thought you were mad,” I said.
“I am,” he said, blue eyes piercing. “I’m mad you lied. I’m mad you put yourself in this position. But I’m furious I ever let you leave in the first place. I’m…” His eyes broke, and he paused. “This never would have happened if not for me.”
I pressed my hand to his face. “Grayson—”
He cut me off, walked me back, consuming my space until I was flush against the very same wall where I’d first begged him for more.
Where I’d first stolen his kiss.
His love.
He dipped his head to the crook of my shoulder, trailing his nose up and down in a mindless, lust-crazed way that made me go cross-eyed and weak-kneed.
“Why aren’t you wearing your locket?”
My eyes flickered down. “He took it.”
Something flashed in his eyes, but he said nothing. His palm stayed on my belly, pressing the empire waist back to feel and expose my bump. Something buzzed and burned his blue eyes. Something I couldn’t read, something deep and hollow.
What happened in the two weeks that I was away to make my Atlas look so weathered? Prisoner. Prisoner. Prisoner.
“What happened?” I asked. “What did they do?”
He pressed his forehead to mine, palm flat on my stomach, closing his eyes.
“How is she doing?” His voice was rough and jagged, like he was holding himself back to ask the question. He parted my thighs with his knee, and I forgot what he’d asked.
Focused only on the perfect pressure his knee applied to that deep, aching part of me. On the primal possession radiating from that grip on my stomach, like he wanted to sear it into my belly, into us.
“Snitch,” he grated.
“She’s perfect,” I breathed the answer on a shivery breath.
His strong fingers came to my face and his touch turned fevered. Desperate. He dragged my lips closer until we shared one breath. Questions in my head died on my lips at the look in his eyes.
Why did a servant give me that letter? What’s going on? Have you found the coin? Are we safe yet? Is this over yet?
The world melted away, the silence amplified by the crashing of the waves and our breathing like one, magical spell. It was just me and Grayson, in the room that had always been our secret from fate.