Why did she always pick the hopeless cases?
No, no. Not hopeless. Not yet. “Let me verify I understand you correctly,” she said. “Your brother hates me, so you won’t touch me. You make him feel worthy by making me feel unworthy. Yes?”
He stiffened, released her, and scrubbed a hand over his tired features. “Haven’t you done the same to countless others?”
“Haven’t you learned from my mistakes?” she snipped, blinking away tears. Two could play the blame game.
A growl rumbled from him. “I’ll never pass your test, Viola.”
“We can’t know until I actually test you. But I can’t test you until you admit your great love for me.” Bitterness seeped into her tone. “Besides, I’m not offering forever right now. Only a limited-time, too-good-to-miss opportunity to spend more time with me.”
“Time, yes,” he rushed out with an eager nod. “Just give me more time. You wear the cuff while I figure this out. So much has changed. I must unravel the particulars before I act.”
“You misunderstand.” Once her tears had dried, she eased to her feet. “Remove the cuff, or I’m done with you.”
His tortured gaze searched hers, and he repeated, “Just give me more time, kitten.”
Kitten now. Her favorite endearment paired with a final denial. Things began to shatter inside Viola. Scabs sloughed off internal wounds, leaving them raw and oozing. Strength drained, and her limbs quaked.
Even still, she smiled brightly. As she used to smile for her mother. “Of course. More time.” She patted his cheek. “Take all the time you need. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must check on Fluffy. We wouldn’t want him to pee all over your shoes in the closet, would we? Not again.”
Brochan clutched the arms of his chair again as if to stop himself from reaching for her. “Viola. Goddess.”
“No. Nothing more needs to be said. Goodbye, Brochan.” She strolled from the throne room as if she hadn’t a care.
He didn’t call her back.
McCadden waited just outside the doors, his body vibrating with fury. Had he listened in? He stared at her as she passed him, silent.
Somehow, she maintained her casual façade all the way to the bedroom, where Fluffy played his two favorite games in unison: Zoomies and the Floor is Lava, bouncing from one piece of furniture to another at breathtaking speed.
She shut and locked the door, even knowing Brochan had only to flash to enter. Her pet sensed her distress and leaped into her arms to nuzzle and comfort her. “We’re blowing this joint, darling.” She kissed his face and set him down. “Be a dear and fetch Mommy’s ax.”
He raced to the duffel bag she’d hidden under the bed, then returned with a small, golden ax in his mouth. She dropped to her knees and petted his head, cooing words of praise before claiming the weapon.
A plan formed days ago. A good one. Brochan would never be able to find her.
She’d meant what she said.
This was goodbye.
Chapter Eleven
Brochan anchored his elbows on the tabletop and bowed his head, resting his brow in his upraised palms. Had he just made a grave error?
Viola had offered him everything he’d ever wanted. A chance to enjoy her at his leisure. To explore her body and soul, learning the most minute nuances of her past. Everything that made her who she was—the female who fascinated him beyond measure and drew him without cease. He wouldn’t have to wonder what she wanted; she would always tell him. He could ensure she remained well complimented and brimming with satisfaction while she filled his life with excitement and awe.
Could she be happy with someone like him? Truly happy long-term?
Would she move on when he failed her test?
Indecision tore at him. How could he choose Viola over McCadden? But how could he choose McCadden over the goddess? He needed them both in his life. His brother and…his woman. A female he’d kissed and caressed only once. Not nearly enough.
How was he supposed to reconcile his conflicting desires? Especially when he already knew the outcome of her test. He would fail, just like his brother, who’d chosen Brochan over the goddess.
How could Brochan do any less? But how could he let her go?
“Brother?” McCadden cupped his shoulder, drawing him out of his mind.
Without lifting his gaze, he reached up and patted his brother’s hand. While he remained in his chair, McCadden stood at his side.
Would the male forgive him if he courted the goddess, as every fiber of his being demanded?
“She is different with you than she ever was with me.” There was an odd inflection in his brother’s tone. McCadden eased into the chair next to Brochan’s. “After our introduction, Viola never sought me out, even though she planned to use me. I had to seek her. Looking back, I realize she never uttered a kind word about me, only herself. At the time, I was too enamored of her to recognize I was the only one invested in our relationship.”
“But?”
“Despite her changes, I still don’t trust her.”
“I know. And yet…I want her anyway,” he admitted, shame coating every syllable. “I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”
“And if she’s using you the way she used me?”
She might be. How could he know unless he took a chance? Except, a part of him suspected the beauty who’d experienced such a painful childhood might actually mean what she’d said—she liked him.
The pain he’d continued to glimpse inside her never failed to lance his heart. Not to mention the self-hatred she usually hid so well. He remembered the joy she’d evinced as she danced in the rain, and a groan of regret lodged in his throat.
He flipped up his gaze, meeting his brother’s intense stare. “Do you seek to live forever, McCadden?” The words croaked from him.
McCadden jerked as if punched. “I—”
Searing pain suddenly erupted in Brochan’s forearm, on his tattoo, and he hissed. He jolted upright with a single thought. Viola. He jumped to his feet. “The goddess. Something’s wrong.” He didn’t wait for a response, just flashed to her bedroom, shouting her name.
There was no sign of her…only a pool of blood near the hearth. She’d been…she was… Horror punched him. A severed hand rested in the center of the blood—the tiny pink claws curled in with her fingers, except for the middle one, which was extended. The cuff lay next to the appendage. So did an ax.
Realization: She’d done this to herself. She’d chopped off her hand to escape him. All because he had refused to work with her. Instead, he’d worked against her. Of course, she’d left him. Anyone with good sense would have done the same.
Agony birthed a soul-deep roar. Frantic to find her, to help and protect her as she healed—she must heal—he studied his tattoo. The image showed her location was…nowhere.
The inside of his chest raw and stinging, he slapped the map. Shook his arm.
No change. He couldn’t track her. Couldn’t sense her.
Panic sprouted, gaining ground fast. Where had she gone? Think, think. He’d followed her for months. She’d visited hundreds of realms, homes and areas. But she’d frequented one place more than any other.