Page 115 of A Love Most Fatal

“See? Harmless.”

Nothing from this man could ever be harmless, but when I’m hungry, I get faint and if I lose consciousness, my opportunity for escape drops to near zero.

He offers another spoonful, and this time I do take it. It’s soothing on my throat and I am ravenous for more, which he dutifully feeds me.

“Is this what married life will be like?” I ask after he gives me a sip of water through a straw. “Me tied up in the attic and you feeding me three meals a day by hand?”

Cillian laughs through his nose.

“I won’t need to keep you tied up,” he says. “You’ll learn.”

I want to scream at him until I lose my voice, tell him I will never love him, tell him I have no intention of marrying him or learning to keep quiet, that I am smarter than him and always will be, but I take another bite of chicken and rice soup and try to hide the scorching blaze of hatred from my eyes.

Cillian moves onto the bread, biting off a piece for himself before feeding me the rest. I already feel better, marginally more energy now that I have some food in my system. It won’t be enough to get out, though, not when I’m this weak and he’s got bombs on every one of my loved ones.

“What are you thinking, dove?”

“Why do you call me that?” I ask instead of answering.

He takes a bite of the last thing on the tray, bread pudding, and when he shows me his tongue to prove he swallowed it, I let him feed me that, too. It’s intimate having his hand so close tomy face to feed me and wipe a napkin under my lips. I detest the closeness with him.

“Everyone loves a dove,” he says. “They’re romantic birds, some even mate for life.” I chew and swallow the last bite of pudding before he speaks again. “But at the heart of it, doves aren’t so far removed from pigeons, are they? And everyone hates a pigeon.”

Cillian sets the tray down on the chair and walks behind me.

“Jensen,” he yells, and the man I recognize as one of Cillian’s goons steps into the room. Was he just standing silently in the hall awaiting beckoning?

Jensen is a big man, but one of his arms is in a sling, which makes him look a lot less scary than I know he can be.

He looks at me with mild disgust written across his face.

It dawns on me, then. He was shot. ByNate.

“You tried to kill my sister,” I say, my whole body tense. That day on the site. Of course Cillian was behind that too, sabotaging everything. And then Jensenshother. She can’t fight because of him.

“Nothing the bitch doesn’t deserve,” Jensen says. “But it’s not personal. I just wanted to get the teacher.”

A chill runs down my spine at this admission.

Cillian starts to untie the series of ropes that have me locked in place and I’m already formulating a plan to incapacitate them both when his breath skates over my ear.

“Mary will go first if you even think about it, Vanessa. Feel free to test me, I’ve been waiting for an excuse to kill her for years.”

I still, letting this news sink in before giving one jerky nod.

That’s enough for him, I guess, because soon as the rope is undone he’s helping me stand. My legs are completely asleep, and as soon as I try to step, I fall right into his arms, myface pressed against his chest. That cologne is so strong I could almost throw up the whole meal I just ate.

“I hate you,” I whisper.

“That’s okay,” he says and kisses the top of my head.

As soon as I’m able, I stand away from him and try to shake some life into my limbs.

“You look nice in this dress,” he says. “It suits you.”

I look down at the thing. Now that I’m standing, I can see it clearly, a low square cut on my chest and puffy sleeves. A sort of princess look. The kind of dress I would have killed for as a little girl.

“Shall we? There’s a wedding we don’t want to be late to.”

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