Page 3 of His Bride

“Where—”

“Can you not do anything without questioning everything?”

“That’s not what?—”

He turns and walks, and I suck in a breath as my chest constricts. “Caelian…”

“For the love of God, Giana.” He whips around with fire in his eyes. “For once, can you just do as you’re told? Surely you can show me that fucking courtesy since I just buried my—” He chokes on the words, glancing up at the gray sky, clenching his jaw, and my heart shatters for him.

I hurt…for him.

He takes another draw from his cigarette before flicking it and stomping it into the earth. “Just today, New York.” He fixes his gaze on me again. “Because I just buried my mother.”

Chapter 2

CAELIAN

Iburied my mother today. It’s surreal.

There have been so many times in my life that I’ve felt like crap. But those days don’t compare to the giant vortex of utter and complete shit I feel today, not just because I buried my mother and might just have to do the same for my brother.

No.

Because I caused it all. Over this fucking woman who turns complicated into hang-in-the-National-Gallery kind of modern art.

I breathe out, aware she’s holding back her words. And I’m vaguely grateful. But there’s a part of me that wants her to run her mouth, rile me up and make me feel something other than this gnawing, ass-pounding guilt.

She's standing at a safe distance, her presence a small light against the looming darkness. Her fear—of me, of the situation—is palpable. It pulls at the edges of my consciousness.

“Caelian, are you?—”

“My brother can’t fucking die.” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand like I can erase the words I just spat out. “Alexius can’t die.”

“He won’t.”

I scoff. “Spare me the bullshit optimism.”

“He’s survived for two weeks now. I’d say there’s a lot to be optimistic about.”

“He’s in a coma.”

“Inducedcoma,” she clarifies. “He’ll wake up once his body has properly healed.”

“There’s nothing more dangerous than hope, New York. You should know that. Like the hope you had of escaping all this—” I wave my arms out wide “—yet, here you are, still the trapped little bird you were before you ran away from your father.”

“This is different.”

“Explain to me how this is different.”

She bites her bottom lip, and her gaze drops to the ground as though she's searching for her words in the dust particles hovering in the sunlight. “It’s different…because of you.”

Her eyes find mine again, and it’s one of those rare moments when she lets her emotion paint her features. Where she gives me a glimpse of a vulnerability she fights tooth and nail to hide from everyone.

I could push her for more. Coax more of her truth out of her. Witness her vulnerability turn into a weakness I’ll so easily exploit, ever the predator to her prey. But something holds me back. Maybe it's the honesty in her gaze or the shaky uncertaintyin her voice. I dunno. And I’m not in the mood to try to figure it out.

Slipping my hands in my coat pockets, I turn my back to her. For some fucking reason, it hurts to look at her.

“Alexius is supposed to be untouchable. He’s meant to be bulletproof. Goddammit!” I kick at the dirt, frustration boiling to the surface. “Turns out he’s just as human as the rest of us. Asshole.” I pull a palm down my face and exhale sharply.

---