Page 144 of Her Dark Promise

“No, that will be all.” He nodded and left. I ignored the longing in his gaze as we had just fucked a few hours ago and focused on the snacks he served.

I reached over, picked up one of the small sandwiches, and took a bite. I groaned, “That man has many talents, but I think cooking is where he shines.”

Emilia made a small sound, which interrupted my savoring.

She smiled behind her hand, cheeks growing red. “I can’t speak on his skillset behind closed doors, but if this is better than that, then I can’t begin to imagine.”

While she spoke, I took a sip of my tea and then spit it out in my surprised amusement. Liquid ran down my chin as I stared at her. We looked at each other and burst out laughing. We were laughing so hard that I had to hold my stomach to try and get control of myself. But it wouldn’t end, turning incredibly painful. Every time we quieted down and thought it was over, we would glance at each other and be thrown into another fit of hysteria.

I could feel eyes on our backs and could only imagine what we looked like. Finally, the laughter gradually died down.

“Thank you for inviting me to tea.”

I waved her off. “I shouldn’t have waited this long to invite you.” This is the way that it always should have been.

I devoured the rest of the sandwich and tea, and asked, “Will you tell me about your life before?” I had never asked her, but I had always been curious about the family she left behind.

She looked over at me mid-sip. She took the sip, pondering, and set it back down with a tiny clink. “I don’t remember much of my life before arriving here. Now I know that it was my mind simply protecting me from the horrors that I faced at such a young age. But one thing I do remember is that my aunt used to bake me honeyed bread on special occasions. Similar to the cake Bastian made the other day. It was the last thing I ate before—” she stopped.

“It’s good to know that she wasn’t always cruel.”

She gave me a sad smile and slowly shook her head. “No, she wasn’t. She was kind until the taxes were raised, and she took to drinking more often and would invite random men to our home. I didn’t know it at the time, but that was how we survived until I was chosen for the Reaping.”

“I can’t say that I understand what it means to suffer and starve. I won’t pretend to. But I do know what it feels like to be desperate enough to make decisions that I otherwise wouldn’t have made.”

She huffed a laugh. “My aunt would set me on our table as she kneaded the dough, and I would sit there, listening to her tell me stories about my parents and her life.”

“You don’t remember anything about them?”

She looked away before she set her eyes back on me. “My mother died in childbirth, and my father drank himself to death after. My aunt is the only other family I am aware of.”

I let the silence settle between us, not wishing to push her any more than I already was.

“Which brother is your favorite?” She asked, clearly ready to change the subject.

This question took me by surprise; she was getting rather bold. I looked toward the ceiling, taking a moment to think about it. “I don’t think that I can answer that. I enjoy both of their company equally, but for different reasons.” I thought about their arrival. “Bastian was so passionate and determined to get away from me, but every time he disobeyed me, a thrill shot through me. No one had ever disobeyed me before, which helped with the monotony that had become my life over the years.”

I sighed, blissfully reminiscing. “Then my scholar arrived. I was stunned when he practically proclaimed his devotion to me the moment he came. His intellect drew me to him. He was a breath of fresh air.”

“And you most definitely are Callum’s world.”

We both giggled at that.

“Ah, my little bird. There has not been one moment with him where I felt as though he judged me and my level of depravity. He has always been right by my side, holding my favorite pair of blades to carve up the prisoners. I could completely let go and give in to my darkest desires. For that, I am grateful.

“And what about you?” I inquired.

“What about me?”

“Do you ever dream of a life with a family? A partner? Just… More?”

“I have allowed what happened to me to affect my life for too long. I want to move past it. I would be lying if I said that I didn’t sometimes wonder what it would be like to have a family of my own. Though, I don’t believe that is likely to happen. I don’t think I deserve to have those things.”

“Why would you say that?”

She swallowed and sat up a little straighter, and began to fiddle with the napkin in her lap. “I don’t know what it means to be a mother. A loving wife. What right do I have to possibly bring another soul into this world?”

I took a moment and let her words sink in.

---