Page 96 of King of Envy

“Ayana.” My name sounded like a prayer and a curse on his lips. “You know why.”

The air shifted. His words wiped away the melancholy and replaced it with agonizing awareness.

The mutual knowledge of our kiss bloomed between us, sweet and aching. I’d watched enough movies to know affairs were supposed to be passionate things, filled with fire and impulse. There’d been plenty of that at Valhalla.

But this? This was an entirely different form of intimacy.

Vuk was so close I could see every detail of his scars. His shoulders blocked out the rest of the room, and I had the heady sense that nothing existed outside this corner of space.

It was just him and me. His presence filled every molecule of air and lit me up from the inside out. It was like I’d been in hibernation and his proximity was the switch I needed to come alive again.

My pulse beat frantically at the base of my throat.

This was how I wassupposedto feel toward my fiancé, not his best friend. But when it came to Vuk, I’d abandoned “supposed to” long ago.

I reached up and gently touched the burns encircling his throat. The thick, raised skin seared into my fingertips.

He said his brother had been the one who’d been tortured, but the pattern of the burns told me he’d left out crucial details of the story—like how someone had wrapped a rope around his neck and set it on fire.

Vuk must’ve escaped soon enough that it didn’t cause permanent vocal damage, but the evidence of what happened was clear.

“Does this hurt?” My question was a whisper in the silence.

Vuk’s jaw tightened. He shook his head.

I trailed my fingers up his neck and over the line of his jaw.

His eyes were aloof, but his throat moved with a visible swallow when I reached the scar next to his mouth.

I brushed my thumb over the puckered skin. “What about this?” I asked softly.

Another, slower shake of his head.

Other than my voice and the drumbeat of my heart, the air was so taut, a mere breeze could snap it in half.

The drumbeat grew louder.

I kept my eyes on his as I leaned in and slowly, gently kissed the corner of his mouth. My lips lingered on the scar, and I wished I could wipe away the pain and hurt that came with it.

I didn’t have that power. This was all I had to give—the possibility of creating new memories to replace painful ones.

A shudder ran through his body.

I leaned back. My gaze remained locked on his as I reached for my engagement ring and slid it, inch by inch, off my finger.

It hit the carpet with a soft thud.

Darkness swallowed Vuk’s eyes.

He didn’t move. He didn’t touch me. But his hands curled, ever so slightly, into loose fists when I slipped my cardigan off my shoulders.

It drifted to the ground and landed on top of the ring, obscuring it from view.

I was left in nothing but a short, silky dress. No shoes, no sweater, no diamond.

My heartbeat was so loud it drowned out everything else.

There were a thousand reasons why I shouldn’t do this, but they all paled in comparison to the reason Ishould. Being with him was the first thing that’d brought me true joy in a long, long time. If I didn’t take this leap, I would never forgive myself.

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