Page 43 of His Dark Cravings

Xavier’s eyes linger on me for a moment longer before he turns to Winter, asking her about the gala. The conversation resumes, smoother now, but the undercurrent of tension remains. I can feel it in the way the dolls glance at me, in the way Xavier’s attention drifts back to me like a magnet.

And I can feel his curiosity, sharp and keen, like a blade pressed against my skin. All I know is that it’s not anger that's fueling his interest.

I keep eating until I finish my food.

Softly, so as not to disturb anyone else, I excuse myself from the dinner table. As I leave, I notice Winter finishing her meal at the same time, standing up shortly after me. She follows me, her footsteps quiet on the plush carpet. I try to ignore her—our bedrooms are in the same direction, after all—but I know she planned to leave with me.

"Everly," Winter says, her voice low and smooth, catching up with me as I reach my door. Her expression is calm, but there's something almost like admiration in her eyes.

I lean against the doorframe. "You followed me," I state.

She steps closer. "I wanted to talk to you. You were... bold tonight." Her tone is neutral, but there's a hint of approval beneath it.

Before I can respond, Sable appears in the hallway, her footsteps heavier, more deliberate. Her eyes narrow as she takes in the scene.

"Having a heart-to-heart?" she asks sharply.

Winter turns slightly, acknowledging Sable without invitation. "Just offering some advice," she replies, her voice unchanged.

Sable's gaze shifts to me, her eyes piercing. "Advice? Or encouragement?"

I meet her gaze steadily, my heart pounding but my resolve firm. "I don't need encouragement. I just need to be myself."

Sable snorts, a harsh sound. "In this house, being yourself gets you into trouble. You think you're special, don't you? That you can defy the rules and get away with it?"

Winter steps forward, her movement slight but significant. "Sable, she's just—"

"No," Sable interrupts, her voice rising. "She needs to understand how this works. You can't just challenge Xavier and expect no consequences."

I straighten, my voice steady. "I'm not afraid of the consequences. I'm just trying to be honest."

Sable's eyes flash with anger, but before she can respond, Winter places a hand on her arm, a subtle restraint.

"Let it go," she advises, her voice soft but firm.

Sable hesitates, then turns and walks away, her departure as abrupt as her arrival. Winter watches her go before turning back to me.

"Be careful," she says, her voice a whisper of caution. "But... well done."

She pats me on the shoulder, a rare gesture of support, before leaving me alone. I watch her go, a mix of emotions swirling inside me. There's a sense of accomplishment, of standing my ground, that I hadn't expected.

As I close my door behind me, I feel like I've passed a test, even if the path ahead is still unclear.

But I hardly did anything. Would Sable really not speak out against Xavier like that? I saw her get punished. Shouldn't she understand where I'm coming from?

The first thing I do when I'm alone is undress and step into a nightgown. It’s pale blue, simple, with delicate lace trim along the neckline. Not provocative, just quiet and comforting. I fold the dress I wore for dinner and set it back in the closet, my movements slow. I'm so tired. Since I wasn't summoned to the dungeon after dinner, I figure a summons won't come.

I'm grateful for that, to be honest.

The book I brought from my old life sits on the nightstand, its spine familiar and worn. I run my thumb over the raised letters of the title, the gesture grounding me for a moment. Reading always cleared my head, let me escape. Right now, I need that escape.

I flip on the bedside lamp and crawl into bed. I pull the covers up to my waist, then open the book to where I left off, ready to put my thoughts to rest.

The knock comes when I’m halfway through the first chapter, sharp and insistent. It startles me, and I set the book aside, my heartbeat quickening. The house is quiet, and I wasn’t expecting anyone.

I toss off the covers and pad to the door, pulling it open to find a doll I don't recognize standing in the hallway. Her face is impassive, her posture stiff.

“Xavier wants to see you,” she says flatly. Then, with more meaning, she adds, “Upstairs.”

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