Page 50 of This Vicious Dream

He shuts the door behind him with more force than necessary and I glower over my shoulder at him. “Turn around.”

“What happened to you?” His gaze is stuck to the swathe of bare skin my towel doesn’t cover.

I can feel my cheeks heat, and I glance away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t care,” he declares with that arrogance I loathe. “You will tell me.”

My gut roils. I haven’t seen the ruin of my back. But I’ve felt the roughened skin. And Kyldare made sure to describe just how ugly it is. There’s not an inch left unscarred.

He enjoyed using his whip.

“Madinia.”

“Why?”

“So I can kill whoever hurt you.”

I open my mouth, his words stealing whatever I was about to say. It has been a long, long time since anyone cared about my pain.

“Thank you for the offer. But this debt is mine to collect.”

His eyes fire, and I turn, taking a step closer. His gaze doesn’t drift down to the towel I’m clutching, but his fists clench. “Tell me.”

He’s not going to let this go. I sigh. “Did you think the tower was Kyldare’s first option? He needed to torture me enough to cause unthinkable agony but not enough to break my mind. A delicate balance.”

Calysian suddenly looks as if he is the one who was tortured. “And you would have killed him that day. If I hadn’t arrived. You were planning to make him pay.”

“Yes.”

A muscle twitches in his jaw. “I’m sorry.”

The words are stark, unexpected. I stare at him, too shocked to revel in them.

“I’ll kill him for you,” he says.

I shrug. “Why would you care? You chained me. You’d chain me again if you thought I was planning to leave.”

He rears back as if I’ve hit him. “I would never have hurt you. And if you don’t know that by now, you don’t know me at all.” Turning, he storms out of the room.

My gut twists, and I instantly block out his words. I don’t have time for his hysterics, but at least he left his bag. I find one of his shirts and pull it on, braiding my hair while I wait for our meal.

Calysian returns with the food, which is simple but hearty—some kind of pastry with shredded meat and vegetables. “The farrier has a stable, and he said he’ll take care of Fox’s shoe first thing in the morning.”

I nod, taking another huge bite.

We eat in silence and when we’re done, Calysian leaves the tray outside, along with his own clothes. He narrows his eyes when he notices I’ve helped myself to his shirt, but doesn’t say a word.

There’s no fireplace, and I curl into a ball, shivering while Calysian bathes. When he slides into the bed, my eyes pop open.

“What are you doing?”

“Sleeping. You should try it.”

The brute sprawls over most of the bed, forcing me to lay far too close to him or risk rolling off the edge of the mattress.

Fine. He may as well be good for something. I wiggle my toes between his calves.

He jolts. Curses. “You believe those blocks of ice will force me from this bed? You must be jesting.”

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