Page 47 of Silverproof Damsel

“What about the healer?” I called out to his retreating back. Turning around, he pegged me with an angry, withering glare.

“My healers are where they should be right now. Tending to my sister. They’ll tend to you once they’ve rested and regained their strength. Goodnight, Silversmith.”

“Have fun with your hand, asshole,” I muttered, then spun on my heel, heading for the kitchen.

Chapter Twenty

Inthekitchen,awide range of food had been set out for me to choose from. It was more food than I’d seen since leaving Rhys’ mansion. Fruit, meats, breads, and sweets. You name it. He’d placed it out on a colorful display over the countertops. Plural.

The smorgasbord of treats had already added ten pounds to my hips before I’d even tasted a single morsel. Grabbing up the plate he’d set beside the sink, I piled strawberries, watermelon, pineapple, and a dollop of cream onto the saucer.

Strolling to the fridge sitting in the center of the state-of-the-art kitchen, I attempted to open the double doors, only to find that they wouldn’t open. Did Rhys want me to beg any time I was thirsty or hungry? If his fridge didn’t open, that was the only option I had.

Frowning, I took a step back and then studied the stainless-steel refrigerator with a critical eye. At the bottom, a pedal protruded from the base. Stepping on it, I watched with a victorious smile spreading over my mouth as the doors slowly swung open.

The inside of the appliance was full of soda, sparkling water, juices, and a shocking amount of junk food. My smile vanished at recognizing the familiar items stocked on the shelves of his fancy fridge.

“How the fuck?” I asked aloud with an annoyance burning in my chest.

Rhys Van Helsing hadn’t only stalked me, hunted me down, and become my persistent nightly terror. He’d memorized my habits down to aT. The prick knew what I’d been eating during our time apart. Nyota had either told him, or he’d been doing more than just standing outside my house.

Reaching into the fridge, I yanked out lemon-blueberry muffins, then returned them to where they’d been. Next, I grabbed the gummy bears. I preferred them to be cold because they were chewier and lasted longer.

An entire shelf had been dedicated to pickles. The one beneath it held bottles of orange juice. The one below that was watermelon lemonade. I had discovered the drink by accident. It ended up being my favorite drink. It was so delicious that I gulped it down by the gallon lately. Maybe it was a weird pregnancy craving.

Confusion and hurt swam through my chest as realization sank in. Nyota hadn’t given me her loyalty, but I’d never asked her for it either. I’d expected her to keep Rhys’ secrets from me. In return, though, I’d expected her to keep mine.

She hadn’t given me the same courtesy as she’d awarded her brother. It was obvious now. How else would he know what toiletries I preferred? Unless he’d paid that close attention to what I used when I stayed here, which seemed unlikely.

The toiletries and cosmetics I’d assumed he’d known from his raiding my chambers at E.V.I.E., but his purchasing of watermelon lemonade was proof that he’d grilled his sister for information. Information she’d willingly supplied him with.

Snatching out a bottle of watermelon lemonade, I stepped on the pedal, glowering as the doors closed before me. Turning back toward the table, I stomped to the plate of food and sat before it, fuming at the invasion of my privacy.

I wasn’t sure I was necessarily safer here than I’d been with my family. The men hunting me hadn’t breached the mansion’s defenses. That was promising. What wasn’t promising was that someone inside this place had wanted me to take the fall for Nyota’s murder. Either that, or they intended on using me as a prop to remove Rhys as the alpha.

If it were the case, I’d be in more trouble than I’d bargained for here. Nyota had told me Rhys had been plagued with disputes from other houses. Being challenged by the head of an immortal house wasn’t anything new.

It was to me, though. That wasn’t shocking. I’d stumbled my way into this mess, but something told me I wouldn’t be able to escape it now.

Once I’d polished off the food, I rinsed the plate before setting it back where I’d found it. Strolling back into the bedroom, I tugged the hem of the shirt currently covering my frame.

I brought the fabric to my nose, holding it there. Inhaling Rhys’ scent deeply into my lungs caused arousal to churn in my abdomen. Releasing it, I felt my ire rising. If I ended up being forced to share his bed, how long before I gave in to the carnal hunger of my enhanced libido?

I doubted he’d have to work very hard to get me on my back. Of course, fucking him didn’t require forgiveness. Was it naïve to view sex as an emotional connection like Rhys had claimed? So, it’s just that, right?

Could I separate emotions from the act? Probably not. But I’d also never had a proper hate fucking, either. I wasn’t opposed to experiencing it at least once in this lifetime. Rhys could provide a proper introduction to it.

The fury he held was full of vitriol and brutality. All those emotions churning throughout him combined into the perfect recipe essential for hate fucking the emotions out of me.

The thought was rather tempting, but I’d be damned if I gave in so easily to the noticeable hunger which he currently felt for me. I’d felt it within me, churning like a disease with the speed of virulence, hot and needy as it blistered through my veins.

My eyes widened as it dawned on me that it wasn’t me experiencing red-hot need flushing through my entire system. Rhys’ desire and need were amplified, creating a mirror effect on me. His state of arousal was projecting to me. His incubus genetics sought to entice me with its brutal, ravenously dark hunger.

His demon-half was trying to break down my inhibitions, knocking down any denial I may have felt. I tasted the demon-half and the desire he had to strip me bare. The sinfully erotic images he forced to play out inside my head were erotic and made the chamber spin around me, as if I were riding on a carousel.

Sweat formed and then beaded on my nape, then trickled down my spine. The temperature in the room rose to a sweltering heat. My back arched as my hips flared, inviting him to do as he wanted, even though I didn’t want to concede or admit defeat.

Rhys had made me assume his demon was another entity. It wasn’t, though. He didn’t house two splintered souls. There was only one soul within him. He harnessed it like a weapon against his enemies.

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