Page 55 of Silverproof Damsel

The groan I released was full of self-loathing. “You couldn’t be more awkward if you tried to be, Silversmith.” Gently smacking my forehead, I groaned louder, becoming more conscious of what I’d just verbally spewed flooding into my mind. “Fucking rabbits. Really? I mean, thousands of other things to say and you pick rabbits eating their poop! Did you know they eat their poop? No, because no one wants to know that shit. Literally!”Collapsing on the sofa, I stared sightlessly at the murder scene on the gigantic screen.

Had that asshole referred to me as a possession? I wasn’t sure what to feel about what he’d stated. Being referred to as his most precious possession didn’t sound entirely horrible. Right? I mean, sure. I wasn’t a possession, but he’d called me precious. Glass half-full, I guess.

Leaning forward, I slid my focus around the space as curiosity got the better of me. Rising to my feet, my eyes drifted to the corridor that led to his suite. We’d bypassed several closed doors to reach the living room. I couldn’t stand not knowing what was behind closed doors. It would cause my anxiety to spike, meaning I was going to have to snoop through Rhys’ private living quarters.

Chapter Twenty-Four

TheentireOnyxWingwas newly renovated. The pristine walls behind every door I checked reinforced the truth that it had onlyjustbeen remodeled. The first room was lovely, with cream-colored walls and moss-green adornments.

Across the hall from it, there was a more masculine version in navy with a bright white to complement the space. Each had a gigantic bed, with tastefully chosen quilts and pillows to enhance the chamber.

The next room I opened revealed a warm, cozy reading room. On the far side, what appeared to be first edition books filled a fresh grass-colored bookshelf. A wide, comfortable looking sofa chair sat in the corner facing the door. Cream-colored walls added contrast with the planted moss scattered throughout the space.

On the taller shelf, various genres from fantasy and romantasy to depravity filled the shelves. Snorting as I pulled out a book, I smiled at the title. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear he’d hacked into my reading app and then shopped based on my current reads I’d purchased.

I’d purchased a new reading tablet to keep myself sane when I’d left here. Reading was a way to escape the problems, even for a bit. Sure, they’d be there once the world I’d emerged into faded away, but, for the time, I vanished between the pages of a book. Nothing in the world was as therapeutic as a great tale of epic adventure to entertain the mind, while an added secondary tale of true love played out to appease the heart.

Pulling out the hardback edition ofBewitchedby one of my favorite authors, Laura Thalassa, I brought it to my nose, deeply inhaling the smell of freshly printed ink. Flipping the pages, the hum of them turning rapidly caused a familiar pleasure to replace the anxiousness I felt from my earlier word-vomiting I’d done.

Placing the beautifully designed book back into its spot on the shelf, I scanned a few others with warmth rushing to my cheeks. Some of them were pure, blissful, mindless smut. You didn’t read smut to escape; you read it to scratch an itch. Smutty books took care of that need on cold winter days.

A bookmark stuck out from the smuttiest book lining the shelf, piquing my interest. Grabbing the book, I turned to the page. Pulling the bookmark out, I held the page while glancing at the masculine handwriting.

I could do this with you, Love. All you must do is surrender. I warned you that I wasn’t going to fight fair, didn’t I? Think you could hold out as she did? You could be my good girl, and I can play master. If I were you, I’d get to reading this book then the others I’ve left markers in. After all, a well-read woman is the truest treasure a man can have. The entire top shelf is my favorite of your eclectic taste in literature.

Heat blossomed in my abdomen, rushing straight to my core. I’d wondered if he’d thumbed through them, but I’d never imagined he’d read them. Pulling down another volume, I scanned the notes. My lips parted as I recalled highlightingthe exact passage on my reader. Glancing at the note he’d left between the pages, I felt my mouth go dry at what he’d written.

First, you should know that I watched you reading this one. As you peeked over your tablet, your electric blue eyes glittered; you checked to be sure no one saw how excited you were reading this racy, delicious story about a woman forced against a wall. The hero was a little weak for my taste, but I’ll admit he had, rather—intriguing ideas of how to ensure his good girl got off on his cock. Pages 113, 159, and 183 will be what I do to you.

Closing the book, I turned, staring at the entrance. I’d fully expected him to be there watching me. He’d stalked me. I wasn’t sure how to feel about that yet. That wasn’t true. I was highly turned on right now. No matter how much I wanted, I didn’t want to admit the truth. Rhys watched me read smutty books. Why was that truly mind-bogglingly but also extremely hot?

This was exactly why I needed Nyx. She’d assure me I didn’t need to feel dirty because I liked knowing he’d stalked me. He’d violated my privacy. Certainly. It was a violation, but one he’d used to study and learn what I liked. Was it bad? Absolutely. Would my anger be justified? Probably. Was I though? Nope.

I still wouldn’t admit defeat. Rhys surprised me, but he’d left me to suffer. I intended to ensure he felt the same pain he’d inflicted on me. No, I didn’t want to see him suffer physically. Okay, maybe a little. Was I really a masochist or maybe a little of a sadist, too?

No, I needed him to feel the painful need accumulating in his abdomen. He needed to feel the same intensity and ache I felt. I’d never felt the need to fuck as much as I had during the first trimester. It had only strengthened the moment I’d entered the second. If he only felt a sliver of what I had, I’d willingly admit defeat.

Placing the book back on the shelf, I exited the library. The next door down the hall had been left open. Looking up anddown the corridor, I quietly approached it. Pushing the door open, I felt my stomach flip then flop, as tears swam in my vision.

The walls were black with white symbols painted throughout the chamber. A mobile of black stars with white clouds hung over a black crib. It looked as if someone had carved it by hand. On the wall, etched in pure silver, readBullet Van Helsing.

Rhys seemed surprised by the endearment I’d given our child. He’d assumed I’d named our child Bullet, even though I’d only meant it as a nickname or endearment until we’d chosen a better name.

If I hadn’t heard from him by the time our child was born, I might’ve stuck with Bullet. Though I’d preferred to include Rhys in the name of the child we’d created together, I hadn’t been holding my breath that he’d care what I’d name our child, though. Not when he allowed rage and hatred to decide his choices and direction in life.

Wiping at the tears that ran down my cheeks, I stepped deeper inside the nursery. Reaching out, I tested the softness of the stars and moon of the mobile, then wound it up and released it. It slowly spun, while a gentle lullaby played throughout the room. The harmony was enchanting, causing a smile to bloom on my face.

On the far wall, a dresser sat with a white protective pentagram on the wall. Black runes were inscribed at each point, guarding the nursery. Opening the top drawer, I pulled out the tiniest onesie I’d ever seen, fighting against outright sobbing. Folding it before placing it back inside the dresser, I brought it to my nose, smelling freshly washed cotton.

In the corner, a camera blinked a red light. I was sure it was sending alerts to Rhys’ phone, letting him know I was snooping.

Returning my attention to the masterpiece he’d either created or hired someone else to furbish, I began taking inventory. Therehad to be something he’d forgotten that we’d need. I lost time inside the room, cataloging each and everything he’d procured. Rhys hadn’t forgotten anything.

He had purchased gender neutral clothes, but he’d also purchased adorable, tiny, colorful dresses. One of the tiny onesies saidLovely Like My Mommy, which caused a sad smile to play on my lips.

Several tiny suits caused my cheeks to ache from smiling. One after the other, I plucked them from the dresser to examine. Leave it to Rhys to ensure his child had lavish three-piece suits. I was sure they matched his own. Rhys preferred to wear them like the finest suit of armor.

Diapers, diaper wipes, formula, bottles, and several other necessities filled the closet. Rhys had hooked tiny bathing robes behind the door as if the baby would step from the shower and grab one to wear.

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