Page 92 of Twisted Fate

Evan grumbles, getting up from the floor, and walks out of the room without a word.

Jules and I sit across from each other in a small, modern dining room. He brings out two plates with chicken breast, broccoli, and roasted potatoes. He pours me a glass of white wine and one for himself before he looks at me. “Eat,” he instructs.

I narrow my eyes at him but pick up my fork and knife. I slice into the chicken, watching the serrated metal cut into the meat. I wonder how fast I could—

“I wouldn’t,” Jules says in a casual tone, lifting a piece of chicken to his mouth. My eyes snap to his, and he smirks. “Your rigid posture and permanent scowl are fairly telling, Aurora.”

Glaring at him, I drop the utensils and cross my arms. “You can’t blame me for thinking about it.”

He tilts his head, chewing and swallowing before he says, “I don’t. However, I know how it would end if you attempted it, and I’d rather not see that come to fruition.”

“How kind of you.”

“There’s no reason for you to get hurt, Aurora. It wasn’t your fault you became a part of this world. The way I see it, once we deal with Tristan, you can go back to your life, and you’ll be happy. I’m giving you an out that benefits me as well.”

“You’re forcing me to take it,” I correct in a sharp tone.

He sets his fork down and takes a sip of his wine. “It’s for your own good. You’ll see that eventually.”

“You know, I’m not sure that I will,” I say. “You don’t need me for what you’re planning. You overestimate Tristan’s feelings for me.” I know how Tristan feels about me, enough to know Jules’s plan to use me against him could work. The thought makes my chest ache. For all those weeks I dreaded seeing Tristan, he’s the only person I want to see right now.

Get it together, blondie. Why Max’s snippy voice is what booms in my head, I’m not sure, but I latch onto it. Regardless of what the voice sounds like, it’s right. I need to get through this myself.

He laughs. “I don’t think so. I’ve seen the way he is with you. That’s never happened before in all the years I’ve known him. Humans don’t do it for him, but you do.”

I push away from the table and stand. “I’m done talking about this. You started this war when you let your people kill the dark fae. You want to destroy Tristan and rule the entire fae race? You’re on your own. Good fucking luck.” I storm toward the door with no idea where I plan on going, but I have to get out of this room, away from him.

I’m about a foot away from the door when he grabs my wrist and spins me around. “Stop,” he says.

“Go to hell,” I snap.

His lips curl into a twisted grin. “Your fear and anger are intoxicating,” he murmurs. “Such strong, genuine emotions.”

My heart races at the intention behind his words. “It’s called beinghuman. You’ve tried it, remember?”

“That’s right.” He blinks, and I stagger back, free of his hold. “It’s a shame that didn’t work out, but college can beso dull.”

My forehead creases. “So then you know what it’s like to spend time with you.” Ah, there’s the inappropriately timed witty comment. Well done, Aurora.

He sucks in a breath that almost sounds like a laugh. “Maybe you need more time to think about my offer.” His eyes flash with an unprecedented anger, and I barely catch sight of his fist before the sickening sight of him goes black.

I blink a few times, my head already pounding, and my ears ringing. I spit out a mouthful of blood before I gag on it and groan.

“You hit her?” Evan says, but his voice sounds far away.

Jules grumbles. “Put her back in the other room. I’ve got shit to deal with.”

I watch his shoes as he walks out, and I barely see Evan approach before my eyes shut on their own.

When I pry open my eyes this time, I recognize the room around me. I’m in Tristan’s bedroom. I struggle to keep my eyes open long enough to see him sitting on the end of the bed and watching me with an angry, dark expression. His hair is a mess. It looks like he hasn’t brushed it in days.

“What . . . ?” I stop. My head is spinning so fast I have to squeeze my eyes shut, or I’m going to throw up.

Tristan shifts closer and lays his hand across my forehead. The dizziness recedes enough for me to open my eyes again and look at him. He brushes the hair away from my face and assesses my appearance.

“Am I dreaming? How did I get here?” I ask, trying to figure it out in my head. There’s a chunk of time missing, but I can’t fill in the blanks.

His jaw clenches, and I wish I hadn’t asked. “You don’t remember?” he murmurs, his eyes on me. “This isn’t a dream, Rory. Evan brought you back to us a few hours ago.”

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