Page 85 of Twisted Gift

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small black velvet box. His lifts his gaze to my face as he opens it. “Aurora Marshall, will you marry me?”

My eyes widen at the gorgeous diamond caged by an intricate, rose gold band. I blink at it a few times to make sure my eyes aren’t deceiving me before I meet his gaze, nodding as my lips curl into a smile. “Yes. Of course, I’ll marry you.Yes.”

He pulls the ring out of the box and slips it onto my finger. We both stare at it glittering against my skin, and then at each other before we rise to our feet. His arms come around me in the same moment I lean up and brush my lips against his, letting my eyes fall shut as I deepen the kiss. My fingers push through his hair, and his hands squeeze my hips. I miss being able to hear the sound of our combined heartbeats, but as I break the kiss and hug him tight, pressing my ear against his chest, I feel it beating steadily. For me. Forus.

For as long as we both shall live.

22

When I brought Richelle back to the hotel, it was so Tristan could choose how she died. It was a twisted idea, but after everything I’d been through at the facility—atherhands—it felt right even if an inherent part of me knew the whole thing was very wrong.

We spend the morning sitting around the table in Tristan’s suite with Nikolai, Skylar, Allison, and Oliver, discussing how to handle Richelle.

Skylar doesn’t say much, but we already know she wants us to use the doctor to get information on the other Experiment facilities.

Tristan says nothing about his interest in becoming human; I keep my mouth shut.

“She deserves to die,” Oliver says in a low voice.

Skylar narrows her eyes at him. “Why are you here, human?”

Oliver flinches, his cheeks flushing. He doesn’t say anything in response.

“Easy, Sky,” Nikolai says in a soft tone.

She exhales a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry,” she says to Oliver, “but you barely knew Max. I get that you cared about him—maybe even loved him—we all did. We have to look at the bigger picture. We have to make sure Max didn’t die for nothing, okay? It’s what he would’ve wanted.”

Oliver nods, blinking away the wetness in his eyes.

“So, we use her to get some answers,” Allison says. “It’s a good place to start. We need to find out where the other facilities are, what their plans are, and from there we can come up with a strategy to deal with them.”

Tristan volunteered himself to be the one to interrogate Richelle, so I followed him. If he’s going to talk to her about making him human, I need to be there.

Walking down the dim lower level hallway toward the room she’s being kept—the very room I woke up in when Max brought me here—I can’t keep my hands from shaking.

Tristan gives the hand he’s holding a gentle squeeze. “You don’t have to be here, Rory.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Yes, I do.”

“Your heart is trying to burst from your chest, sweetheart.” Tristan’s velvet soft voice reels me back in, and I glance up at him.

“I’m fine,” I assure him. “Let’s do this.”

Tristan stops at the last door at the end of the hall, and the fae guard nods at him, flipping each of the four locks open, letting us into the room. We walk inside, and the guard closes the door, relocking it.

My eyes bounce around the room, bringing me back to the time I spent here. Nothing has changed except that the woman chained to the wall is no longer me.

Richelle lifts her head when she hears us come in. She glances toward the tray of food on the floor next to her, and then looks at Tristan and me. She’s wearing the same pantsuit she was brought here in, but it’s wrinkled now. The rest of her is disheveled and frail looking, but I don’t feel an inkling of guilt. She doesn’t deserve comfort, not after everything she’s done.

Tristan approaches at a slow pace. The lethal precision of each step he takes would make anyone nervous. Richelle’s fear is clear; her eyes are wide, and her hands are shaking where they’re shackled at her sides.

“I’m going to make this very simple,” Tristan says in a calm, level voice. “You will answer my questions, do as I ask, and then you’re free to leave.”

My eyes swing toward him.He’s going to let her go?We didn’t talk about this.

“I-I can’t help you,” Richelle forces out, her voice trembling.

Tristan exhales. “Wrong answer. Try again.”

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