Page 90 of Monsters in Love

His silver ring burned from where she had it hidden against her breast.

Jaston’s mouth split into a wide grin, the kind that made Isabelle want to scrub herself in a boiling caldron. “Ah, pretty Belle. You know how much I look forward to this evening.”

Behind him, the pair of guards chuckled.

“Of course, Ser,” she said demurely.

“Your mother has told you that I expect you at my side tonight.” Jaston urged his horse forward until the massive warbeast was beside her and he loomed overhead. Her skin crawled as he stroked her hair. “The woman at my side must be the fairest in the room. But that cannot be at the expense of your safety, Isabelle. You must abide by the bishop’s warning.”

“My apologies, Ser.” She lowered her gaze as if chastised.

Her mother wanted this match—had effectively told Isabelle she expected her to abandon Thomas’ memory and allow the captain to court her. Isabelle wanted none of it. Her mother saw only status and protection, while she saw the marks on Jaston’s servants and the way they scurried through rooms like scared mice. Foolishly, she’d thought he’d tire of her and choose one of the many willing women in Windhaven, not redouble his efforts.

Gods.

She'd rather set her hair on fire than dance with this man.

But she had to play nice until she figured out a way to discourage Jaston’s pursuit—without making the lives of her mother and sister worse. No matter what, Emmi’s wellbeing had to come first.

Tipping her chin up, she shielded her eyes from the brightening sky. “I thank you for the reminder.”

“You’ll thank me for more than that, Belle.” He bent down, close enough for her to smell pork and oats on his breath. His mouth curved into a smile cold enough to grace a marble statue.

She couldn’t understand why the other girls fawned over this man, with his cruel mouth and hard gaze. In the days after Thomas’ death, he’d visited almost daily, bringing flowers and promises of a future she wanted no part of. She’d begged him to leave, but that only spurred him on. A creature as terrible as the demons below, who hid his truth beneath armor and the feigned role of protector.

He twirled a lock of her hair around his finger. “So pale. So fine. Such hair must be a sign of your purity and grace.”

Or simply the result of my grandmother in my blood.

There were dozens of people in this town with pitch black hair that were a hundred times purer than her—she hardly said her prayers every night or thought of the bishop with respect.

And, most sinfully of all, she was planning to leave.

But she couldn’t say any of those things. Couldn’t pull away or push him off his horse and laugh as he tumbled ass over tea kettle. Instead, she made herself smile up at him.

“How kind,” she managed.

“Tonight, Belle.” He tugged on her hair and she winced at the sudden pain. “Look your best.”

Oh, Gods.

He means to ask for my hand at the ball.

Her throat closed. She feared she’d be sick all over the stones if she tried to make a sound. Thankfully, he didn’t appear to require a response. With a wave and a flick of the reins, he and the other two guards carried on down the alley. She stood there, hands fisted in her skirts, heart pounding and a false grin stretched across her face, until they disappeared around a corner.

Then her knees gave out and she sagged against the grocer’s cart.

“Please, Gods, no,” she whispered, one hand covering her mouth while the other reached for the silver ring hidden beneath her dress. In the year Thomas had been gone, she’d never once taken it off. The simple band warmed her palm, even as tears slid down her cheeks.I can’t do it. I cannot accept his hand. No matter how terrible that might be for my family.

Agreeing to bind herself to another man would cut her soul to ribbons. Gods. It had only been a year since Thomas had been taken from her.

Not enough time to heal—if she ever would.

Emmi swore she’d find love again, and her mother said she was being a foolish girl and that she was too young to waste her beauty in mourning. Hurry up, Mama said, and choose another—and by another, her mother most definitely meant Jaston, the most eligible bachelor in town.

Isabelle would rather live with the rats—an increasingly likely prospect when she refused Jaston that night.

But what else could she do?

---