Page 147 of Black Castle

“Are you hurt?” Her eyes dart over his body, searching for a wound despite his words. Her eyes catch the faint print on the other side of his shirt. The blotch shapes into a handprint the more she looks at it.

Someone’s handprint.

Someone dying and begging for a second chance.

Her back stiffens, fear curling around her like a vice. But she refuses to let her thoughts wander.

“The box.” Her gaze locks on the object in his hands. “What’s inside?”

Zev blinks at first as if the box has momentarily skipped his mind. Then, he holds it out to her. “It’s a gift,” he says, almost gently. “For you.”

A gift again?

Hesitation laces her movement as she reaches out, taking the box from him. It’s heavier than she thought. That means it’s not jewelry again, not something delicate.

“I hope you like it,” he murmurs, something dark creeping into his voice.

With trembling fingers, she tugs at the neon ribbon, carefully slipping it free. She barely registers the silkiness of the fabric, though a part of her notes absently that she likes the color and that she may use it again under different circumstances.

Finally, she lifts the lid. And the scent of unfresh blood hit her like a hammer. The cold rush of realization sweeps through her, sending a violent tremor coursing through her limbs. Her fingers slacken and the lid slips free from her grasp.

She refuses to look. Refuses to confirm what she already knows.

“Open your eyes,” Zev urges, his voice smooth, expectant.

Tears burn at her lashes, and she hesitantly obeys. Her gaze drops into the box, and horror grips her in its merciless clutches.

In the box is a human heart. Dark, bloody, dead.

A scream claws at her throat but nothing escapes. Only a choked gasp, strangled by shock.

Zev sighs, a sound of exaggerated disappointment. “This was not the reaction I was hoping for,” he muses. “Considering all the efforts I put into this.”

Vivienne can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t fucking think. Her entire body trembles, her pulse a frantic staccato in her ears.

Zev’s fingers suddenly clamp around her jaw, forcing her head back and making her look up at him. His grip is bruising, his breath hot against her skin.

“Where’s the fucking gratitude?” he growls, voice laced with something raw and unhinged.

She whimpers.

“I brought your lover’s heart to your doorstep,” he continues, eyes dark and hollow. “Wrapped it all pretty for you. And you can’t even manage to spare me a ‘thank you?”

Tears spill over her lashes. Her chest heaves, but her voice falters.

Zev tilts his head, gaze flickering over her tear-stricken face. Then, slowly, his lips curl into a grin.

“I didn’t kill him,” he murmurs, his fingers loosening around her jaw only to stroke her face with an unsettling gentleness. “We had a nice chat, actually. About you.”

A sob breaks from her lips.

“He told me about how he fucked you,” Zev continues, his voice laced with something venomous. “How you moaned for him, called his name when my name should’ve been tattooed on your fucking lips already. You gave a part of yourself to him that belonged only to me.”

Vivienne shakes uncontrollably, but he doesn’t let go. He keeps stroking her cheek.

“Don’t look so sad now,” he murmurs. “We’re best buds now. We even made plans. Sleepover tomorrow. Maybe braid each other’s hair.” His grin turns sharp like a blade, wicked. “You should probably join us. I’ve always wondered what a threesome is like.”

A sob cracks her body, fingers clenching in the blanket in a desperate attempt to ground herself.

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