Page 49 of Bitten & Burned
But Quil didn’t. Not yet, at least. He turned, shoving past Dmitri so hard it rocked him back a step. His boots struck the stone floor, echoing as he stalked away, the sound bouncing around the hollow chamber.
Vael didn’t look at me. He couldn’t. His hand scrubbed through his hair, smearing blood across his forehead. His mouth worked around words that never came. Then he spun on his heel, the train of his coat snapping behind him, and his boots struck the stone with the same echo Quil’s had—retreat, not return—as he followed into the dark.
Cassian turned to me, but I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t bear Anton’s soft, broken, “Darling…”
I couldn’t stand Dmitri’s hand reaching for mine: heavy, warm, too kind.
Didn’t they understand? Didn’t they see me for what I was? Not some little, helpless…birdwith a broken wing. I was a snake. A worm. A spider, full of venom, waiting to tear them all apart from the inside out.
I did the only thing that made sense.
I ran.
I left through another door. Not the same one Vael and Quil had left through. I couldn’t run the risk of seeing them. I couldn’t face them. Not without offering up my toxic veins for penance.
Drain me. Leave me here to rot. Please.
I couldn’t think. I didn’t want them to find me. I couldn’t run back to my rooms, Anton, Dmitri, Cassian… they’d know I was there.They’dcome, soft words on their lips, warmth in their embrace. Promises of comfort that I didn’t deserve.
I choked on a sob and headed to the only place I knew I’d be safe from them. Well, at least, when the morning’s light came. I’d just have to hide, make myself scarce until then. I’d curl up small. Small enough to disappear, and I wouldn’t think. Not until morning. And then I’d… I’d think. I’d figure this out. If it meant leaving like a coward, like the low, sniveling worm I was, or staying and facing my punishment, hoping it would make it better. Make them better.
I burst into the conservatory, looking around, and I began to turn off the lanterns that had been left on. I knocked a few over in my haste; they clattered to the floor loudly, sure to announce where I was. Where the dumb little witchling had slunk off to.
My breath caught in my throat, and I collapsed on the floor, the tears coming whether I wanted them to or not. They came hot and fast, pouring down my cheeks in a messy torrent. My nose ran, snot getting everywhere.
“Gods, shut up, you ugly, horrible, wicked, evil,wretchedthing,” I hissed into the quiet. I let the words settle into my skin, branding me for what I was.
DMITRI
Cassian paced the far side of the room like a caged beast. Every line of his body was taut, his fists clenched so tightly I could hear the leather of his gloves strain.
“She was terrified, Dmitri,” he muttered. “I saw her face. She looked at him like she didn’t know him. Like he was a stranger…”
Anton, sitting rigid in the chair by the wall, spoke so softly I almost missed it. “She was shaking.” His hands were claspedtogether, white-knuckled. “And it’s not just her anymore, is it? She’s ours. The bond, it...” He swallowed hard, eyes flicking to mine. “It’s in every one of us now.”
Cassian nodded. “I… I felt her fear and her confusion…”
“Cassian—” I tried, but he wasn’t hearing me.
“Exactly. We felt it. Every heartbeat. Every drop of blood…” Anton murmured.
Cassian turned to face me, jaw clenched, the air around him thick with fury.
“I should’ve stepped in sooner,” he said. “I saw his eyes. I knew something was off, and I didn’t?—”
“You didn’t cause this,” I said.
Anton’s gaze stayed fixed on the floor. “Still, we could’ve stopped him… Vael, I mean…” The tremor in his voice betrayed the tremor in his hands. “Or tried to.”
Cassian exhaled, sharp and ragged, then slammed his hand against the wall, hard enough to shake dust from the stone. “But we didn’t. We just… stood there.”
I stepped in front of them both, held their gazes. “And what if you had? Cassian, you’d… what? Throw him across the room in front of her? And you, Anton, you’d rather turn a moment of fear into a bloodbath?”
Cassian’s nostrils flared, Anton’s shoulders dropped.
“I should’ve donesomething,” Anton murmured.
“You will. Just not that. Not tonight. She doesn’t need soldiers right now. She needs space. And a soft place to land. She needscare.”
