Page 50 of Bitten & Burned
Cassian stared at me for a long moment, then nodded once—sharp, clipped. He wasn’t calm, not really. But the fight in him was muted, banked like a fire behind glass.
“You go find Quil, make sure he doesn’t do something he’ll regret. And Anton?”
Anton looked up at me, eyes wide, still pale, his teeth worrying his bottom lip.
“Some food, for Rowena,” I said quietly. “Something sweet, tempting, the very place you excel.”
He nodded. “She… shouldn’t be alone.”
“I know, I’m going. I’ll find her.”
“And if he so much as looks in her direction again…” Cassian said.
“He won’t,” I promised. “I’ll keep him away.”
“She didn’t do anything wrong,” Anton said, sounding as if he were trying to convince someone who wasn’t here.
“I know.”
“But Vael?—”
“He’s hurt. He reacted… badly. We can’t judge him, we don’t know what we’d have done.”
“I wouldn’t have thrown her,” Anton muttered. “I wouldn’t have… spoken to her that way.”
I nodded once, reminding him of his objective. “Food. Get her everything she loves. Things she can’t turn down.”
“Consider it done.”
I’d moved with purpose, following her scent in the air she’d left behind—sweet orchids, amber, tea leaves… iron, and salt.
I was quick, but she was likely already hidden somewhere. She’d fled far ahead.
The shatter of breaking glass pulled me toward the conservatory, but the words?—
The words stopped me cold.
“Gods, shut up, you ugly, horrible, wicked, evil,wretchedthing.”.
Her voice cracked—sharp and jagged, each word a blade.
I flinched. Not outwardly, but inside, something recoiled.
I wanted to be as strong for her. To weather the storm without so much as a fracture. But those words?—
Those words splintered me.
Because I’d seen her. Truly saw her. The strength in her spine. The fire in her mind. The kind of light that makes even monsters want tobe better.
And she thought she waswretched.
I pressed my back to the door, teeth clenched. Jaw tight.
I couldn’t take the words from her. Not yet.
But I would not let them settle into her bones without a fight.
I’d hold them out here—every last cruel syllable?—
