Page 67 of Bitten & Burned
Guilt still tugged at me from all directions. But this? This little rabbit with the missing eye? It helped.
Quil had helped.
And the fact thathehad helped, and not the man I thought I loved? The man I thought lovedme? That threw me for a loop.
A good one, in light of all that happened.
That one nice gesture made everything feel… closer. Better. More complete.
Like a coin purse with the drawstring pulled snug.
Everything tucked in. Neat. Tidy.
Like I could finally breathe again.
As I sat up, I wiggled my bare toes against the rug on the floor. I ran my tongue over my teeth and winced. I needed to brush. Needed to wash up. Change my clothes.
Go back to my rooms and freshen up.
It had been four days since the bond snapped tautly and everything shattered. Since I cried on the floor, too overwhelmed to stand. And this was the first time I felt like taking care of myself.
That was something.
I got up, clucked at Fig when he started batting at my skirts and bare ankles. Gods, his tiny claws were sharp.
Little monster.
I grinned and gathered up the rest of my things. At the last second, I also grabbed the black embroidered handkerchief. I’dgive it to Quil personally. If Icouldfind him. He was a difficult person to find if he didn’t want to be found.
But maybe, just maybe… today, he would?
Maybe I was being too optimistic. Too starry-eyed. But I could use some starlight. Starlight felt hopeful.
A small voice in the back of my mind reminded me:Hope is the cruelest beast known to mankind.
I shrugged it off. If my time at the manor had taught me anything, it was this: sometimes the beasts aren’t the ones you should fear. Sometimes, they’re the ones holding you together.
After freshening up, brushing my teeth, and pulling on a new skirt and blouse that didn’t smell like floor and tears, I wandered the halls in the manor.
I wasn’t being aimless. Or I told myself as much.
I was stretching my legs. Exercising. Just walking around.
Just happening to carry a black handkerchief—with messy, silver embroidery, soft from use—and a small, smushed rabbit in my pocket.
The truth? I was looking forhim.
I didn’t find him in the kitchen. Or at least not the ‘him’ I was searching for. I did, however, find Anton meticulously rolling out pastry dough and cracking a block of delicious dark chocolate with a knife. He grinned at me, and I stole a piece of chocolate from the cutting board. It was bitter, smooth perfection as it melted on my tongue.
“I take it you’re feeling better?” he asked, exhaling as he smacked the folded pastry dough with his rolling pin.
“Somewhat…” I said with a grin. “I hope this is something sweet?”
“I’m always sweet for you, darling.”
I laughed and snagged another piece of chocolate. “I’ll be around.”
“I’ll be here… silently treasuring you.”
