Текст книги "The poison daughter"

Автор книги: Sheila Masterson

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Текущая страница: 44 (всего у книги 48 страниц)

I’ve always had an intimacy with pain—an awareness of the many ways that I could hurt. I never fathomed that my body could feel this good.

The trembling passes, and Henry draws away. He licks his lips as he stands and slides his pants off.

He’s gorgeous, bathed in nothing but candlelight that highlights the defined muscles of his torso and the deep lines of his stomach that seem to point directly to his thick cock. He strokes it lazily, his gaze raking over me, wet and spread wide for him at the edge of the bed.

“You are so beautiful.”

I slide back, and he prowls over me. He teases me, rubbing his cock against my sensitive clit until I whine.

Then he pushes into me agonizingly slowly. I want to grab his hips and pull him all the way in, but it feels so intense I can barely do anything but breathe.

He groans against my pulse, and I feel it everywhere. “Let me in.”

It’s different going slow. I’m more aware of every touch, how he’s stretching me to my limits. He draws back and then pushes deeper, and it takes my breath away.

“Henry,” I gasp.

He curses into the crook of my neck. “Fuck. Say it again.”

He pulls back and watches my face as he draws away and pushes in again, and I gasp his name again.

He drops his forehead to my shoulder and takes a shuddering breath. “Divine dammit, you take me so well.”

Henry hikes my left knee up and rolls his hips. The angle feels so good, my whole body clenches. I am helpless to everything he does, moving with him like we’re floating together in the same tide, and it feels so good to be in sync, to be able to kiss him and have him so close while he moves inside me.

He tweaks my left nipple, and I arch up off the bed.

“Bleeding woods, you’re so wet for me, Harlow.”

I don’t think I’ve ever been this wet in my life, and it’s all because he’s so close. Because he’s kissing me as he moves. Because one arm is hooked under my leg, his hand braced against the scar on my lower back, and the other is gripping my shoulder. I’ve never felt this close to someone else.

I’m exhilarated and about to tip over the edge. I can’t stop clenching.

He seems to feel it because his thrusts get more insistent. He pulls back and looks into my eyes with pure adoration.

I know what he does not say because it’s in every touch. Every brush of his lips. In the way he doesn’t bite me or allow me to turn this tenderness into fucking. I know by the raw look on his face that will be burned into my memory forever.

His heart is in his eyes when he looks at me. My climax hits hard. I grip his shoulders and moan as he continues to move in a perfect rhythm to draw it out. He murmurs soft praise into the shell of my ear, and I shiver.

When I can’t take any more and my feet are cramping, I push him onto his back and straddle his hips, sinking down on him in one swift motion. But Henry’s not content to lie back and take it. He sits up and pulls me close, and I want to fight it.

It’s so unnatural, and yet it’s all I want: skin on skin without fear that I’ll hurt him.

Every movement between us is so intuitive. He finds a rhythm with me immediately, his hands cupping my ass as I grind against him. He nips at my neck, and I’m already right back on the edge again.

“Yes, that’s it. Fuck, Harlow, you’re so good.” He kisses my shoulder, murmuring something incomprehensible into my skin.

I arch back and move faster and I’m so close. Henry’s bruising grip on my hips keeps me perfectly in sync. I meet his eyes, and I know how he feels right down to my bones.

In one searing moment I’m made and unmade, by this quiet, gentle, fleeting thing between us. When I look in his eyes, I’m no longer a Carrenwell or the Poison Vixen, or even Henry’s wife. I’m transformed into Harlow.

In that reflection, I see myself for the first time how I might have been. It hurts so much and the ecstasy is so bright and blaring that I have to close my eyes and breathe through the crush of it. He groans and shoves me all the way down on his cock as he shudders and finds his release.

“I love—” It slips out in some sort of brainless sex-drunk stupor. Mercifully, I catch myself mid-sentence.

He must read the panic in my eyes. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. We’re just pretending, right? It’s no big deal, Harlow.”

But I’m not pretending anymore, and it doesn’t feel like no big deal. It feels like he’s woken me up from years of dreaming and now I don’t know how to go back to sleep.

I’m panicked. Everything that opened up in my chest wants to lock down again. I want to flee.

But he holds me firm, one hand pressed to the back of my heart and the other pressed to my scar.

He kisses my temple. “Don’t run. Stay with me.”

My instinct to fight is much more practiced than the instinct to surrender. How dare he throw my whole life off course. It’s unforgivable to leave me stranded here with no path back to my old self. I feel rattled and raw, stumbling on drunken legs.

But I let him hold me. I lean my head on his shoulder and breathe in the cold mountain scent of him. Until my heart slows enough that I can flop onto the bed.

Henry lies down beside me. He whistles as he takes one last look at me before he pulls the blanket up over us.

“I wish you could understand how fucked I was the first time I saw you,” he says. “Divine damn me. You were so stunning. I couldn’t believe you let me sit at your table. And then when I walked into the contract signing the next morning and saw that it was you—that was when I knew how screwed I was.”

“Because you wanted to fuck me?”

He grins and kisses the tip of my nose. “So prickly. No, because you were as clever as you are beautiful…and I wanted to fuck you.”

“At least you’re honest.”

“Some of the time.”

He studies my face in the low light, and I pray to the Divine he doesn’t bring up my mortifying mid-fuck admission. I search for anything else to say.

“My parents have been working with Stefan, and their plan once they killed you was going to be to marry me off to him,” I blurt.

Henry’s eyebrows shoot up. “Another terrible idea on their part.”

“They have few ideas that aren’t.” I brush his damp hair back from his forehead. “Everything will change tomorrow. The rumors about Rafe are spreading. I know it must feel so unsatisfying for you to have this lie be the thing that brings him down, instead of the wrongs he’s actually done. But taking him out of power will only protect other women. If it wasn’t my sister, it would have been me, and if it wasn’t me, it would be someone else’s sister.”

He stares up at the ceiling.

“It doesn’t bring Aidia back, but it does make me feel a little bit better,” I say. “Killing him would probably make me feel most at peace.”

There’s recognition in Henry’s voice when he murmurs, “Because then you’ll know for sure he’s gone—that he can’t do it again.”

We lay there for a while in silence. He stares up at the ceiling, and I lie on my stomach, studying his profile.

“My parents are dead,” I whisper.

Henry goes so still, he’s not even breathing.

“I killed them.”

“How?”

“Slowly.”

I thought he’d be upset that I robbed him of his vengeance, but he just looks relieved.

“I guess you got what you wanted,” I say.

He lets out a surprised laugh. “Technically, I wanted to kill your father personally.”

“I’m sorry I stole that peace from you.” I mean those words.

He runs his fingers down my spine and over the bumpy topography of my scar. “Truth be told, I think you more than earned your own peace. What does that mean for South Hold?”

“Able is still alive, but⁠—”

Henry arches a brow. “But?”

“But he has to die too.”

Henry props himself on an elbow. “He does?”

“He knew what happened, and he’s also been friendly with Rafe in the past. He could be again. I don’t know who should be in charge. I just know who shouldn’t be,” I say.

Henry sighs. “And to think I believed I was the greatest threat to the Carrenwell family.” He brushes my hair to the side and kisses my shoulder. “I’m sorry you had to do that alone.”

“I didn’t. Technically. Kellan helped.”

His eyes widen slightly, but there’s no judgment on his face. He looks at me with resigned affection. “What about the rest of your siblings? How will they react?”

I run a hand over my face. Bleeding woods! I hadn’t given that a single thought. The rest of my siblings have always been distant figures, more scenery I observed than actual people. I knew them only enough to understand their motivations.

“I doubt any of my siblings will be all that broken up over our parents, and they largely lack the ambition to try to fill my parents’ shoes,” I say. “Electra, Carrianne, and Sophie have always been content to be out from under our parents’ roof with families of their own. Thomas has always been a little bit envious of Able being heir and Kellan being captain of the city watch. Frederick is clever, but I think he prefers being connected to power while not bearing the responsibility of being in charge. None of them have my parents’ desire for power—at least not in a general sense. I’m sure they’d all like to have power over certain things in their lives. They just lack that relentless hunger for more.”

Henry hums and traces a finger up the inside of my forearm. “Something has been bugging me. Why did you go along with this marriage?” he asks. “You’d already married once for them before.”

I think of how many nights I sat at dinner, staring at the key to my freedom hanging from the chain around my father’s neck, imagining choking him with it and escaping the city in the dead of night.

“Because my father had a tunnel made under the Drained Wood and I needed the key to it to get Aidia out,” I say.

Henry stares at me in mute shock.

“I could have taken her from Rafe, but there was nowhere in the city where we could have escaped our parents. Even if she used her blessing to disguise us, our family can see magic. We couldn’t hide from them.”

“If it was as simple as just getting a key, why not steal it?” Henry asks.

I blow out a breath. “Because my father keeps it on him at all times, and because it’s not as simple as just getting the key. My brother Frederick is blessed by Harvain with the good fortune to be able to manipulate natural elements. He is critical to expanding and mending the wall around the city, but what people don’t know is that his skill goes well beyond stone. Twelve years ago, when travel through the Drained Wood started to become less frequent and more dangerous, my father started planning. He knew we’d need another way to bring resources in and out of the city. So he asked Frederick to start working on a tunnel.”

Henry listens intently, but his aura is swirling and I can tell he’s angry.

“Originally, he planned to burrow to Mountain Haven, and then from there through the mountain pass,” I say. “He wanted a way to ensure that we could get beyond the reach of the Drained. Every trader who came to Lunameade over the years talked about how the Drained never go beyond the mountain pass. It was meant to be a way out.”

Henry props himself up on an elbow and takes my hand in his.

“I only have assumptions because he’s not transparent, but our people were so scared when the fort fell,” I continue. “They’d never been so willing to sacrifice and come together, or so eager for his leadership. I think he realized that if he gave people a way out, he would lose control of them. He’d be giving up his political power, and if he went with them, he’d surrender his access to the well. While the well isn’t the source of his power, it is the symbol of it. So he kept the tunnel secret from our people and ensured that no one could use it without him.”

“How could he do that? It’s been almost ten years. Surely someone—one of your siblings would have figured out where it is or how to use it,” Henry says.

“He made sure that no one could navigate it on their own. He had Aidia permanently cloak the entrance so it’s hidden by an illusion. The tunnel door can only be unlocked by someone with Carrenwell blood. And every time my siblings return from a trip, Electra, my oldest sister, also blessed by Harvain, uses her memory erasing blessing to remove the memory of every step they took to get through the tunnel other than the one they’re responsible for. So Frederick knows where the entrance is and where each obstacle is located, but he doesn’t know what the obstacles are or how to get around them. Only Thomas knows how to get through the protection traps. And the final gateway at the very end can only be opened with holy fire. So anyone who wants to escape wouldn’t just need the key from my father. They would need his sway over my siblings.”

Henry’s face is a mask of disgust. “So he kept you all trapped.”

“Yes. Of course, it’s not just as simple as getting through the tunnel,” I say. “Once the fort fell, Frederick couldn’t use it as a stopping point. He needed to take the original path farther. It takes a huge expenditure of magic to move dirt and roots and water and stone. It took almost three years for Frederick to complete the work, since he was also making a complicated labyrinth of tunnels and Thomas was designing traps for them. Not to mention that the stone around the mountains is apparently harder to get through. Frederick had to stop at the mountain pass, which means it’s still not a safe route. There are some Drained who prowl that area. You need to come out of that tunnel ready for a fight.”

I don’t feel guilty for telling him all of these family secrets. I’m exhilarated by the defiant thrill of sharing so much about my family and their magic after years spent choking on their lies.

Henry is quiet for a long moment, taking in everything I’ve said. He shakes his head. “He’s so much worse than I thought. I’m sorry.”

He looks so earnest, propped on an arm, his dark waves falling into his eyes. He kisses my palm. “Will you stay with me?”

A knot forms in my throat. Henry wants to keep me. “I’m your wife. Wouldn’t there be some sort of incident if I didn’t?”

He moves closer, pushing me onto my back so he can meet my eyes. “I don’t want to be another person in your life who is placing unwanted obligations on you. If you want to stay here⁠—”

“I don’t want to stay here.” I wasn’t certain, but I know it when I say it out loud. Maybe it’s the fresh grief. Maybe it’s the haunting nightmares of this place.

My heart is in my throat. Because I’m not just agreeing to pretend now. I am admitting that this is real. I’m sacrificing my pride for the sake of my heart. I’m willing to lose for him.

“I don’t want to leave forever,” I say. “I still have work to do here—people to take care of. But I don’t want to always be here. These walls are a cage, and if we’ve really figured out how to stop the Drained from being so bad, maybe travel could be more frequent, not just from the fort but from the outside world.”

I don’t recognize myself. These are thoughts I would normally keep inside my head. But this is what Henry has done to me. He’s made me a woman who believes in things.

He looks at me expectantly. “And?”

“And what? You want me to talk about my feelings, my wolf? Fine. I find you more tolerable than every other person I’ve met. I’m not tired of you yet.”

He smirks. “How romantic. The six words every man hopes to hear at least once in his life: I’m not tired of you yet.”

“What do you want?” I ask, trying to push through the nervous twisting in my gut.

He kisses me, long and slow and languid. “I want to feel you in my bed every night and every morning. I want your constant testing me. I want your absurd love of running. And, bleeding woods, I want my fucking wolf back.”

I laugh. “Be better company, then.”

He leans his forehead against mine. “I want you, Harlow. Stay with me. Just this once, don’t fight me.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

I kiss him, satisfied that I’ve found the person I never want to stop fighting with.

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62HARLOW

It’s dark when I wake and find myself pressed against the scarred terrain of Henry’s chest. I can only tell it’s morning by the noise of people on the street outside the boarding house. Dark Star Festival is always disorienting like this.

I’m tempted to stay curled up in bed and ignore all expectations, but with the only meager light in the room coming from the fireplace, I feel too exposed. I draw away from my husband slowly.

Henry’s face is soft with sleep, his hair curled over his forehead. His lashes are dark and too long for a man to appropriately appreciate. His lips are swollen from kissing me and his stubble has grown in enough that it will be bordering on a beard by the end of the day.

I’ve never spent the night with tender kisses bleeding into gentle passion, whispering, or just lying quietly in between.

It’s alarming how easily I could get used to it.

I roll over and stretch, and Henry immediately tugs me back against him, nuzzling his face into my neck. My body is sore, muscles stretched, skin bitten and stubble-burned, but I feel ready for the day.

In my periphery, I see the steady pulse of his dark purple aura. But something else catches my eye. I squint, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing, and my stomach bottoms out. Long, burnt orange tendrils reach out from the purple aura, subtly stroking along my skin.

My blood runs cold. Fear spikes through me so suddenly that I wrench myself out of bed and to my feet before Henry even registers I’m out of his reach.

“What’s going on?” he says groggily.

I ignore him, searching madly around my room for any of my clothing. I run into the closet, throw on the first set of undergarments I find, and pull a matching bright blue dress on top of it. I pull on my boots and tuck my blade into the right boot, then grab my cloak from the hook by the closet door.

I am so unbelievably stupid. Henry’s aura isn’t unusual because he’s Deathless. It’s unusual because he is twice-blessed.

My mind spins frantically. In the gallery back in Mountain Haven, he didn’t look proud because I liked his sister’s art pieces. He was proud because they were his. They were made from his blessing from Polm. The magic of his art had nothing to do with his sister’s gift for protection and everything to do with his ability to read and manipulate emotions. That’s how he knew so well what each one of them did and how to read my reactions.

When I step out of the closet, my heart is pounding like I just sprinted the entire city wall.

Henry sits up in bed, looking at me with concern. “What’s wrong? Where are you⁠—”

“You lied to me.”

He is so still for a moment. Then he springs to his feet. “Don’t leave yet.”

I’m already halfway to the door.

“I can explain.”

He darts forward and reaches for me, but I spin away from him. Unfortunately, the move puts him between me and the door.

“How did you hide it so well?” I ask.

I pace toward the window. But I did see it, or at least a hint of it. The first thing I noticed about him was that his aura was an unusual shade—dark burnt plum. He hid Polm’s magic inside of Elvodeen’s. Now that I’ve seen it, I can trace back at least ten other times I should have noticed it.

I was so stupid to trust him. Even Gaven didn’t fully trust him⁠—

I stop suddenly. “You killed Gaven.”

Silence stretches between us. The only sound in the room is the crackle of the dying fire. I turn to face Henry.

“I did, but if it helps, it was an accident. I didn’t know he couldn’t be affected by Divine blessings. I couldn’t heal him,” he says.

I feel sick and humiliated. Here he was believing I had outmaneuvered him when he’s been manipulating me with his magic and blaming other people for his murders.

“The paintings in the Havenwood House gallery. They were yours. That’s how you knew how to read them.” I sound so stupid, but my brain cannot keep up with this new reality.

“Yes.”

“Your sister wasn’t twice-blessed. You were.”

His brow is knitted in pain. “Yes, but Harlow, please, it’s not like you think. I didn’t⁠—”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you never used that blessing from Polm on me.” Just speaking those words makes the room feel airless. I am in too deep. I want him to tell me I’m wrong so badly. “Say that you didn’t manipulate me.”

He swallows thickly. “I can’t.”

Those two words make the floor fall out from under me. My world sucks in—tight as a held breath.

I can’t even be mad at him—because of course he did. He had a job to do. He wanted vengeance for his sister. I can’t blame him for using every tool at his disposal to ensure that he got it.

This first manipulation is the deepest cruelty. The doubt it casts is a knife plunged in my gut that will twist any time I doubt him again. The suspicion never leaves, and he knows it. He will tie me up in knots and I will let him. Not because I don’t know better, but because I do, and I still can’t let go of the possibility that it might be different this time.

It’s the foolish dreaming of a gaping chasm of a girl—more dark sucking star than human. I know so much better. I’ve spent my life trying not to feel the aching lack of love in my life because I knew if I found a romance rare enough to fit me, I wouldn’t be able to stop from giving myself over to it.

I was outmatched in this game. I killed my parents. I played right into his hands and I lost.

Now I’m cursed with this marriage—knowing I’m the same to him as I’ve been to everyone else—someone to be used.

The weight of the betrayal is unbearable. I’m so ashamed I shared the parts of myself that I’ve never shared with anyone, and now I have no place to hide. All I can do is run.

“Harlow, please, just stay and let me explain.” His voice is hoarse and pleading. “Don’t run from me⁠—”

He moves to the side enough that I’m already at the door. Henry cages me there. I turn to face him head-on.

I want him to kiss me and erase the last five minutes. I want to stab him in the heart, just to share a hint of the pain I feel.

“Move,” I whisper.

Henry groans and tucks his face into my neck.

“I need to leave,” I rasp. I’m going to lose it if I can’t get out of this room in the next minute.

Henry growls, and his possessive hand comes to my hip. “You’ve infected me with hunger. I would rather break the world than let you go.”

It’s both hot and wrong, because part of me wants him to make me stay, to fuck me into oblivion so I don’t have to think about how hurt and stupid I feel.

I once told Henry I never quit and I don’t break. How wrong I was, because I’m surrendering now.

I tilt my chin up, look into his eyes, and say the one thing I know will get me out of this. “Stars.”

My voice is a hoarse rasp. Henry looks bereft, but he immediately steps back and opens the door. I launch myself into the hall and slam the door closed on the man I love.

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