Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 42412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 212(@200wpm)___ 170(@250wpm)___ 141(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 212(@200wpm)___ 170(@250wpm)___ 141(@300wpm)
Because I’d once felt that the nothingness of death would be a tranquil, peaceful alternative to living a half-life, where a part of me remained in the dark, grimy cell I had been kept in.
I exhaled a slow breath. The silence of the underground tunnels settled around me. I waited a few more minutes before moving. My steps were silent as I walked along the damp corridor. The air was heavy with the scent of wet stone, and the flickering torchlight cast long, wavering shadows. It was all too fucking familiar.
I stopped before the cell. It wasn’t like the one I had been kept in. That’d had a mostly solid door that was left open just enough to let the Craven in because Isbitch had a sense of humor. This one was all bars, and the cell was far more accommodating. There was a chamber pot, and a cot that the golden fuck sat on.
His head was bowed, and strands of blond hair stained with the rusty shade of dried blood hung forward in limp clumps. The chain around his wrist jangled as he picked up the food Millicent had brought him. His lip curled at the bowl of what appeared to be a sloppy stew. He set it down. Leaning against the wall, he tipped his head back and drew up a leg, letting his wrist rest on the knee of his dirty breeches. His fingers moved slowly as if dancing over piano keys.
I drifted closer, my gaze tracking over his face. For the first time, I saw his face bare, the wings normally covering over half of it having faded away.
The freckles were the first thing I noticed. He didn’t have as many as Millicent. They were sprinkled across the bridge of his nose. Just like hers. And fuck, I didn’t want to see it. Didn’t want to acknowledge what I was looking at, even though his cheekbones weren’t as high. Didn’t want to concede that the once-painted wings hadn’t hidden the familiar features—a wide brow that tapered to a slender jaw and a slightly pointed chin. Didn’t want to accept that it was a nearly identical straight nose with a subtle lift at the tip, or that the fucking bow-shaped lips were the same.
Callum looked like her sibling, and I couldn’t deny it. Admitting that didn’t fill me with shock like it had when I’d finally seen Millicent without the painted wings and hair dye.
All I felt was anger at what that meant. At how utterly fucked up it was.
Callum’s fingers froze. A heartbeat passed, and then his chin dipped and his eyes opened, narrowing at the exact moment mine did.
I knew he couldn’t see me; the shadows were thick around me, but he stared like he could. Did he sense my presence? Fuck if I knew, as his gaze shifted away.
Nor did I care at the moment.
I let the shadows drop.
Callum recoiled, the back of his skull thumping off the wall. The blood drained from his face, and his lips parted.
“Hello, Callum.” My lips curved up on one side. “Miss me?”
He didn’t speak, but his body was tense, wound tight as he stared at me like he was trying to figure out how I’d appeared before him. I wondered if he realized that the shadows he’d seen moments ago had been me. Or if he thought I’d just stepped out of them, into the gleam of the wavering torchlight. Then his gaze darted behind me.
“Ironic, isn’t it? How our positions have reversed?” My words were soft but cold. “You behind bars, chained. And me free, unchained.”
His throat worked on a slow swallow. “If you think that gives you the upper hand, you would be wrong.”
“Funny,” I remarked. “You appear incredibly nervous for someone who thinks they hold even a single card.”
“And you’re just as obnoxiously arrogant as ever,” he replied, once more glancing to my left and then right.
“I’m told consistency is key.” I smirked as his nostrils flared. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”
A muscle flexed on the left side of his jaw. “You came alone?”
I didn’t respond.
The hand dangling off his knee fisted, then relaxed. “I doubt you’re here to make sure I eat.”
“I don’t give a shit if you eat or not.”
“Then why are you here?” he asked. “To get your pound of flesh? Exact your revenge on the one who tipped you into bloodlust?”
“You think that left enough of an impression on me that I would waste a single second of my time plotting revenge?” I laughed, and Callum’s gaze darted to the torches framing the door as the flames shrank and sputtered. “On you?”
His pale gaze returned to mine. “You can claim that it didn’t—”
“And you can claim that I, too, wear a mask,” I cut him off. If he was surprised that I’d overheard his conversation with Millicent, he didn’t show it. “You would be correct. I’m wearing a mask right now. One of civility. And in case you haven’t noticed…” I let my arms rest between the bars. “It is cracking. So, I would suggest that we make this one-on-one short and sweet.”