Scarred(Never After #2)(39)

“Say it again.”

“Say what?” she asks.

“My name, little doe,” I rasp. “Say my name.”

She blows out a heavy breath and I suck it in, desperate to taste her on my tongue.

“Tristan.” Her fingers tangle in the strands of my hair.

I lean my forehead against hers, lust ripping through me until I can’t see straight from how badly I want to strip her bare and fuck her raw. “I should kill you for making me feel this way.”

“So kill me, then,” she whispers, rising on her tiptoes and tugging on my roots, her nose grazing against mine.

“Death would be a gift.” My hips press into hers. “I’d rather see you suffer.”

Bending down, I breathe in her scent, biting back the groan that begs to escape. My lips graze over the top of the hardened wax on her neck, my body coiling tight with the need to latch on to her skin and mark her for myself, so that even if she isn’t mine, she’s ruined for anyone else.

But I won’t allow it.

I hate her for making me feel like this; for making me covet yet another thing that my brother gets. She bewitches me, and I would rather rid her from the face of the earth than exist in a world where she tempts me but leaves me with empty arms.

Wrenching myself away, I back up to the opposite side of the narrow tunnel, the resentment that’s had twenty-six years to marinate against my brother overflowing until it pours through my veins.

“So you’re a witch on top of being my brother’s whore?” I spit.

Her features drop, her gaze narrowing into slits. “I—”

But before she can finish, I spin around and walk away, refusing to acknowledge the way my chest twists when she doesn’t choose to follow.





CHAPTER 21





Sara B.





Going to the tunnels was foolish, but clearly, since coming to the castle, I’ve yet to learn from my mistakes. I thought I would be safe. But I should have known I would meet the prince there. He seems to love lurking in dark and shady corners, and he loves dragging me there with him even more; either to threaten my life or speak filthy words in my ear.

I don’t know how to tame my reaction to either.

And I loathe him.

But there are moments. Ones where he doesn’t seem so terrible. Like when his talented hands draw courage on Simon’s arm, or when he keeps my secrets safe. And whether I want to admit it, there’s no one else I’d prefer to be caught by when I’m sneaking through the castle halls. There’s a level of trust there—one I’ve never found with anyone outside of my father—and I haven’t quite figured out how to correlate the two mismatched emotions.

His brother, however, is an easier one to navigate.

“Thank you for inviting me to lunch today,” I say across the small oval table to Michael.

I dressed for the occasion, assuming that meant we’d be making a public appearance, but I was brought to his office instead, where he had a light snack of sandwiches and tea for us to eat.

He smiles as he wipes a crumb off his mouth with his white cloth napkin. “My pleasure. So, tell me about you, Sara.”

“What would you like to know?” I tilt my head. I’m not stupid enough to believe that he’s curious to get to know me. No man ever is.

He shrugs, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Anything you think is of importance.”

I return his smile. “I’m a simple girl with simple needs.”

He laughs, a hearty booming sound that echoes off the walls, his handsome face thrown back toward the ceiling.

The sound itself is overwhelming in its candor, and I find amusement bubbling in my chest.

“I find that very hard to believe,” he says.

I lift a shoulder. “I’d much rather talk about you.”

“Don’t you read the papers, Sara?” His brow quirks. “What is there to know of me other than what the people have already said?”

His smile widens as he speaks, but there’s a sadness that whips across his features so fast you can barely see it. A pang hits the center of my chest, but I brush it off, reminding myself that I don’t care how he suffers. He deserves to suffer for the pain his family has caused.

“Well,” I whisper. “We don’t get the papers in Silva.”

He laughs. “No? I thought everyone got the papers.”

Disbelief coats my insides. Is he really so obtuse?

I blow out a heavy breath, gritting my teeth to temper the anger that’s simmering at the base of my gut. “There’s no place to print them. No business that can distribute.”

“In Silva?” His forehead scrunches. “I don’t believe it.”

“Well, I think I would know,” I snap. “I’ve lived there my whole life.”

“I was there once as a boy, and it was a lovely town.”

My heart twists at his words, memories of when I was a young child and Silva was still thriving floating through my head. Of times when my father was alive, and people were happy and whole.

“It’s incredible, isn’t it?” I intone. “How quickly things can shift. One minute you’re on top of the world, and the next…”

His amber eyes grow dark. “I suppose it is.” He takes a sip of his tea before grinning. “Well then, what do you wish to know about me?”