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Rico shakes his head, preparing to voice his opposition once more when Daphne gives me pause.
“Nicky, you can’t.” My eyes are drawn down to hers, the sight of the still darkening bruises carving my heart from my chest. “Rico’s right. The Devoreauxs are too prominent a family. You can’t take a shot at Lucian without some form of repercussions. That’s not why I came.” Pressing her palms against my chest, she tries to place space between us. It’s a weak attempt. One I do not entertain.
Gaze still locked with hers, I bring my hand to lightly stroke her face, careful to be mindful of her injuries. “Why’d you come, demon? Why’d you run to me?”
Her emerald irises seem to sparkle behind the shine of her unshed tears. “Because the second he hit me I realized I have no idea who I am anymore. And so I ran to the one person who always seems to remind me.”
My mind blanks out. All forms of coherent thought and reasoning cease to exist as the image of a six-year-old Daphne takes shape front and center in my brain. She stands before me, awkwardly pulling at the hem of her grey funeral dress before glancing up at me and extending her hand.
The image morphs. Suddenly Daph’s nine, standing on the front steps of my parents’ house as I descend them to meet her, the breath whooshing from my lungs when she looks to me with a smile.
The scenes move faster now. Daph dancing through my parents’ kitchen. Learning how to drive alongside my sister. Squealing with laughter as I toss her in the pool. Her quick-witted comebacks for each of my smartass remarks.
An endless stream of images races through my mind, detailing the years our lives have been intertwined. All seventeen of them. They string together to form one of the main storylines of my life. The perfectly preserved memories I strive to safeguard—the ones where we were together.
I dip low, scooping her up to cradle her as I stalk past Rico and make my way for the stairs.
“Nick!” he calls after me, though I continue on, unwilling to spare him another second while she’s in my arms.
Daph remains quiet as I reach the top of the landing before turning to head down the corridor that leads to my master suite. I cross the threshold, kicking the door closed behind me and carrying her into my bathroom where I deposit her on the Carrera marble of my oversized vanity.
Bending down, I retrieve a clean washcloth from the stack I keep stashed away below the sink. Turning on the faucet beside her, I drench it in cool water before wringing it out and bringing it to her face. Taking her chin in my hand, I apply the cool rag to the cut on her lip, my own jaw tightening when Daph winces in response.
The sight of her brings back old memories, one I’ve worked hard to suppress. Images of her broken and bruised on the floor flood my mind, my brain flickering between the past and the present until it all bleeds together into one unescapable nightmare.
I’m going to fucking kill him.
I continue to dab at the small red slit, my eyes fixated on the lush curve of her lips that somehow manage to short-circuit my brain every time we share a room. The need to taste her consumes me, drowning me in a wave of madness that I’m no longer strong enough to fight.
Lowering the cloth, my hands come to rest on either side of her thighs as my face moves within inches of hers.
“You need a reminder of who you are, demon?” I discard the rag into the sink, allowing my now unencumbered grip to encircle her waist. With a swift tug, I pull her into me, her legs instinctively wrapping around my hips. Daphne stares up at me with bated breath, eager for my response. “You’re mine.”
My lips press to hers—softly, so I don’t hurt her. The kiss is tender, chaste, yet it breathes life back into my lungs. My body hums beneath the surface, overcome with feelings of euphoria as I succumb to a high I’ve long since feared lost.
She melts into my touch, allowing her nails to skate up the length of my back, taking my shirt with them in the process. My tongue slips out, greedily seeking to cure myself of this insatiable hunger, though when she mirrors the gesture, caressing mine with her own, I know my cravings will never subside.
Despite the boundaries I impose, or the wedges I drive between us, my obsession with her only grows. It overwhelms me, wreaking havoc amidst the order, reducing my world to ruin.
And yet, with each passing encounter, I can’t help but think how I’d rather dance with her amongst the rubble than ever stand alone atop the kingdom.
Daph’s grip tightens on the fabric at the back of my tee, momentarily breaking our kiss as she pulls it up and over my head before my lips find hers once more. I continue to kiss her, drunk with lust as I move to place slow, sensual kisses along the slender column of her throat. Burying my face into the crook of her neck, I inhale deep before nipping at the skin of her collarbone.
“Why’d you send those flowers, Nick?” she whispers just as I press a kiss to the hollow of her throat.
I still, considering how to respond when the significance of her question suddenly dawns on me. “Is that why he hit you?”
Her body tenses against me, and I work to temper the jolt of rage that pulses through my veins. “Daph. Answer me.” My voice remains low, my tone morphing into something sinister, though the hate I feel in this moment is not reserved for Lucian alone.
I know what she’s about to confirm. I did this to her. Me. Once again, I am a source of pain in Daph’s life.
“It isn’t your fault.”
I scoff, stepping back to turn away. Her hand shoots out, gripping hold of my forearm to prevent my retreat.
“Nicky, I…” Her words trail off, echoing within the confines of the marble walls as I look to her in question. She sits, still perched atop the vanity, her eyes suddenly held captive by something at my side. Following her gaze downward, my own comes to rest on the small red lip imprint tattooed in the shape of a kiss to my ribs. It typically remains concealed, its existence unknown to everyone except her.
“You ever gonna tell me who she was?” Daph asks on a swallow, attempting to conceal the pain.
