Page 70 of Realm of the Wicked

He raised a dark brow, daring me to contradict him when he knew I couldn’t. ‘You were going to go to law school, but swapped to an accounting diploma when you took custody of Grace. You didn’t question it for a moment when they called, either. You just did. Because you love your sister more than you love yourself, which is why you ended up here in the first place.’ Damien stared down at me, breathing hard.

‘How do you know all that?’ I couldn’t disagree, not with a bit of it, because every single fact he spewed at me was entirely accurate.

Damien’s lips twisted into a smirk. ‘I won’t ever let them take your soul, Stella.’ His face softened. ‘And even if they did, I’d remind you of all the things that make you, you.’

He pulled me to him, and gently pressed his lips against mine. I let him take my weight, let myself fall into him. It wasn’t until he finally let me go that I realized he never answered my question.

25

DAMIEN

The names bled into one another on the paper, black smearing into the next until they were nothing but a puddle of mud staring back at me. A Rorschach drawing at its most basic. Good versus evil. Hope versus despair. I stared, hoping to see something, anything that would give me some insight into my current insanity. Because that’s what it had to be. I had to have lost my mind somewhere along the way. Maybe one too many jumps back and forth, one too many souls given up freely.

All but the most important one. Stella’s.

I sighed, pressing away from my desk and the psychology test staring back at me. I would’ve fucked her that night, seeing her in the yellow dress. That’s what it would’ve been reduced to. Fucking. Like wild, debaseless animals. I’d almost slipped up, too. Almost given her too much. Confessing to watching her from time to time was completely different than admitting I’d been playing around with fate. That fucking yellow sweater would always be my undoing. I shouldn’t have taken it. Unreasonable attachment and all that bullshit. But she took my breath away every time she wore it. It made the pink blush of her cheeks look even more alive, her dark eyes just a shade richer and the way she tucked herself away inside it? Fuck. I’d never been jealous of an inanimate object before.

I turned, opening the large cabinet to the side of my desk, reaching past the books and false shelf until I grasped the edge of fabric. The yellow sweater slowly emerged from the back of my cabinet. I brought it to my face, breathing in deeply, inhaling the elixir that was Stella.

She was perfect. She let me kiss her. Let me tell her how perfect she was. But I kept waiting for reality to snap into place, and for her to realize I was the wrong choice in all of this. I thought she might last night, when she thought I truly thought of her as little more than a pawn in Clarissa’s and my game.

But once she realized everything I’d done to keep her safe, the lengths I’d gone to, the people I’d sacrificed, she’d try to run, and I wouldn’t let her. Then she’d spend the rest of eternity fearing me and it would just be me and this sweater. A delicate, sweet reminder of what was once within reach. A chance at the dreams I didn’t deserve, a future not meant for me. I tucked the sweater back into its hiding space. Obviously, work wasn’t happening today. I petted Luna, curled up beneath my desk.

I pulled a heavy black knitted sweater over my head, intending on finding Stella. She’d been so tired yesterday. I’d tucked her into bed with Archie and left her sleeping. There hadn’t been time to explain what I’d been trying to convince Clarissa of. I needed to tell her everything now, at least so she wasn’t worried. She was probably thinking my argument was weak, but she didn’t realize how much of a stickler for rules the Council was.

I’d wanted to curl up next to her. Why hadn’t I?

She was making me weak, and what was worse was that I didn’t mind.

I passed the kitchen, Agatha poking her head out, face lightly dusted in flour. ‘If you see Stella, can you tell her I have her lunch here? She didn’t come in at noon like normal.’

I frowned. I didn’t like the idea of Stella skipping meals. I could only take care of her if she’d let me. ‘Did she get caught up in something?’

Agatha shrugged. ‘Not sure. She didn’t say she was going to do anything specific, but she seemed pretty upset at breakfast now that I think of it.’ She narrowed her eyes at me. ‘What did you do?’

‘Nothing. Fuck! You’d think a man could get a little respect in his own home.’

Agatha glared harder.

‘I didn’t do anything except tell her the truth,’ I huffed. ‘Isn’t that what you wanted me to do?’

‘Just go check on her.’

I turned on my heel, headed for the garden. It was a brief respite in the daily rain we’d seemed to be having lately, but a storm was brewing. Hopefully, she’d just gotten caught up with things, but she’d gotten into shit before. The Nihil for one. If they knew what was good for them, they would’ve learned their lesson. The Void. The woods… or worse yet, what if she didn’t believe what I’d said last night, and left? It was hard to escape the Fringe, near impossible if you didn’t know how, and you might end up spliced or worse. My heart caught up as I slammed the front door open, the heavy wood taking a chunk out of the crumbling brick as they collided.

If she tried to leave and got herself hurt, I’d never forgive myself. I dragged my hands through my hair, storming down the stairs. ‘Stella?’ I called, my nerves lighting every one of my cells on fire. ‘Stella!’

No answer. Nothing. She’d run. Away from this, away from me. I couldn’t even blame her, but I couldn’t stop myself from worrying she was hurt. I raced around the back of the house, away from the garden. Everything here looked so much more alive since Stella had started working in the gardens. Sunflowers took root along the house. The smell of marigolds blew with the wind. The ivy was brought under control, the weeds carefully stamped into submission. Would it all go back to the way it was before if she left?

I’d find her again. I always would. But she wouldn’t come willingly with me next time, and that hurt.

‘Stella!’ My voice was more of a rasp at this point, stretched thin.

‘Damien?’ A dark head of messy hair popped up from behind a bush. Stella.

‘Stella,’ I breathed, closing the distance between us. ‘Were you trying to leave the Fringe?’

She cocked her head at me, frowning. I took her silence as confirmation of my worst fears.