Page 56 of Promise of Punishment

I’ve never given much thought to morality. Mine turned black the night I beat Lord Hamilton to death. Or perhaps it had always been black, and the Lord’s murder was simply my introduction to that truth. But doing this with Fable feels wrong and reckless. Two things I’ve never struggled with.

The men I’ve punished deserved far more than the ease of death. There was no goodness in them. Killing them was planned. Measured and justified.

I can’t afford to lose control. It’s why I fight in a ring where the referee can step in and prevent merciless acts of death. I’ve worked incessantly to never repeat the frenzied way I acted the night I found my sister in that study.

“I can’t wait to do that again,” Fable says, drawing me from my dark thoughts.

She liked how I fucked her with reckless abandonment? “Did I hurt you?” This should have occurred to me while I was relentlessly plowing into her.

She rests her small hands on my shoulders. “No. I liked what you did. I loved it, actually.” She lets out a small laugh of embarrassment and lowers her chin. “But I wouldn’t mind being tied up the next time,” she adds in a whisper.

All I can picture is her tied up with red sashes and blindfolded in my bed—not a guest bed. Mine.

This could lead to my identity should she stumble upon my wallet or passport. Something she deserves. No. She’s at Hellfire, aware of how sex is exchanged. Consent. Anonymity.

“Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?” she asks in that tender voice. The one that soothed me in my near-dying state.

“You did nothing wrong.” I lower her onto her feet. “You were lovely.” Unable to stop myself, I fix her crooked mask and bend, kissing her red, swollen lips.

She falls against the wall with a sigh—her sweet surrender, setting my veins ablaze with guilt.

“Wait here. I’ll send someone to help you.” I leave and don’t come back.

22

WHAT ARE YOU AFRAID OF, LITTLE ANGEL?

Fable, August

Noah hands me Bear’s inhaler after insisting on giving it to him. “See? He likes when I do it.”

“He’s just good at taking his medicine.” I pet his little head. “He’s good at everything.”

“Especially sleeping.” Noah laughs as he curls onto the pet bed between us. I ordered it for him online and keep it on the couch in the common room so his fur doesn’t get everywhere. It’s easier to clean than stripping the covers from the cushions and washing them.

Once I have the inhaler in the bag where I store it, I set it on the coffee table and recline into the couch.

Season two of Bridgerton plays in the background. Surprisingly, I’ve already seen the first season. Noah and Ashlyn have seen them all and are rewatching them with me, but Ashlyn left to take a call in private.

My phone chimes with a text.

Camila: The serpent Lord will be arriving tonight and wants to see you at nine. He’ll be in touch with where to meet later.

I gasp.

“What?” Noah’s head pops up from the back cushion.

“He’s coming back tonight, and he wants to see me.”

She blinks several times, then shrugs. “Maybe he missed you.”

I glower. “I doubt he’s out pining over me when he’s away.”

She sighs and sits back, petting Bear. “He is different with you.”

“Camila liked how he ignored me for two weeks. She’s been gloating.”

“You think?” Her features scrunch like she doesn’t agree.