Page 9 of Henrikk’s Secret

“To love,” Asher repeated, his eyes carrying too much pain and wisdom for Henrikk to enjoy them fully.

Henrikk’s throat tightened as fresh tears pricked his eyes. No longer able to meet Asher’s gaze, he lifted the goblet shakily to his lips. Before he could change his mind, he threw it back, drinking the contents in thirsty gulps.

The wine burnt his throat like a whisky, the flavour rolling over his tongue with unfamiliar flavours. It unsettled his insides on the way down, pooling strangely in his stomach. He was already feeling lightheaded.

Maybe it was all in his head. The poison was meant to be undetectable—colourless, odourless, flavourless—but he could feel its presence.

He set the empty goblet down with a clack and patted his lips with a napkin.

Asher had already drained his goblet and was staring at Henrikk.

Waiting for me to die.

Maybe Asher expected him to clutch his throat, frothing at the mouth as gurgled screams tore free to breach the castle walls.

“It will be quick, and painless,” Henrikk volunteered, pretending to be calmer than he felt.

Asher drew a relieved breath. “Good.” He licked his lips, frowning down at the empty goblet he twirled in his hands. “How long until it takes effect?”

“Not long,” Henrikk said. “Did you use the entire vial?”

Asher nodded.

“Not long at all, then.”

Changing his mind, Henrikk sat down. He would die on the same level as Asher, and he would not be a coward. He would look Asher in the eye as his final breath left him; a handsome vision, even after Henrikk had defiled him.

I’m sorry for that.

Henrikk’s stomach churned—the poison was slowly taking effect.

“I’m sorry,” Asher said.

Henrikk was stunned by the apology, but he quickly recovered and made a sympathetic pout. “My goodness, don’t embarrass yourself with an apology now. Besides,” he added, “you needn’t feel bad. I deserve this.”

Asher peered at him with that same steady gaze that Henrikk had fallen in love with. “No one deserves this.”

And that same earnest stubbornness.

Gods, I love him.

Not that Henrikk was religious. There was only one being he served, and it had the power to burn everything he loved into nothing.

Including Asher.

“Will you truly not say it?” Asher asked, a note of pleading in his voice. “Please.”

That I love you? Oh, Asher…

You must forget me.

“Tell me you don’t love me,” Asher pressed, his deep voice carrying a desperate edge. “I’d rather know… before…”

I cannot.

Suddenly, Henrikk was urging the poison to quicken, to take him before Asher undid all his cruelty, all his denials.

Because if Henrikk admitted his love, everything he’d done would be too unbearable to comprehend. Including the abhorrent ass fucking he’d inflicted on Asher…