I hated that too.
His head tilted slightly. “You really like playing the part of my wife, don’t you? You like playing with fire.”
“You made me that way,” I whispered back. “And now you want to be surprised when I burn?”
His lips curled. Not quite a smile. Something deeper and darker. Like pride or even amusement. Maybe he liked it, red on me.
“You only burn when I let you.” He turned to the dining table. “As much as I like to entertain you, I don’t want you to faint. Come, let’s eat.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The Skin Lies
The dining room was drenched in golden sun and soft, salty breeze. The windows were open and the curtains danced along with the wind’s rhythm, unlike my heart, which threatened to leap out of my chest and fall on the silver platter on the table. Elena had dished it out of the cart, followed by a cup of black coffee for him and a crème latte for me.
I’d rate this scenario ten out of ten if the man sitting before me were not as cruel. Even the sunlight couldn’t penetrate his darkness. Sitting there like a king with no court. A porcelain plate before him. Cloth napkin on his lap. I’d never seen Zagreus Vitale eat with me, though he was always there, but our every encounter at this table ended with either me bending over and his hand on my ass, or with me crying and him taking his anger out on me.
This time… it was different. He was not angry, but he seemed bothered. Maybe it had something to do with what Jeremy said about the syndicate. I still didn’t understand where I fit in all this. I hardly saw him leave this property. Was I the reason? To keep an eye on me?
He rendered me helpless in a way that my every route ended at him. Though I still hadn’t formed a plan yet, if I played my pawns right, I might convince him to take me to the party he was talking about.
Yes, I heard that too.
And I also thought that if I left this house, I might be given an opportunity. God wouldn’t be so unfair to me, right?
But for that opportunity to arise, I needed to reach that chance first. So, I sat just opposite him, not beside but far away enough to feel like I still had a choice. Close enough for that to be a lie.
Zagreus didn’t complain. He cut his food quietly. Just the slow scrape of silver against porcelain. He ate elegantly. And I watched as he brought a grape to his plate. And peeled it.
Slowly, he slid a thumbnail beneath the skin, curling it away like he was undressing it, and last night’s flashbacks hit me where my body was still sore. The more he exposed the soft, trembling heart, the tighter I clenched my thighs. I swallowed hard, disgusted at myself.
What was I even thinking? He literally forced me, humiliated me, disrespected the dead, and… made me like it.
I focused on my plate, meticulously cutting the tarts as I watched him place the peeled grapes beside another. And then another. I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to ask, but I did.
“Why do you do that?” I asked, hoping my voice was audible over the sound of my own heartbeat.
He didn’t glance at me, just kept peeling.
“The skin lies,” he muttered as smoothly as the linen beneath our plates. “The sweetness is inside.”
I blinked.
He looked up, and those grey eyes met mine with an intimacy that felt like jolted electricity.
I didn’t want to know what he meant. So I diverted the topic.
“When will you tell me about my mother?” I asked.
The silence that followed wasn’t quiet, but loud in a deafening way. It screamed behind my rib cage and tasted like iron.
He didn’t react like he did last time, didn’t even freaking pause, just picked a peeled grape and leaned forward, and held it out between two fingers.
“Eat.”
I didn’t move; my mouth stayed closed even as my body trembled with hunger that wasn’t about food. I hated him for feeding me, I hated the part that obeyed, because I needed him to trust me. I learned my lesson. Meeting violence with violence wouldn’t do me any good.
I leaned and watched as his eyes dropped to my chest for a minute or two before meeting mine again with a dark glint. I didn’t bother being modest. He made me wear these weird dresses, and even if I hid, he’d make me eat naked if he felt like it, so I didn’t bother and opened my lips.
