A Girl in Black and White (Alyria 2)

But I had to see her myself, just to remove the image of her lifeless body from my memory and replace it with something better: her long, wheaten hair down her back, in a white dress, reminding me of how innocent she always was as she stood in front of that butterfly enclosure. She was like seeing color for the very first time: her silky hair, the shape of her body, the delicate way she held a butterfly on the end of her finger.

I never doubted it was her; her mannerisms were too perfect. The way my heart beat heavily in my chest reminding me of my failure was an instinct I couldn’t ignore. And while the innocent, light scent I always associated with her wasn’t so innocent anymore, but instead more mature and slightly dark, I couldn’t deny to myself that it was anyone else.

After seeing her, I told myself I just needed to hear her voice. Just once and I could put her behind me.

But the idea that she was so close, of how easy it would be to seek her out, had been the only thought in my mind. I realized I couldn’t handle it when I saw her with some man at the parade. Yea, it was fucking selfish asking her to leave, but I had business here, and I wasn’t used to someone fucking up my plans.

And then she was taunting me in that tavern, and I’d realized I had zero self-control when it came to her. Fucking zero. Once I had my hands on her, I knew that I wouldn’t forget her when my humanity was gone—I would obsess over her. That thought alone sent unease curling in my stomach, a cold sweat down my back. It had changed my plans from finding a captain and crew unaffiliated to Titan to ship all of my possessions to northeastern land I’d purchased, to fucking Elian.

If she was here, and I was here, I’d find her. And I wasn’t going to let her death be on my hands again.

She was merely a drug. I only had to distance myself from it. Forget it exists, and I wouldn’t spend my days longing for it.

I heard a sigh from behind me. She was waking up. I closed my eyes, taking a breath. When I opened them, she was going to have to hate me. She came here, giving me her virginity for fuck’s sake. She didn’t hate me no matter how many items were on that list of hers. But she was going to in a moment because she needed to forget me. She needed to not drop her dress at my feet or look at me with that soft expression like she wanted something from me.

I opened my eyes, and fuck, I already regretted what I had to do.

I blinked slowly, waking, the sheets underneath me so much softer than the ones at home. Clarity washed into my mind, and the warmth of contentment filled my chest, a small smile on my lips. I just slept with a man. No, I just slept with Weston.

I stretched, my skin feeling so sensitive against the humid air after his rough hands had covered every inch. Feeling a twinge of soreness between my legs, a flush ran to my cheeks. It was a different experience than I imagined, I supposed. I wasn’t expecting it to be so personal. Why was the image of him above me, burned into my mind with this warm, heavy feeling in my chest?

I swallowed. His lips on mine, his body moving into mine . . . it was so much heavier than I thought it would be. I didn’t even want to think about him leaving tonight because the idea made me feel as if someone were sitting on my chest.

The bed was empty, save for me, and I sat up, my gaze sweeping the room until I saw a certain Titan looking out to the terrace, his hands gripping the doorframe above him.

I only watched him for a moment, still in awe of what I just did with him. I didn’t feel much different, but it was hard to fathom that I just slept with a man like that.

He had his head bowed as if he was in thought, and a deep sense of tenderness rushed through me. I got to my feet, padding across the carpeted rug until I reached his back. I put my hands on his sides, feeling him tense slightly. A sense of unease crept up my back, but I still wrapped my arms around his stomach.

He dropped his arms and grabbed my wrists, gently pulling them off of him. A tense atmosphere overtook the room.

“I had a good time, Calamity, but I think you should go.”

My heart stilled, an uneasy sweat rushing to the surface. His voice was cold, colder than I’d heard it since he’d been in the city. I took an uncertain step back, stupid words slipping from my mouth before I could stop them. “Why do I have a feeling that’s what you say to any random whore?”

“Act like a whore, I’ll treat you like a whore.”

I faltered, and it took me a moment to realize that he had, in fact, just said that. I stood there, feeling like I’d just received a heavy blow in the chest from his fist.

I loved to think that I was tough enough to handle everything, anything that was thrown at me. But after that . . . sleeping with him, and giving him something I couldn’t give to anyone else, a sense of vulnerability rushed over me. And I realized I was standing there naked, completely bared to him, while he just told me he used me like a whore and expected me to leave like one. I never understood how sensitive I could be until that moment.

I took an uneasy step back when he turned around. His gaze came down to me and then hardened even further when he noticed I wore nothing. “Fuck, Calamity. Do you have any sense of modesty?” He shook his head and walked away from me like I truly disgusted him.

My heart was beating so hard in my chest, it felt like it was stealing all my breath. I was so confused my head spun. This wasn’t the Weston I’d come to know the past few days. This was someone else, and for a moment, I thought this was him losing his humanity. I glanced over at him hesitantly; and, as if he read my thoughts, he shook his head, putting some things in a leather pack. “Not yet, Princess. I got what I wanted. I don’t need to play the charming prince.”

His eyes were clear. He was telling the truth.

I swallowed, my throat thick as rejection crawled up it.

He glanced back at me, his expression tight that I hadn’t moved. “Do you not understand a dismissal when you hear one? Go. And for fuck’s sake, put your dress on before you do. If you’re going to marry that blacksmith of yours, you need to at least pretend you haven’t been whoring around.”

I was stunned, shocked-still for many moments. But when I realized I thought I could’ve had feelings for this stupid, heartless son of a bitch, anger sizzled like a crackling fire in my veins. My dress hit my stomach, and as soon as it did, I threw it back at his face.

He tossed it on the floor by my feet. “If you want a man to marry you, don’t throw yourself at him. Have some respect for yourself. Take that lesson from this and don’t drop your dress for any man who doesn’t deserve it.”

“Stop throwing myself—” I choked on my own anger; it was so strong it vibrated under my skin. I’ll throw something at him. I picked up a vase from an end table.

He stopped packing, his hard gaze cutting up to me. “Don’t you dare—”