Stolen Soulmate (Crowne Point 2)

I followed him like the ghost I was, up the winding staircase the led out of the servants’ quarters.

“I spend all day listening to how much your future wife loves you. How much of a good kisser you are. How much she can’t wait for her wedding night. I almost threw up.”

We wound and wound, me at his back—all that was missing was a fucking candle in my hand.

“You know what sucks the most? I can’t hate her. She’s too kind. Too beautiful. Too pure.”

I slumped against the wall, falling down to the stairs.

“Was I just a game to you too?”

I put my head in my hands. Things I didn’t want to acknowledge surfaced, riding a merry-go-round in my head. A bet. Bragging rights.

My hands were pried from my face, and I was staring into Grayson’s deep pools of blue. He held on to my hands, soft.

I missed the way he held me. I missed the way his kisses consumed me. I missed the secrets he whispered in the dark.

“I miss you,” I whispered, weak. “Your bruises have faded, Mr. Grayson.”

For a single, shining second, Grayson was back.

My Grayson.

I don’t know why he’s doing this. I don’t know why we’re apart, but I see the crushing weight on his shoulders. I pried my hand from his, pressing it to his cheek.

“My Atlas,” I whispered. “If your heart is stone, does it crack and weather?”

His eyes cracked, and I saw everything, every emotion I thought I’d dreamed up.

Then he dropped my hand, jaw hard, eyes harder. “I’ll never be able to give you anything else but this, Story.” He reached into his back pocket, pulling out a golden, heart-shaped locket.

“What’s inside?” I asked as he dropped it into my palm.

He grinned a crooked, cruel smile. “My heart.”

“You were supposed to die first,” I mumbled.

I guess, in a way, our love did.

I went to open it, and he put his hand over mine, stopping me.

“Don’t open it unless I’ve been an unredeemable jackass.”

“So wait a few minutes…”

Another grin, sliding a tongue across his sharp canines. From my angle on the floor, it made his jaw sharper.

“Yeah,” he said eventually, voice hoarse. “Wait a few minutes.”

Grayson stood as if he was going to leave. Leave without another word. Leave me with a token of our love as some kind of parting gift.

I quickly scrambled to follow.

“Why are you doing this?” I grabbed his arm. “I know you’re in there. I know it.”

Grayson covered my hand with his, and urgency became heartburn.

“Either allow me to love you or leave me to hate you!” I exclaimed, chucking the locket to the ground.