Volatile Love (The Gilded Sovereign 2)

His fingers tighten, stealing the breath from my lungs. He’s shrouded in shadows as they dance across his evil, yet handsome face, and I wonder just how someone could fall so deep into the depths of depravity.

“This place is not for pretty little girls who want to be heroes.” There’s a warning in his voice, and I move my head slightly in a nod to hopefully appease him. He releases me then, allowing me to pull in deep breaths, before he gestures once more with his hand for me to enter the bedroom.

The door shuts behind me, and I take in my surroundings. It’s beautiful, the large double bed is ornate with four posts that are carved in beautiful patterns. A dark carpet adorns the floor with a soft feel to my now bare feet as I slip off the sandals I’m wearing.

There’s floor-to-ceiling cupboards that have mirrors in the doors, which reflect the opposite curtains that have been drawn shut. I’m sure the view is of the vast gardens behind the house, but I don’t linger.

Setting my small rucksack on the mattress, I open it and pull out the blue skirt. I slip off my sweatpants, stepping out of them, before I tug the skirt up my thighs and fasten the small button at my waist. The hemline hits me mid-thigh, and the silky material is flowy around my legs.

Settling myself on the seat at the vanity, I stare at my reflection, taking in my hair that’s been braided for almost five years now. I love each and every one of my beaded plaits, and as I twist them and pin them into a bun at the back of my head, I wonder if I could ever cut them off. Perhaps becoming someone new would change who I am right now.

A tear trickles down my cheek as I stare at myself. A girl no longer innocent, no longer unaware of the danger her father has led her into. I wish I was free from under his thumb. I want so much to run, but I know he’ll find me.

I can’t let him hurt anyone else in my life, least of all Etienne. Something about that man has changed something inside me. My chest aches for him; I want to hear his voice once more, to look into those endless deep pools of affection and tell him I want him.

For a long time, I believed that pushing everyone away would keep them safe. Even now, I know it’s true. But my heart wants one more glimpse of the boy, the man, who’s captured my attention more so than anyone before.

All through school, I never once had a boyfriend who I truly cared for. Each one of them was merely a distraction, someone to take me away from home where there was always an innate fear that danger would come knocking.

I hated my father all my life, and being away from him was my only reprieve, so I would go out, I would party and get drunk, even before I should’ve been. At nineteen, I have nothing but a hope that this will finally offer me freedom.

Tears brim my lashes as I slip my left foot into my pointe shoe. Gently, I twine the ribbon, and I feel the ache in my chest as the heartbreak attacks me with a vengeance. Blinking away the emotion, I pull on the other shoe and twist the ribbon.

Once my pointes are on, I rise from the seat and turn to find the doorknob twisting, and soon enough, it swings open, and I’m met with the stranger who didn’t want to give me his name. He looks me over once, twice, then grins.

“Rather fetching,” he tells me as he steps aside, and I exit the darkened bedroom. The hallway is lit with yellow lamps that offer shadows amongst the glow as the man follows behind me. He steers me left, right, then straight ahead, and before we reach the staircase that leads down into a dimly lit entrance way, I can hear the music filtering up to where we’re standing.

“How many are there?”

When he stops beside me, his dark eyes land on me before he lifts his chin toward the door. “Far too many to count. And tonight, all eyes will be on you.” The man reaches for the doorknob, but my hand shoots out to grasp his arm.

“What’s your name?”

“Thanatos, but everyone calls me Thane,” he grins.

“What does it mean?” I don’t know why I need to know all this before I walk in there, but I do. There’s a hint of humor in his expression, and I wonder just what could be so funny.

“Death,” he tells me. That one word sends a cold shiver over me. “I trust that will be the end of your questioning… that is until your mother arrives.”