Page 7 of Ruin & Desire
Thick as velvet, silence unfurls throughmy bedchamber, but this time it feels different—less cruel, more intent—as if the castle itselfhaspausedto hear my vow. Every servant, every noble…every watchful witness is somewhere close, their presence heavy in the air. For the first time, Ifeelanancient hush shift around me,not with anger but witha hungrycuriosity, awaiting my next breath.
Lucien
She denies me!
Not with screams or tears.Thatwould have pleasedme. Not with silence.Thatwould have fed my hunger for despair. But with defiance. A single blade of truth thrown into my chest.
“They already know.”
Herwords coil through me long after thespiritsfade. Mywinegoblet sits untouched, wine black as sin, her heat still lingering on the rim where her handnearly brushedmine. My claws dig deep into the wood ofmybedpost, carving scars thatresemblesmoke in the candlelight.
The castle waits for my rage. It wants me to roar, to punish…to drag her trembling intotheshadowsuntil her fire gutters out. The roses hiss at the windowsand rattletheir thorns, begging me to bleed her.
But I do nothing.
I sit in silence,rememberingthe imprint of her gazeand how it burnedinto me.It unsettles me more than hatred ever could. Forhatredis clean.Itis my breath. It is my existence.
Defiance… The mere thought of it stirs something in me I no longer understand.
My chest aches around the thorns rooted there, as if her voice forced them to shift. And the curse hates it.I hate it.I feel the castle tremble, restless, displeased,andeager for her to break.
Ibare my teeth inthe silence. I will not admit it,not to the roses, not to the spirits.and especiallynot even to myself.
But for the first time in years, I am not satisfied.
I am starving.
The shadows stirand my hands tremble.
This was not part of the plan.
Chapter six
Consuming Dreams
Annabel
Sleep refuses to come, scraping raw against my nerves. I twist beneath heavy blankets that offer no warmth as my mind prowls restlessly through the shadows. When exhaustion finally forces my eyes closed, the castle does not grant peace. Instead, it drags me into its depths, eager and merciless, seizing my dreams as if they are its rightful prey.What does it want to show me?
Suddenly I am back in the great hall,which isvast, echoing,andstripped to its bones. No velvet gowns or jeweled laughter…not a single silver tray. The marble table stretches before me, a slick black mirror that reflects nothing but the emptiness around it. Candles line the tabletop, their flames cuttingcrimson, bleeding thick rivulets of wax that slide down the sides and pool on thetablein silent, accusing puddles. Smoke curls upward, twisting into thorns that encircle me, pressing close, tightening. I swear I can feel themprickmy skin.
I stand at the head of the table,mypulsewildandmy breath barely a whisper. Across the marble, he waits, Lucien,theBeast. He does not sit. He does not retreat to the throne but stands tall, motionless, watching me with a gaze that cuts through the gloom. The faint candlelight glances off his features, casting shifting patterns on the walls. His faceemergesand fades, sharpened by shadowand doubt. His faceI almostrecognize yetbelongs to someone Ican’tname. I strain to see him,butthe harder I try, the more his features slide away frommymemory’sgrasp, leaving only the uneasy feeling that he is both stranger and something achingly familiar.
A sudden heat blooms on my wrist, andthe mark glows fierce and golden. I stare as chains unravel from the burning symbol, metallic serpents that slither across the marbleandcoil around him. The chains bind us, their links pulsing in rhythm with my heart. Each beat draws them tighter, until I feel the tension in my veins.
He speaks then, and his voice pours through the hall, deeper than thunderandcolder than ice.“Do you fear me now?”
The words shudder my bonesandecho through the emptiness, threatening to shatter me from within.
I try to answer, to shape my terror into sound, but my mouth will not obey. I open my lips, but silence spills out, thick and suffocating. The air is heavy with everything Ican’tsay.
He moves closer to me. With eachstep, the chains drag him nearer, or perhaps he pulls them;Ican’ttell. Shadows billow outand encirclemy body, pressing against my skin like velvet and smoke. My chest tightensuntilIcan’tbreathe.
He lifts his hand, his skin gleaming in the candlelight. I brace myself for pain, every muscle locked and waiting. But instead, he touches mewiththe tenderest tracingofthe line of my jaw.It’sso gentle,my heart stammersandskips, thenraces. The sensation lingers, icy and electric. I tremble,unableto move,unableto speak.
My lips part, not with words, only with breath. Each inhale is a rebellion, each exhale a plea.
The candles hiss, their flames bending inward as if craning to watch. The hall grows even darker, filled with silent witnesses.
