Page 93 of Hellbound

“I’ve already taken the liberty of notifying your parents of your death,” he replied dispassionately.

Marian’s eyes widened. Tori’s jaw nearly hit the table.

“You what?” The traveler cried.

“You may make a miraculous recovery and contact them when the Argent are gone.” Vale strode toward the table. “Don’t look at me like that; if you’re dead, Verinne has no reason to hunt them or you.”

Tori gaped at him. The monster then set his sights on the untouched plate of food sitting in front of Marian. Discomfort more than ceremony had her pushing her chair away so she could stand and face him.

“Va … Vae’h—” She stumbled over the name that had come so easily before. Uncannily easy.

“Vale will do,” he ordered.

“Vale,” she corrected, spitting the name like a curse. “You’re wrong. I don’t kill.”

He cocked his head. The shadowed crown floating over him flickered. “Roman did not spontaneously combust, Meyer.”

Marian stared back at him aghast as she struggled to find the right words, to voice the ugly feelings that had taunted her all these years.

You’re a murderer.

But the creature—the god—staring back at her, his inhuman eyes burning with intent she couldn’t scry, was more a stranger now than ever before. She was the first to break eye contact, unwilling to endure the unpleasantness any longer.

She had a weapon she didn’t understand, one that Vale had hardly explained at all. She’d only used it to save herself and Tori. She had no love for the Argent; they’d always been back-stabbing, conniving things.

And you took their money.

But Marian didn’t want to kill them.

That wasn’t her choice to make. That wasn’t anyone’s choice to make.

“Tori, Paul will show you to your room,” Vale said. “We’ll reconvene in my office in twenty minutes.”

Paul grumbled something that Marian completely missed. Tori was the first to rise, the sound of her chair scraping the floor like nails on a chalkboard.

“I want to shower in a bathroom with a door that locks where I can scream uninterrupted for a minimum of twenty minutes,” the traveler declared to Paul.

Paul sighed and stood up. “I’ll get you some towels. Maybe you can convince that goober over there to hose herself off, too.” He jerked his head in Marian’s direction.

Tori cast Marian one last mournful look as Paul escorted her out of the kitchen. Marian practically jumped up to follow like a lost puppy. Better their company than another moment alone with Vale, who loomed beside the island, watching them.

She hadn’t forgiven Tori or Paul for anything that had happened over the last twenty-four hours, but they were the lesser evils.

She was about to cross the threshold to the hallway when Vale materialized in her path in a plume of shadow.

“Staging a hunger strike?” He said in a voice as dark and smooth as the tendrils of shadow undulating around him.

Marian’s jaw clenched as she stared straight ahead. Her chest rose and fell with each shallow breath. Their silent battles didn’t use to bother her, but that was back when she could pretend that he was simply a fussy businessman with too much money.

So much had changed too quickly.

“You need to eat.”

His command was so unexpectedly gentle. She wanted to kick and scream and tell him to shove the green beans up his lying, shadowy ass. But the words wouldn’t come. She glared at him as she ducked under the arm blocking her path and slunk after Tori and Paul.

He let her go, a black spot in her periphery as she fled up the stairs into the sprawling house.

Vale’s office appeared to have been transported directly from the turn of the century library. Floor to ceiling shelves covered nearly every inch of wall, each one stuffed with books. The scant bit of striped wallpaper peeking through the gaps was the same color as the ocean on a rainy day.