Chapter 45

The Villain

F uck. Fuck. Fuck.

It was like a repeating jingle in his mind. This was his punishment for trying to be playful—it somehow caused a heavy tension in the room. After everything that had happened, he should have known better than to allow himself and Sage to be alone together in a room with a bed. He had to leave. But when he turned, he saw a sketch sitting on the desk: it was of a man with a high collar and large, dark eyes. It was poorly done, but even Trystan could tell who it was.

"You drew me?" He lifted a brow, a satisfied half smile curling his lips.

She sneered at him, and her face flushed his favorite color as she ripped it from his hands. "Yes, but I forgot to add the horns."

He grimaced. "Well played." Then he did a full sweep of the small…not-very-tidy space. Though it was incredibly difficult to see in just the moonlight. "It's a bit dark—is there a candle?"

She jumped, rushing for the drawer as she pulled the final pin out of her hair. "Yes, of course! I'm so sorry; that was so inconsiderate of me. Are you well?" She fumbled with a match and quickly lit several candles sitting on her windowsill and small side table.

He opened his mouth to ask her why she was apologizing, but then he realized. It had been dark, nearly pitch-black, and he hadn't even thought about it. Not once. When was the last time that happened? Ten years ago . What was different about him now?

"I'm fine," he said, even though he really wasn't. He pulled a gold handkerchief from his pocket and rubbed it down his face before tucking it back into place. "Where shall we look first?" He pulled open a drawer of the cabinet off in the corner.

"Don't!" she screeched.

But it was too late. He'd opened it and reached in, finding…something silky, with ivory lace. He panicked and chucked it out the open window.

She slammed the drawer shut with her hip, glaring at him. "My undergarments are not going to detonate."

"One can never be too careful." He ducked, chuckling, when she lobbed a pillow at him.

Fun—he was having fun with her. That's what this giddy, elated feeling within his chest was. He kind of hated it almost as much as he was enjoying it, because he knew it had to end eventually.

"Why didn't you want me to come here, really?" she asked. And it seemed the end had already arrived.

An honest answer was ill-advised. A curated, villainous one would keep her away and set them on the right course forward. "It was too risky." He opted for safety.

"What was?" Sage asked. "Me coming? Or simply admitting that you think me an encumbrance?"

Hold on a minute . "I don't know what scenarios you're playing out, Sage, but I can assure you I do not think you an encumbrance. I merely felt…cautious regarding your safety."

But she crossed her arms, looking like that wasn't even close to enough of an answer for her. Her dress was making it damn near impossible to focus; there was so much of her glowing skin exposed, and the black shimmer in the gown made her look like midnight. "You were never shy about me going on field missions before."

"You weren't a wanted woman before," he replied.

She scoffed, gesturing to the white lines of her face paint. "Clearly, that problem was easily remedied."

He didn't respond, running out of excuses that would divert her. What could he say? That he couldn't bear the thought of putting her in danger? That she was murder for his focus and his self-control? No, those were all thoughts that needed to remain tightly contained, but they were bubbling to the surface with every step she took toward him.

"I don't understand why you suddenly have so much concern for my well-being when nothing bad will happen."

But something bad had happened.

"Sage, drop it," he warned, feeling the last thread of his control pull taut.

"No, I won't drop it. My safety wasn't in question at all. There was no reason you should've pushed so hard for me to remain behind."

"I couldn't take the chance," he argued, pleading with whatever gods watching that she'd stop before it was too late.

"There was no chance. There was no danger! I was fine!"

And though he shut his eyes tightly to stave off the memory, as he'd been desperately trying to do since it happened, in this moment, he couldn't take it any longer. The confession spilled out before he could stop it.

"YOU WERE DEAD!" he roared, his chest moving up and down like he'd just done battle—and he had. With his mind and his foolish, foolish mouth. And he'd lost.

He opened his eyes to see Sage's face drop, astonishment pulling back her shoulders. "What? What are you talking about?"

"You were dead." He curled his lip. "I thought you were dead. I ran into a room at the Gleaming Palace, and I saw your corpse."

"But Gideon was supposed to— You said that he told you I wasn't. Why would you lie?"

He took a large step closer. This entire room smelled like her—it was attacking every one of his senses. "I did not wish to speak of it. It doesn't matter." He couldn't relive it.

She let out a sigh of frustration as she pulled a hand through her curls and shoved her desk chair out of her path to move in front of him. "This is the problem! In one breath, you imply I'd be a hindrance. In the next, you tell me I'm extraordinary! Hoisting me over your shoulder, acting like I matter to you, when you rejected me outright and then taunted me with it!"

"Rejected you?" He was going to blow a gasket. "I wasn't going to kiss you when the request was made under duress!"

She huffed cynically. "Duress? Please! Admit it—right when we get close to the crux of it, you always pull back! Are you trying to confuse me? Is this part of villainy, playing games? Pretending to care about me and then ripping out the rug with something cold?"

He went as still as a statue. "You think I pretend to care about you?"

Sage realized her error far too late. Her eyes widened as if she sensed the danger, and she took a step back.

He charged after her. "You think I do not care? As if thoughts of you and your well-being don't plague me daily. Nightly. Every second we are apart! I watched you die ! I thought I'd never see you again! I have never known such darkness, and I never wish to again. If you think that makes me overbearing, so be it. But do not ever claim I do not care about you. You are wiser than that, Evie. Do not be a fucking fool."

His harshness was meant to cow her, but it didn't work. She just stared, quiet and confused, like she was looking at a painting that remained out of focus.

Placing a hand to her chest, she blinked at him and said, "Plague? Are you comparing me to an illness?"

That final thread of control snapped.

"Damn it!" he growled.

He moved, and before Sage knew what was happening—

He kissed her.