Books were everywhere. It was different than the penthouse where there they were all organized, contained in the library. Here, books were piled high in stacks. On the kitchen counter. Overflowing in the bathroom. You couldn’t walk anywhere without seeing a stack. Some might say it was cluttered, but to me it was heaven.

I’d woken up early enough that Anteros was asleep. I’d first gotten up to go to the bathroom, but got so lightheaded, I had to sit down. Luckily there was a pile of books next to me, so it wasn’t so bad. I sifted through them, searching for something interesting, as it looked like I was going to be there for a while. I was already pushing it before running around all hours of the night, and now with a bullet wound and nearly drowning…I shouldn’t have had sex with Anteros the night before.

I shouldn’t have had sex all those times.

“What are you doing?” I turned at Anteros’s voice. He was so quiet I hadn’t heard him get up. He stood next to the bed in silk sleep pants and nothing else. It reminded me of the penthouse. With his arms folded he seemed angry; his jaw ticked, the muscles in his biceps flexing furiously.

“Trying to find something to read.” I held up the book for emphasis. Most of them were in Italian. Some were in a few other languages, like French and Spanish, and I wanted to say Russian? I couldn’t tell. My American was showing.

“How many languages do you speak?” I asked, setting one down.

“Enough.” I furrowed my brow at the laconic response. He definitely wasn’t happy.

“Who pissed in your Cheerios?” I responded with a smile. My arm ached something fierce, but he was right in that it was just a flesh wound. I was lucky. If my body hadn’t already been broken, I would probably be up and walking.

“Get off the floor,” he ordered, and I smiled wanly. I would have loved to get off the floor, but the truth was, I couldn’t yet. I was exhausted. It was hard to breathe. If I tried to stand, my knees would buckle. My vision would black out.

And he would see it all.

“Yeah,” I said, trying to change the subject. “Once I find the right book.” I should have told him what was going on. I stared at the cold fireplace and knew I should tell the truth. It was stuck in my throat like barbed wire and it was making me bleed.

I was so afraid. Afraid he would love me less. Afraid he would leave me. Afraid I would be stuck in the darkness he’d unearthed within me, alone again, forever.

Fucking coward.

I hung my head just as he came up behind me, lowering himself to his knees, kissing my neck. It felt so good, and my body was responding, but I just couldn’t.

“I’m—” I’m too fucking tired to have sex. The further I push myself, the harder it is to crawl back. “I’m not in the mood,” I lied. He froze, hands on my shoulders.

“None of these books are in English,” he said, standing and taking the small stack away. “The ones you want are downstairs.” When he left I wanted to sob for him to come back and take care of me. Instead I stared into the dark, empty fireplace.

* * *

It was hours before I got up. Anteros never came back, but I heard him downstairs. All I had to do was call for him and I was sure he would come, but then he would ask questions. And I would have to answer them.

When I got downstairs, the stack of books he’d taken was next to him and he was reading one; it looked like the Russian book. He didn’t say anything when I came down, so I sat quietly on the rug in front of the fireplace. I had a bit more energy from sitting all day, but I was still tired. I watched him read.

“You’re staring,” he said.

“Are you mad at me?” I asked. He set the book down and slowly came over to me, sitting on his heels until we were almost eye to eye.

“I was wondering the same of you.”

“Not at all,” I said quickly. A silence engulfed us. He was so close, his heady scent invading my brain. I wanted to tell him how much I’d missed him, even for the few hours. Instead I said, “So…” and trailed off, rubbing my arm.

A slow, wry smile twisted his cheek and he pressed his palm into my chest, pushing me back into the soft fur rug. He pulled off the shirt I’d slept in and I wondered why I even bothered wearing clothes.

He traced pictures on my naked back for hours. It wasn’t demanding. It was just us, on the ground, by the fire. We had little conversations about nothing, and I wondered if that was what “normal” couples did. We talked about our favorite foods—his frittole, mine tomato soup.

He had to explain what frittole was, and it sounded like a beignet. He said it was something you get in Venice around a festival and I’d laughed. I’d always thought his favorite food would be something like steak, but it was basically a donut.

It was sweet—he was being sweet—but we couldn’t stay here forever. Reality was outside the walls. I’d run away from Lucia, he’d killed his top men. What did that mean for us? Were we out of mafia life, were we on the run? I voiced my concerns.

“There is no one left alive to tell the story of what happened,” he said. “We could go back, but the longer we stay, the more likely it is Lucia will gain footing.”

“Go back together?” The idea was terrifying, but at the same time, it called to something deep inside me. To be by Anteros’s side, ruling this dark underworld, felt right.

“Or we could leave,” Anteros said, continuing to draw on my back.

“The only place I’ve traveled to outside of New York and Jersey is Maine, but I was too young to remember. The first time I went on a plane was with you.”

“Mio cuore,” Anteros said with such sincerity that he captured my stare and stole my breath away, “I will show you the world.” I kept thinking I would get used to his eyes, but each time I tumbled and lost myself in his bluegreen gaze. It was alluring and intoxicating, like absinthe.

“Where would we go?” I asked, remembering to breathe.

“The places on your list.”

“I can’t believe you remember that,” I mused.

“I remember everything about you Frankie.” He stopped his ministrations and gave me another look that tore the air from my lungs before returning to drawing on my back. “We’d start wherever you want, not stopping until we’d seen everything. Then we’d go to the places you couldn’t dream of. We wouldn’t be finished until you’d seen it all, tasted it all, had it all,” he continued as his finger caressed a slow, leisurely line down my spine until it was at the dip of my back, just above my ass. “If you were never satisfied, we’d go until your feet were bloody and then I’d carry you until mine were.”

I smiled, dropping my head to stare at the little furs of the rug. I liked the sound of that. “What then?”

“I’d get someone to carry us.”

“That sounds just like a fairytale.” My voice faltered as his finger teased lower. It sounded like a fairytale, but not our fairytale. Once upon a time, I’d taped pictures on my wall. I would stare at the bright wrinkly colors, at all the famous monuments, wishing for an adventure, wishing for someone to rip the mask off. Then Anteros had kicked down my door.

I remembered the way he’d spoken to me when he’d climbed through my window at Lucia’s, the words that gave me shivers, words that ignited a need so deep I was sure it was rooted in my very soul.

Be my queen.

Suddenly Anteros’s finger was gone, his entire hand now on my ass, gripping, squeezing, dragging nails across the flesh. I sucked in my breath, vision going blurry. His other hand ghosted along my shoulders, resting at the base of my neck. He dug into my skin, pulling my head back until I was arched painfully and staring into his probing bluegreen eyes.

“Tell me what just went through your mind.”

“Nothing,” I gasped. The grip on my ass squeezed painfully and I yelped. At the same time, he thrust his tongue into my mouth. He kept me painfully arched, bending backward in an unnatural curve as he assaulted my mouth.

“You’re fucking lying,” he growled, jerking my head so his lips were against my ear. “You lied this morning, too. Why are you still lying?”

Because I’m still afraid.

I tried to breathe but the air got caught on my heartbeat. It was jumping too erratically and Anteros was watching me too intensely. He parted my ass, stroked me, so close to pushing inside.

On instinct, my legs parted. I should have been resting, but it felt too good. I wanted him to fill me in every way possible. The last time we’d done anything like this I’d been scared and ran from him.

“What aren’t you telling me?” he asked, pushing a finger inside my ass.

“I’d miss it!” I gasped.

“What would you miss?” he pressed. I couldn’t say it, even as his finger filled me. I couldn’t admit how I would miss the blood. The danger. All of it. The mask had slipped, but I wasn’t ready to look at the person beneath.

“Be a good girl,” he said as another finger joined the first, curling. “Fucking say it.” His fingers slowly pumped in and out of my ass and my head fell to the ground. I groaned, mouth filling with fur. I threw an arm over my back, searching for his cock. My hand met his soft yet iron-hard flesh and I pumped in rhythm with his thrusts.

“Answer me,” Anteros warned. He bit on my neck, so hard I swore he drew red.

“Aah!” I cried out. “The blood.”

“You’d miss the blood?” he asked, ruthless assault turning to soft caresses as he kissed the wound he’d just recently stitched. I nodded, turning on the fur so I could see his face.

“There’s blood in Tokyo, in Paris too. There’s blood everywhere.” He laughed, knowing and cocksure. It wasn’t just the blood. It was the world. The darkness. The inky black void I’d been sucked into. It was scary, but it was awakening too. Somehow I saw more in the darkness than I’d ever seen before. You never realize how numb you are until you started feeling. Now I was alive and I didn’t want to go back. I dreaded going back. The dark laugh vibrating along my flesh said Anteros knew that, and he wasn’t going to let me pretend otherwise.

He slid his fingers from inside me and I groaned at the emptiness. He stood and I opened my mouth to call after him but then just sank farther into the warm, comfy furs. What felt like seconds later, a warm, wet liquid was being rubbed into my ass and Anteros plunged deep, making scissor motions inside me. Just like that, I was awakened.

Fuck I need to stop. I’m going to crash and never get back up.

But Anteros felt so good. All I could do was moan and lift up what little I could up to meet his touch. He pulled away again and I groaned. Just a few seconds later he was at my back, silky wet cock pushing against my ass.

Oh God.

It was so tight, so painful. I couldn’t breathe. He was already so big inside my pussy, I couldn’t imagine fitting him in my ass. Even with the lube, it was too intense. My hands reached out, gripping the fur. My mouth opened in a silent scream. He gripped my hair, pulling my head back again so I could see into his eyes.

“Stay with me, mio cuore,” he said. “Relax.” I exhaled and just as the breath left my lips, he thrust into me, my breath transforming into a cry. He was in me, totally filling me up. I couldn’t think straight—it was too much.

But totally perfect.

“The darkness,” I breathed. “The power—that’s what I would miss.”

“Good girl.” He sucked my neck, speeding up the thrusts. I should have told him to stop. My body was screaming that I was too tired to do this, but I didn’t care. I would be his doll. A beautifully broken doll, willing to let him use the leftover pieces of me.

* * *

I groaned and rolled over, stretching my limbs. I was in a bed. I didn’t remember going to bed. The last thing I remembered was sex with Anteros on the floor downstairs. But damn, I felt refreshed.

“You slept for almost two days.”

I craned my neck at the voice. Anteros was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in entirely different clothes than before, refreshed and so tempting with his wavy black hair still kind of messy…but then, if I’d slept for two days, it made sense for him to be wearing something different. He studied me with concern and I wanted to tell him sleeping that long was normal for me, but the words got stuck in my throat like all the other words.

He caressed my head, and I turned into the surprisingly gentle touch. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Yes. “No.” His eyes narrowed at my response, but he didn’t anything. He stood up, and the bed lifted with the weight of him leaving. When he was at the door, he turned back.

“I bought you something while you were out,” he said and knocked lightly on the doorframe. “It’s in the bag.” Then he shut the door. Hanging on the back was a black dress bag. I sat up straight and stared at it for about two seconds before I ran over and ripped open the zipper.

It was gorgeous. It reminded me of my favorite dresses from the penthouse, first the one I’d worn to the dinner party and then the one at New Year’s. It was different, though. Where those dresses had transparently shown my naive hopefulness, this one was darker. Edgier.

I ran my finger along the silvery midnight blue fabric. Every single time I’d worn a dress like this, the fairytale had been torn away. I let out a sigh, bringing my hand back. That wasn’t going to happen again. Tonight the dress would stay on my body.

Gently I removed it from the hanger and walked it back to the bed. I wanted to put it on immediately but I had to shower. I’d been asleep for two days and I was gross. I quickly ran into the bathroom and rinsed off, not bothering to wash my hair as it wasn’t greasy and it would have ruined the curls.

While water ran down my skin, I couldn’t help but wonder why he’d bought the dress. Did he know what it meant to me? Back in the penthouse, any time a dress had been given to me it generally meant something was about to happen—most of the time, something not good. At Lucia’s, the same rule had applied.

I turned off the shower, getting out and dripping all over the floor. I glanced into the bedroom, getting a glimpse of the shimmery blue garment. I had no dread now, only excitement.

Quickly I dried off and walked back into the room. Just like the other dresses, no underwear was required—which was good, as I had none. Picking it up, I slid the material over my head, the softness surprising because it was so sparkly.

The dress was a deep sapphire blue that shimmered metallic silver. Three-dimensional blossoms crept up to my shoulder, forming a deep V on my chest. I lifted the skirt and put my chin to my shoulder, getting a good view of my back. It was almost entirely bare, the dress dipping to my ass as more flowers and leaves dotted my sides.

“The Pavoni colors have always been red and gold, but I think you are stunning in blue.” I dropped the dress, spinning around to see Anteros standing in the doorway. He had a small smile on his face, and I wondered how long he’d been watching me.

“I’ve thought that since the night you wore that infuriatingly tempting pale blue dress to dinner. Come.” He held out his hand for me. Lifting the skirt up with one hand, I walked to him and gripped his palm with the other. Wearing a black suit and silky black shirt, Anteros was unequivocally dangerous and sexy. He reminded me of the Beast I’d known in the beginning, except this time he wasn’t wearing a tie. His top buttons were undone, making him look untamed, vicious—deliriously sexy.

And this time he held his hand out to me.

I walked through the cabin with my hand tucked under his arm. There had been no shoes to go with the dress so I was barefoot, feet padding along the hardwood. At the end of the night my feet wouldn’t hurt from high heels, so actually, it was perfect.

I hadn’t explored the entire cabin yet, we’d been a little…busy. We walked down a hallway that opened up into a glass room that could have been an indoor garden, but there weren’t any plants, just more books and some seats.

It was still breathtaking.

Above us, the night was entirely clear, no cloud coverage or light pollution to mar the skies. So far out in the country, the sky was blanketed with so many stars it was like someone had spilled a tube of glitter. I turned to Anteros expectantly, and that’s when he lifted me and placed me on his feet. Suddenly it made sense why there were no shoes included.

“What do you plan on—” but my question was cut off when he began dancing. Music played all around us and I spun my head, trying to find the source. Anteros brought one finger to my chin and gently pulled my gaze back to his.

“Relax, mio cuore.” My belly clenched with a flurry of butterflies when our eyes locked. This was another version of Anteros I’d never seen, and somehow I knew no one else had either—a version only for me. Unguarded. Caring. He slowly slid his finger from my chin, as if hesitating and wanting to keep it there, then put his hand on my lower back.

I put my head on his shoulder and let him move me, let him dance without any effort on my part. It was magical. I’d almost forgotten what a wonderful dancer Anteros was.

He whirled wildly, lifting me off the ground, my legs sweeping in an arc. The sheer blue organza of my dress rose up around me as we twirled, swaying and glimmering like a waterfall.

He gently brought me back down to his feet. I was flushed and happy, endorphins pumping through my veins. I looked at Anteros with a crazy grin on my face, but he was stoic. I could see a tiny bit of melancholy peeking through. I reached for him, but he beat me to it.

Anteros touched the hollow between my collarbone. “The necklace was meant as a sign of love for the patriarch to give to his matriarch, only Lucio never gave it to his wife, he gave it to me.” His bright, achingly intense gaze captured mine. “No one would think to look with the bastard.”

I furrowed my brow. “But you gave it to me.”

“You took it off.”

“No,” I insisted. “No, never.” It all tumbled out of my mouth. What it had really been like living with Lucia. What she and Nikolai had done to me, how they had punished me and used Gabby and Levi. I’d told him Papa died, but not the horrible hows and whys, like how she’d killed Papa right after I’d seen Anteros and then ripped the necklace from my neck. I was empty when I was through.

“I don’t know why I haven’t told you everything yet,” I said. “I guess I was just trying to live the fairytale as long as I could.” My face was hot, tears pricking my lids. “I’m not even sad. I’m just mad that he died before he could be a good father. I knew that would never happen…but now it will really never happen.”

“Tell me about your mother,” Anteros said. “You liked her, right?”

“Why don’t you tell me something about you instead,” I hedged, looking away.

“There’s nothing more to know about me.”

“There’s everything to know about you,” I insisted.

“You don’t like to talk about your mother,” he stated, halting our movement. Talking about her just reminded me of what I’d lost. For years I’d clung to the memory of her love because it was all I had. Then Anteros happened.

“She died of a fistula,” I said. “Papa drunkenly told me one night because I was too young to remember and I begged him for years to tell me what happened. I had to Google it. A fistula is just an abnormal connection between two body parts and it’s usually not fatal, but apparently she died of complications.” Papa had said she fell down the stairs and I’d swallowed what he told me because I never thought to question it. After everything, I just wasn’t sure anymore.

It didn’t matter though, right? Papa was dead. Mama was dead. The only one who mattered was holding me. I sighed and hugged Anteros tighter. Before Anteros, Mama was the only one who saw me. Papa saw his demons. Everyone else saw a weirdo. Lucia saw a princess. But Mama…

“She was the one who named me Frankie. She said I had too much spunk and fire to be a Francesca,” I whispered against the fabric of his suit, resting my chin on the silky material and tilting to lock eyes.

Anteros smiled, a small secret quirk of his lips. “She was right.”

He began dancing again, holding me as the music played. I’d never realized how much it hurt to keep all of that inside. All these years it was like a knife, slowly burrowing deeper. I’d left it in because I’d been too scared to pull it out, but Anteros had helped me. He’d staunched the bleeding.

“You and Gabriella are very close,” Anteros mused sometime later, and at first I was taken aback by the statement. It seemed to come out of the blue. We’d been dancing in silence, so I had no idea why he’d said that.

“We were…” I figured it was time to tell Anteros everything. “Gabby met Levi when she was arrested. He helped cover up the murder because he loves her, but also, I think, because his mother was taken by The Institute. He’s very determined to find her.” I looked away, trying not to think about how badly I’d betrayed Gabby. Anteros touched the back of my neck, so gently it was like feathers.

“You can still get out, Frankie.” His words sounded like grinding rocks. “I can get you out—I will get you out.” Was that what was on his mind? Didn’t he understand by now?

I stopped dancing and got off his feet, gripping him by the forearms and forcing him to look at me. It probably looked ridiculous, him being so much taller than me, but I had to make him see how serious I was.

“Anteros, I don’t want to travel the world. I don’t want to leave this world, period.” I reached up and touched his face, felt the smoothness of his tan cheek contrasted with the beard that had grown along his hard jaw. “I want to stay here with you. I want to…” I took all the breath I could to gather my courage. “I want to be by your side and do this. Let’s take them down—Nikolai, Lucia. Let’s take what’s ours. Let’s rule together.”

He gripped my face between his palms, pulled me to him so I had to stand on my tiptoes, and kissed me. It was a kiss that stole my breath, stole my life, but it gave me something new, something better.

* * *

Afterward we walked back to the main room where we’d spent most of our time since arriving. I couldn’t help make comparisons to a fairytale. Anteros told me time and time again that it wasn’t a fairytale, but I was in this gorgeous dress, and the night was so magical, and he was…he was everything.

For once it was perfect.

The stars actually aligned.

Anteros went to get some water and food since I hadn’t eaten anything in almost two days. I sat on the white fur rug, the organza of my dress spread around me in a shimmery cascade. I smiled, content, happy to have my fairytale stay stitched in place. I rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling, at the beautiful maple logs, vaulted and lofted. I was safe in this safe house Anteros had brought me to because he loved me.

With a deep exhale, I acknowledged that I had to tell him about my sickness.

I had to.

There weren’t any secrets between us anymore. If we were going to rule this underworld together, I had to let him know the truth. When he got back, I was going to tell him what was going on with me—the real reason I’d slept for two days. I worked the inside of my cheek, counting the knots and striations in the different logs in the ceiling, before rolling to my side and looking to where Anteros had gone.

Something caught my eye—a corner of paper stuck in one the floorboards, so small you could barely see it. Intrigued, I elbow-crawled over to it. I thought it might be a loose page belonging to one of his old books, but when I pulled it out, I recognized it instantly.

It wasn’t.

It couldn’t be.

After everything, it couldn’t be. My body revolted at the revelation. Nausea rolled my stomach, trembles wracked my body. He’d said he lost it, said he didn’t remember what it said, but here it was, in my hands.

The letter.

How could he? I bit the skin of my lip to stop the onslaught of emotion. I thought we were past this. I thought lies were over. A few days before I would have crushed it. I wouldn’t have said a word.

But not today.

* * *

Anteros came down the hallway, a glass of water in his hand and a plate of something that smelled delicious in the other. I eyed it, hating him even more, hating that he brought me wine and pasta and looked like sex, but had kept the letter without telling me.

“What is this?” I asked, afraid because I already knew the answer. A small smile curved his lips, but it fell when he saw what was in my hand. My gut twisted further. I’d had a small bit of hope—hope that he didn’t know what it was, that it had, I didn’t know, somehow gotten here on its own. Like it had sprouted legs and fucking walked.

But seeing his face, I knew. Slowly, I got up, holding on to the couch for support. Anteros set down the items on the mantel and came to me. His face was a mask, betraying nothing.

Rip it off. Stop fucking pretending.

I scoffed. Hypocrite.

“Read it. Right now,” I demanded. With careful steps, he closed the distance between us, face betraying nothing. But in his silence and in his mask, I had my answer. “You already have, haven’t you?” Pained wrinkles spread from the corners of his eyes and I had to turn away.

“Where did you find it?” he asked, tone unreadable.

“Where did I find it?” I spun back around. “Are you fucking kidding me? It was in the floor!” I pointed to the spot and he followed my finger. Something passed across his features, almost like irritation, but it wasn’t directed at me and it quickly vanished again to be replaced by that infuriating mask.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I thought…” I thought we were telling each other everything. I thought we were each other’s everything. I thought we were past this. I thought the lies were over. I thought we were going to fucking rule together.

God, I was such a fucking idiot.

He was a Beast.

Beasts didn’t change.

My, what pretty teeth you have—all the better to lie with.

“What was so bad that you had to lie?” I asked, hating the tremble in my voice. He tried to draw me into an embrace but I pushed him away. “What else are you keeping from me? Because I told you every ugly truth—stuff I’ve never told anyone. You know every goddamn thing.” Except that you’re getting sick again, a little voice whispered in my head. You didn’t tell him that.

“The letter is about you,” Anteros said. I didn’t understand his demeanor at all. He was scary calm, watching me like I was a vase about to tumble from a pedestal, and that just pissed me off more. If the letter was about me, I wanted to know. I would have been happy if he’d told me about it.

“How could it be about me?” I looked at the weathered paper like I could suddenly read Italian.

“It’s about your parents.” Still he spoke with that inscrutable pacific tone. My frown grew so deep I could practically feel the lines pressing into my skull. Finally I had something concrete about where I came from and who I was—why had he kept it from me?

“Maybe you should sit down.” Anteros gestured to the couch behind me.

“Maybe you should just spit it the fuck out,” I spat, frustration and betrayal boiling over.

“You’re getting very bold with how you speak to me,” Anteros growled. His voice was low and his eyes dark—signs he was losing patience. I didn’t give a shit about his patience anymore.

“You know what, fuck you. I’ll use the internet. I don’t need you.” The words were runny and almost illegible and I probably couldn’t decipher them, but fuck him. I’d seen a computer in the bedroom—I’d use that. As I walked by him, he reached out and grabbed my elbow. I tried to shake him off, but he pulled me into an embrace.

My fists connected with his chest, my knees with his thigh. Nothing swayed him. He held me, his face unmoving from that goddamn stoic, almost grieved countenance. Finally I stopped fighting, face sinking into his chest.

I was in a vise grip, surrounded by his arms. I had no choice but to breathe in his unique spicy, masculine musk, no choice but to hear his rapid heartbeat, feel his steady breath go up and down. My body told me to relax because this was my other half. My mind screamed traitor.

“Why are you doing this?” I yelled, voice muffled by his chest.

“Lucio Pavoni is your father,” he said. I stopped struggling and he let me go as I absorbed the information. So the head of the Family was my father? I was a bastard or something? But he had been the Boss, so couldn’t he have had me around anyway? I didn’t understand. How could Lucia be my grandmother? The grooves in my forehead were eroding through the skin.

“And Lucia Pavoni is your mother.”

I dropped the letter and it floated to the ground, slowly dancing on air currents.

Mother.

Lucia Pavoni and Lucio Pavoni, as in brother and sister? I felt sick. The room spun. I stumbled back, almost tripping into the mantle. Anteros caught me.

Just as he did, my hand collided with the wine glass. I felt more than saw it. The cool splash of wine against my chest right before the glass fell and shattered. The liquid seeping through the fabric, drenching my skin. My dress stained and corrupted—fairytale ruined, once again.

And I was the one who’d caused the glass to fall.

“That’s not true,” I said, voice barely whisper. I couldn’t look at him, tried to focus on anything else, but it all reminded me of him. The beautiful white fur rug we’d made love on. The hallway he’d carried me down when we’d first arrived.

I closed my eyes.

“I didn’t understand at first either. Lucio and Lucia hid it masterfully. They concocted the Pavoni Princess myth so if a child was found, instead of looking into their affair, others would look for parents that didn’t exist.”

I opened my eyes, and it was a total mistake. Anteros was still impeccably dressed and the firelight behind him was a traitor. Shadows caressed the valleys of his muscles, light licked the peaks. Everything was hard, from his thigh to his bicep, like a statue come to life. His face—that infuriatingly beautiful face—looked at me with pity. I hated how I’d thought I could trust him to see me differently than the others, but there it was on his face: a shining reminder that I was alone. My heart was shattering inside my ribcage and it took everything I had not to clutch my chest like some dame in an old movie.

I would be strong, or at least I would make him believe he hadn’t broken me.

“You…” I took a breath. “How long have you known?”

“Since right before the river.”

Anger. Fury. Bright red in my eyes. Enough to blind me from the crippling pain that lashed through me. He’d known my most deepest pain, the thing that had haunted me through my life, the thing I’d desperately wanted to know, and hadn’t told me.

The man I thought wanted to protect my soul.

The man I thought knew my soul.

He’d kept the shard that pierced me to himself.

I held on to my anger so I didn’t crumble to pieces.

“I hate you,” I whispered. Anteros and I weren’t soul mates. We weren’t meant to be together. We had become a fistula. We were simply an abnormal connection between two people.