“You don’t look fine.”

“I’m fine,” I growled, gagging on more than just the thought of her leaving but the thought of her still hating me. Worse than hating me—being such a mastermind and flawless actress that she could hide her true feelings and be gentle.

To give me the one thing I’d never had. The one thing I was fucking desperate for. The one thing I would happily die for.

Could she do that?

Could she be worse than all the guests combined? Could she carry off a performance of kindness and affection, coaxing me under her spell, all while driving the very same knife she’d thrown at me feet into my back?

Christ, I—

That would make her crueler than Storymaker, Levin, Willby...it would make her more diabolical than all of them put together because not one of them had been able to mask their true desires, their real natures.

But Gemma?

She could be my greatest enemy, all while she made me fall in love with her.

Ah, fuck.

She was right.

I was going to be sick.

I spun and stumbled for the wall. Slamming both hands on the glass, I sucked in a tainted breath, wincing against the pain in my broken arm. Air was tainted because she was there. Her scent. Her beauty. Her very fucking presence.

And then, her hand rubbed softly between my shoulder blades, and her voice lowered to a coo that I’d never, not once, been privileged to hear. “It’s okay. If you’re still upset about what you did...don’t. It’s in the past.” She paused before murmuring, “It’s two a.m., Kas. That was yesterday. Today is fresh. We can start anew.”

I groaned from the sheer pain of her comfort. Did she know her empathy was the worst weapon against me? Did she understand my bones crumbled to dust and my blood turned to mud and I couldn’t fucking think straight all because of her benevolence?

But it could be faked.

She could be playing you for a fool—

I snapped upright.

My nausea vanished.

So what?

So what if she did? So what if I stumbled right into her game?

At least, I could find some smidgen of happiness along the way. I could enjoy a few soft touches, a couple of calm moments from the shitstorm of my mind.

I suddenly didn’t care.

So what if it was all a sham? So what if this was her delivering the worst agony of my life? By the time she twisted the knife in so deep I finally figured out her intention, it would be too late.

It was already too late.

Turning slowly, I caught her wrist as her hand fell away from my back. Not looking up, I focused on her elegant fingers as I twined them with mine. I did something as innocent as hold her hand, yet it gave me a deeper satisfaction than driving hard inside her.

She gasped as I brought her knuckles to my lips and kissed the delicate skin covering them. She shivered as I grazed my mouth over each, worshiping, memorizing, angling her hand until her fingers went taut.

I slowly inserted her middle one into my mouth.

“Oh,” she breathed.

She surprised both of us by almost collapsing to her knees.

I lashed out with my broken arm, catching her before she tumbled. My teeth caught on her fingernail before sucking it back onto my tongue. I flinched against the throbbing in my injured arm.

She cried out as I clutched her close, trembling as her perfect body pressed against mine. But that wasn’t right. She wasn’t perfect. She was skinnier than when she’d first arrived.

Because of me.

Because I’d not given her the nutrition she needed—both physical and emotional. I’d failed her all while she’d been kind enough to forgive me.

If this was the woman who would eventually make me pay for all my sins, I would gladly bow at her feet. I would idolize her until the day she destroyed me.

Running my tongue around her finger, I dared to look into her eyes. I braced myself to see conniving manipulation, to witness the truth that she wasn’t overcome by my mouth but merely feigning desire.

But her eyes glossed with heat. They positively burned with need. Desire like that couldn’t be counterfeit...surely. Her little pants and pebbled nipples couldn’t be fabricated if she hated me as much as I feared.

I sucked harder, tasting her skin, cleaning her of all my wrongdoings. Her eyes snapped closed as she swayed into me. Her skin flushed with fire, burning me up, making me hard, causing whispers of lust to curl through my mind.

I could have her again.

I didn’t think she’d deny me this time.

It could be mutual.

It could be good.

It could be explosive and intoxicating and yet another arrow through my heart.

“Kas...” she moaned as I slowly licked my way to the tip of her finger and blew on the wetness left behind.

And I knew what I could give her to equal what she’d given me.

She’d given me a release.

She didn’t have the same affliction that I did. I could leave her be, and she could satisfy herself. But...I also had the skills in which to break her apart for a change. I’d been well trained. Well disciplined.

I could apologize in so many sexual ways.

But first, I needed her clean. I needed to cleanse her of the dirt I’d left on her and the cum I’d spilled inside. That orgasm had been full of shame and heavy guilt. I wanted her free of it. Just like I wanted to be free of everything that’d made me into the bastard who’d raped her.

Her eyes flickered open as I pressed a final kiss to the tip of her finger and let her hand drop to her side.

“Thank you,” I whispered. I didn’t deserve to touch her. I was beneath her in so many awful ways, but I didn’t have the power to stay away. If she gave me permission to apologize tonight, then I would do whatever she commanded.

She blinked, still hazy with want.

I found pride in that. Pride that I’d made her drunk just by sucking on her finger. Proud that, regardless of her threat that I was doomed the moment I entered her body, I’d somehow made her feel a tenth of the lust I suffered.

And also proud that she kept using my name, regardless of my orders for her not to. She’d ignored me. She’d been brave enough to ignore me. And in that, she fully deserved to use it.

“I know you aren’t looking for my permission—especially after what I did—but...I want you to know, I—” I cleared my throat, finding it harder than expected to say such simple things. But that was because they weren’t simple. This wasn’t just me allowing her to use my name. A slave name that labeled me as a belonging, a piece of trash, a toy to be used and discarded, but I was effectively giving myself over to her.

I was giving her the right to own me. To summon me. To use me however she liked.

“I’d be honored if you use my name, even if it isn’t my real one. After what you did for me tonight...” I coughed again, unable to get rid of the lump in my throat. “For you to welcome me inside you after I—”

“It’s okay. We don’t have to—”

“No, we do.” I slashed the air with my broken arm. “I don’t care what drove you to do it. I don’t care if you hate me, and it was a ruse to make me fall. I—”

“What?” she scowled. “A ruse? There was no ruse. What are you saying—”

“I’m saying you’re worth more to me than anything, and I—” I frowned. “If I’m honest, I hate that name, but I can’t remember any other. I hate what I am. I hate what I’ve done to you, not just tonight but all the other nights combined. I’ve tried to forget. I’ve tried to be better. I want to be better...for you.”

She inhaled sharply.

Clearing my throat and the sudden squeezing in my chest, I reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Come. There’s something I want to show you.”

She looked down at where my fingers circled her arm. Could she feel the slight zing between us? The constant flow of energy humming from her body into mine? Regardless of my limited knowledge of relationships outside of Fables, I’d never felt the steady crackle of electricity for anyone before. Not even my family.