No, he was talking about Bash, my Mage mate.
My mate who currently had his hand clasped with Cassie's as he led her out of the ballroom.
SEVENTEEN
Z
The floor opened up and swallowed me.
I had once been pushed out a window by an enraged Shifter. This feeling was somewhat similar. My stomach was bottomless, perverse fear sinking its claws into my heart and refusing to release its grip.
Suddenly, the world didn’t make sense. It was just a blur of faces and names, of species and genders, of good and bad. The facets of nature, of mankind, blurred together until everything was indecipherable. I could barely breathe, barely think, barely hear anything over the sound of my heart beating.
Breaking.
I think the asshole just broke my heart.
My chest grew as taut as the strings on a violin.
“What the fuck is he thinking?” Ryland muttered irately.
All I could do was stare at the door they had disappeared through. Stare. As if that would somehow compel them to come back.
My hands were shaking, horror and rage the predominant emotions. They settled heavily in my stomach, curdling like a spoiled cheese.
The silence stretched until it became almost unbearable. Ryland’s eyes remained on me - even through the shadowy cloak, I could feel their gentle caress.
“It doesn’t matter.” My voice was soft, devoid of emotion. “He can do what he wants.”
“Z...it’s not what you’re thinking.”
“Do you know for sure?” I spun around to face him, hands clenching into fists. “You’re with me, not them. How do you know? How do you fucking know?” A humorless laugh escaped me followed immediately by a snort. “I wonder how she will react when she discovers he can’t get hard.”
“I think you’re blowing things out of proportion,” he cajoled soothingly. The shadows moved as he stepped closer, hand extending as if he meant to put it on my shoulder and comfort me.
I took an automatic step backwards, bristling. I imagined that if I was a cat my fur would be standing on end, and I would be hissing. My emotions were running rampant within me, a hurricane that threatened to flood my mind. I tried to calm them, tried to reel them in, but they assaulted me repeatedly.
“Says the coward who hides his face,” I spat and then immediately regretted it. “Ryland...”
But he was already gone. The shadows had diminished as if a giant spotlight had come, effectively eliminating them. I was now alone.
Alone.
Alone.
That thought echoed in my head.
Before I could second guess myself, I walked briskly to the back door. It led to a magnificent garden, currently sheathed in moonlight. I could distantly decipher the shape of a marble fountain, emitting a soft blue glow. Whether that was from a spell or electricity I couldn’t decide.
A few people gave me strange looks as I stepped outside, but not any of those people were my mates.
I imagined they would be furious with me, but at that moment, I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything.
My rage had ebbed leaving behind an icy numbness. It sprang from the tips of my fingers, up my neck, and then down my body. Encasing me in a slate of ice.
Suffocating me.
The air was crisp, a slight wind blowing my hair back. It smelled like scented pine, despite the fact that there was no pine tree in sight. A facet of magic, I imagined.
Steps brisk, I walked further into the garden.
A stone statue caught my attention. The artist had outdone himself. Each detail was intricate, carved with precision. It was a man dressed in finery, mouth opened in a scream. The artist had captured the horror emanating from his eyes.
Rubbing my hand over the statue’s cold shoulders, I thought back to what I had seen.
Bash’s treachery was still too raw, a wound that hadn’t quite scabbed yet. The child in me, the insecure girl, wanted to pick repeatedly at the skin until it bled.
Why had he done it? I had thought - perhaps misguidedly - that we were making headway. When we had danced, he hadn’t been looking at me like the enemy. He hadn’t looked at me as if he hated me.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
I should’ve listened to myself the first time. I should’ve listened to the warning voice in my head steering me away from these seven deadly men.
And because of my own stupidity, my heart had broken.
I had offered it up to him, and he had watched it crumble. I had no one to blame but myself.
Never again, I vowed, pulling up my dress and grabbing the diamond encrusted dagger. A gift from Devlin.
Spinning it in my hand, I finally released the scream I’d been holding in. The dagger flew from my hand, flying through the air and bouncing off another statue a few feet away.
Why hadn’t my mates followed me into the garden?
Why did that even matter?
And why the fuck was I so emotional?
Realization settled over me like a heavy cloak.
The asshole Kings.
They had done something to me.
I knew, from both research and experience, that Incubi were able to manipulate emotions if they were powerful enough. All it took was skin to skin contact.
My mind flittered back to when the King had kissed my hand.
Since then, everything had felt enhanced, as if I was seeing the world through a new lens. Shinier. Brighter.
Those fucking assholes!
The despair turned to anger, white hot. It threatened to burn me from the inside out. Burn me alive.
Through the hazy cloud of fury, I realized that I was playing directly into their hands. They wanted a strong emotion from me, planned on it, and no doubt were waiting for me back in the ballroom.
Did they want my fury?
Because they could fucking have it.
Mentally, I planned using my dagger to carve off their skin. The Incubus King would go first, of course. I would pay extra attention to his nutsack. I wondered how appealing he would be with a castrated penis.
Fuming, I marched towards my dagger and picked it up. I was
