Wicked Abyss (Immortals After Dark #17) - Kresley Cole Page 0,108

rested his face on a tree stump. He raised his weapon above his head.

This is forever, Sian.

So will her marriage be.

There is no future without her.

He let fall the ax. Pain. Unimaginable. He silently screamed. Consciousness faded in and out.

But somehow he managed to amputate his own horns. In shock, he sheathed his bloodied ax and collected the remains.

He sneaked back into the castle, then slipped into her room once more. Uncaring of all the attendants, he offered Kari his once-noble horns. “You told me you could never love a male like me. These will not ever grow back. I will look as your kind do. I will live as your kind do.”

He thought he saw a flicker of emotion in her eyes, but then she glanced around at her scandalized attendants. Her expression was cold when she faced him again.

“Kari, I would do anything for you. I would take out my heart and give it to you if I could.”

“Demon, you will regret this deed for the rest of your life.”

He squared his shoulders. “I am proud of my pain. Of my loss.” He raised his sacrifice to her. “Proud that my actions are in the service of a cause so precious.”

She simply tilted her head. As if he’d presented her with an unknown variable. “You almost look like a person now. But I should have said: I do not—and could never—love you. In any guise. You are a fool if you ever thought otherwise.”

Bile rose in his throat. “Then why act as if you cared for me? Why lead me to believe . . . ?”

“Young lovers tell each other secrets, do they not?”

Comprehension: nothing between them had been true. “You . . . you spied for your parents.”

“Indeed. Come now, you had to know deep down that you are beneath me.” She was like all the other fey, able to turn off her emotions. She’d evaluated her involvement with a young demon prince and rationally—coldly—concluded he wasn’t worth the bother.

With a shrug, she picked up the skirt of her wedding gown and gave him her back as she traipsed away.

While blood ran down his face, he willed her to turn back and see him. To comprehend that he would do anything for her. Turn around, Kari. Look at me!

She never did.

Millennia later, Sian bellowed with rage. When would he learn? He tore at his hair, bashing his fists against his head.

His mate’s past and the present swirled together in his mind, her statements melding.

I do not—and could never—love you. . . . I won’t rest until I discover a way to hurt Abyssian Infernas. . . . You are beneath me. . . . I’ll do anything I can to destroy him. . . . You’re a fool. . . .

His legs buckled, his knees meeting the shore.

Before he’d left Calliope earlier, he’d stared down at her. Hating her. Loving her.

He’d fallen for her utterly. And now that he knew what love felt like, he realized he hadn’t yet been in love with Kari. Maybe he’d been too young, or he’d needed more time. Maybe Calliope’s passion had pushed him over into the brink.

I loved her.

He swiped at his face, surprised to find two humiliating tears running down his cheeks.

The last time he’d learned that she loved another, he’d disfigured himself and offered up the remains. Now he would spurn Calliope, behaving as coldly with her as Kari had with him. Never would he let his mate know he’d been stupid enough to fall for the same trick twice.

The more pain he felt when he confronted Calliope, the calmer he would be.

He envisioned his revenge. It was because he’d set aside his trickery that he’d left himself vulnerable. Now she would pay—as she should have from the beginning.

His wrath knew no bounds. So hot, it felt . . . freezing.

He held his breath, and the sea stilled. Ice formed around his knees. A sheet of it crept out from him.

Cold. Like his crumbling stone heart. . . .

FIFTY-TWO

Abyssian wasn’t there when Lila woke the next morning. Disappointed, she looked for his note.

He always left a note.

She frowned when she didn’t find one. Maybe he was talking with Uthyr in the throne room. Strange, the weather had grown blustery again, the temperature dropping.

As soon as Abyssian returned, she would sit him down. Her resolve to tell him everything hadn’t wavered over the night.

After dressing, she gazed in the mirror and traced her neck. She couldn’t see his mark—only