The Faire (Harrow Faire #5) - Kathryn Ann Kingsley Page 0,83
looked exactly like her.
Terror boiled up in her, and she jerked against the strings holding her in place without meaning to. She let out a frightened whine. His strings instantly tightened, and she gagged in pain.
“Sit still, Cora dear. Don’t worry. It’ll all be over soon.” He stroked her hair, and she tried her best to yank her head away from him. He tutted and walked in front of her, crouching down by her feet. “Oh, now, now…don’t be like that. You knew this was bound to happen. You know who I am. I’ve never been anything but honest with you.”
She was shivering. Adrenaline was crashing through her like wildfire, and she wanted nothing more than to snap the strings and beat him within an inch of his life. She saw nothing but dark and sadistic amusement on his face. “Why, Simon?”
“I thought you’d never ask!” He sat back on his ankles. “Well. That’s simple. The ball of lard behind me said it best. Trust in motives, not in words. And my motives are very simple, darling. My life was good before you arrived. It was simple. Uncomplicated. And entirely about me. You came in and changed all of that.”
She watched him, feeling her heart crumble to dust in her chest. “But…he wants to kill us.”
“He does, and that’s fine. I don’t care if everyone else dies. I want to survive. So I made a deal. Quite simple, really. He and I both get what we want. He gets to starve Harrow Faire to death—the day after I burn out and expire. He agreed to keep this place alive and kicking for however long that takes. And I agreed to dispose of his little problem.” Simon rested his hand on her knee, and she jerked, but there was no getting away from him. He smirked and slid his hand up to her thigh. “A problem that I shared as well. You’ve changed everything in my life, Cora. Everything.”
She shut her eyes and lost her battle with her tears. She didn’t want to cry for him. But she didn’t know how not to. She felt the liquid run down her cheeks. “Damn you, Simon…Damn you to hell.”
He stood and leaned over her, one hand on the back of the chair and the other around her throat. He tilted her head back to look up at him. His voice lowered to a husky growl. It was sexual, even as it was vicious. “Do you love me, Cora? All that I am? Simon the Puppeteer? The devil, the madman, the fiend? Even now? Even as I’m about to rip out your seity and stuff it into a piece of artwork? Even after I’ve betrayed you?”
She looked into those black-red-white eyes of his…and knew she was a lost cause. She knew she deserved to die because she was too stupid to live. She whispered to him, unable to speak much louder through the rock in her throat. “If I survive this, I’m going to beat you to death. I’m going to bash your head open on a rock. I’ll do it a hundred times if I have to. I’m a fool for not having seen this coming…but it doesn’t change how I feel.” She swallowed thickly. “I’ll always love you.”
He smiled tenderly, and something flickered in his eyes. He kissed her. She tried to turn her head away, but his grip wouldn’t allow it. So she did the next best thing. She bit his lip as hard as she could.
He yanked his head back, grunting in pain, and let go of her throat to touch his lip. She hadn’t drawn blood. Damn. Simon chuckled and leaned his head in close to hers again. She turned away, and he kissed her cheek by her ear before whispering, “Do you trust me, Cora? Do you really trust me? You said you did. Now…I want to find out.”
He left her suddenly, leaving her to be able to do nothing else but watch him in stunned silence as he straightened, dabbed at his lip with his handkerchief, and tucked the folded piece of fabric back into his coat pocket. He turned to Ringmaster. “Now, Cora, you might be wondering, ‘Simon, you sexy devil, how can you trust that over-proofed ball of dough? What’s stopping him from breaking his word to you, just like he broke his word to me?’ That’s a very good question, cupcake. I know you were about to ask it. You’re just a little slow