Page 3 of Malevolent Hearts
There is a cost for being so flippant with my trust, and unfortunately, foolish girls pay with fragile hearts. Here’s hoping I’m strong enough to withstand the break.
Two
Beibhinn
The Present
Here I opened wide the door;
Darkness there, and nothing more.
—Edgar Allan Poe
I’m pulled from my drug-induced siesta by the echo of pacing footsteps and the low murmured baritone of Cadden’s voice as he whispers into his phone.
Unlike earlier, my mind registers my whereabouts in an instant. Over the years, I’ve spent many summer days and nights in this bed, tangled in trouble. I knew one day the poor decision I’d made to trust my heart would come back to bite me in the fucking arse. Unfortunately, I was too stubborn to hear the warnings.
With my head still a little foggy, I sift through the haze clouding my mind. The memory of last night’s events sobered me enough to know that the nasty headache I have was never from my alcohol consumption but rather the effects of whatever the hell Cadden injected into my neck before he dragged my arse across the country. Un-fucking-willingly.
Cadden is keeping something from me. Why else would he feel the need to lock me in his tower as though I’m some captured damsel in distress. Needing answers, I hold my eyes shut in hopes of figuring out what’s going on, or who is on the other end of his call.
My ears strain to make sense of the hushed rambles that are barely audible over the sound of crashing waves beating against the cliffside. But then he draws closer, lowering himself into the armchair next to the bed. My senses heighten as I remain motionless, unwilling to tip him off to my now alert state. It’s no secret to me that Cadden keeps his cards close to his chest, refusing to ever display the hand he’s holding. If he knew I was awake and eavesdropping, he’d hang up the call straight away, and I’d be none the wiser to the events that led me here.
Behind every cryptic sentence, a storm rages inside me. I need answers. My desire for the truth outweighs the risk of me going balls to the wall and demanding the secrets he keeps. I’d be a fool to think Cadden doesn’t know more than he’s saying. There’s a reason he’d refused to take me back to Kill Castle when I’d asked him, and why he’d gone to such drastic measures to ensure I didn’t disobey. Sure, I’m not known for following commands, especially those from the men in my life, but was drugging me really fucking necessary? What was the agenda behind his deceit? Looking back on how the night played out, Cadden was adamant about getting me as far away from the party as possible… But why?
Here’s hoping I find out soon enough. Cadden may be the smartest person in every room he enters, but I don’t need a Mensa-level IQ to know that secrets always spill in the silence.
Cadden falls quiet for a moment, listening to the muffled words of whoever is on the other end of the call. When a heavy sigh leaves him, I chance a peek through a slight squint of my eyelid, hoping he doesn’t notice my subtle movement. With his phone held tight against his left ear, his body sinks back into his favourite, high-backed leather reading chair. Using his free hand, he scrubs his fingers across his forehead, relieving himself of whatever tension teases his furrowed brow. He tips his head back, tilting his chin towards the glass ceiling, but I don’t miss the way his teeth sink into his bottom lip. Finally, he speaks, but his tone is far from the confident prince I’m used to. Instead, it’s cloaked in something indescribable, a defeat that doesn’t mesh with the Cadden I know so well.
“How am I supposed to tell her?” He throws the statement into the air, but he sounds unsure, almost deflated.
I wait for the response but am disappointed when I’m met with nothing but inaudible mutters.
“She saw the sky on fire,” he confirms. “Fuck, we were over ten kilometres away, and the ground still shook beneath us.”
It’s evident he’s speaking about me, but there is a massive chunk missing. Did he know about the explosion? Is that why he drugged me? It takes everything in me to keep my composure. My heart is pounding, thrumming in my eardrums with the finesse of a boat horn. Needing to steady the booming beat, I trap the air in my lungs before releasing it in a slow and steady breath and continue my earwigging.
“Doesn’t matter. She won’t see it that way.”
See what? Come on, Cadden. For once in your life, could you be a little less fucking cryptic?
“If she doesn’t strangle me first.”
Well, that’s ominous but also… accurate.
Stealing another peek, I watch his blurry form through a narrow slit. Finally, he ends the call and places his phone on top of the locker next to us before picking up his beloved leather-bound journal. He flips it open where the quill bookmark keeps track of the last page used. Once he’s found where he left off, he sets it on his lap.
As his gaze sweeps over the last entry, his hand covers his mouth, ring-clad fingers needling the hollows of his cheeks. Even now, knowing he’s kidnapped me against my will, I can’t stop the flurry of want that comes rushing in when I look at him. Sure, I hate myself for the thought, but I can’t help it. I’ve never been able to where Cadden is concerned. There is nothing more intoxicating than the chaotic beauty of a devil’s temptation. After all, it’s how so many angels fell. Lord knows if I had the strength to resist my future husband, I wouldn’t be tied up in a fucking lighthouse wondering if the fire I saw raging along the skyline harmed anyone I love.
The weight of that thought ripples through me, eliminating the lust-induced haze. Suddenly, the anger is back with a vengeance, and this time I can’t hide behind a false slumber. I have to say something.
My eyes snap open fully, and I’m surprised when Cadden’s gaze is already fixated on me, seemingly unfazed by my swift awakening.
“’Bout time you stopped pretending, Mal.” He reaches for his whiskey glass resting on the arm of the chair. Then, bringing it to his lips, he swallows the amber liquid in one mouthful.
A sneer forms on my lips, annoyed by his indifference. “When did you realise I was awake?”
His shoulders fall forward, closing some of the space between us yet leaving a safe enough distance where I can’t loaf him with a headbutt. Closing his journal, he draws it to his chest before resting an elbow on his knee. Holding my attention with his unwavering gaze, he props his chin on top of his knuckles. “Around the time I sat down.”