Chapter 17 · Drenched in Defiance

The bolt slammed home behind me.

It sounded like a gunshot in the dark.

Dante didn't put me down. Not right away. I hung over his shoulder, soaking lake water straight through the wool of his ruined suit, my ribs rattling with every violent beat of my heart.

"Put me down," I said.

"Ask like you mean it."

"Go to hell."

He dropped me.

My bare feet hit the cold black marble. My knees nearly buckled. The suite was pitch-black except for the moonlight slicing through the terrace bars, striping across the king bed, the floor, his face.

Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth. My handprint still burned red against his cheek.

Good. I wanted it to hurt.

I also wanted to drag my tongue over that split lip, and that sick twist in my gut made me hate myself twice as much as I hated him.

"You're shaking," he said.

"I'm freezing."

"Bullshit."

He was right. I'd die before I admitted it.

I yanked the drenched silk bodice away from my chest. It clung like oil, heavy and cold. Lake water dripped off my chin and ran down my collarbone.