He stopped and stared at me for a moment before he laughed loudly, a sneer on his face.
“A queen drinking from a toilet bowl? I was wondering how you were surviving.” He squatted in front of me and reached out and wiped a dribble of water from my chin. “I saw Levin today. He’s back with Celeste. Drake is pissed she left him. It’s a whole mess really.” He offered me a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “And Vincent and Stella were caught together. Hail destroyed her room and nearly killed her, but like always, De Santis saved the day.”
If my stomach wasn’t already empty, I was sure I’d have emptied it in the toilet at his words.
“T-They really did leave me?” I whispered hoarsely, my heart hurting.
“Yes. So stop punishing yourself. There’s no need in it. They don’t care about you. Don’t you think they’d have come for you? You did tell De Santis you didn’t want to be married any more. What was he like after you told him that?”
I thought back to how distant he’d been after my awful words.
“He was withdrawn,” I whispered.
Tate nodded knowingly. “See? He let you go. Maybe it’s time you let him and the kings go.”
They were gone. It wasn’t so hard to believe given the photograph, my words to Dominic, and the fact they hadn’t found me. Tate was right. It was Dominic. He could find anyone if he wanted to.
And Fallon had made it clear we were over when I told him I wouldn’t leave the kings to run away with him.
I was really alone.
“And then what?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Then you can finally be my very good girl. Wouldn’t you like that? No more hunger. No more drinking from the toilet.” He brushed my hair behind my ear. “I can make everything better.”
I nodded weakly, my heart in so much agony I didn’t think I’d be able to speak as the realization of only having Tate crashed through me. I hated it. But I wanted to live. And we all had to do things we didn’t like to survive. This would just be another one of mine.
“Show me,” he said, holding his hand out for me to take.
Gingerly, I placed my hand in his and moved forward so we were closer.
“What do I do?” I asked, exhausted from lack of food.
“What do you think I want?” He raised his brows.
I knew what he wanted. I hated it. But I hated dying more. So I leaned in and pressed my lips against his, hoping beyond anything that I’d be rewarded with food and maybe even a blanket.
His lips parted as he moved his hand to my waist. His tongue prodded along the seam of my lips until I granted him entry, the nausea churning. He didn’t thrust his tongue deep into my mouth. He teased my lips and tongue for all of a moment before breaking the kiss off.
In another world, I’d have said his kiss was good. I may have even enjoyed it if I weren’t his captive.
He’s all I had now.
He offered me his hand. I took it, nervous about where he’d lead me and what we’d do once we got there.
I didn’t resist. I simply allowed him to sit me on the bed. He sat beside me and pulled out a sandwich and handed it to me.
A tear trickled out.
I’d done good. I’d been rewarded.
I took the sandwich, my hands trembling, and unwrapped it. He watched as I bit into it, savoring the meat and cheese.
“It’s been a long time since you’ve eaten,” he said. “You could have died on me.”
I said nothing as I took another bite and chewed.
“Eat slowly. I don’t want you getting sick.”