Grim was unleashed.
His hands gripped her waist, lifting her into the air with little effort. He hooked her feet behind him and brought them to the bed. Her back hit the sheets, and his hand returned to where it had been. Their chests were flush, just as they had been when he had shielded her from the arrows. He leaned down and looked her right in the eye, like he wanted her to hear every word. “Next time, I’ll use my mouth,” he said. “And then, after that—”
She needed to feel him. Her hand shifted below his waist, to the evidence of his desire, and all thoughts eddied away.
He filled her with all sorts of want, and she didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to make him feel as good as he was making her feel, but just having her hand on him made his breath catch.
At least, until he gently removed her hand and laced their fingers together. He pinned her hand above her head. “Let me focus on you,” he said. “I don’t want to miss a moment of this.”
He filled her more than she ever thought possible, and she met him movement for movement, eyes fluttering closed. “That’s it, Hearteater,” he said. “Make it good for you.”
“Grim,” she said. His name caught in her throat and she clutched his shoulders.
He looked her right in the eyes and said, “Remember this, Hearteater, the next time you want to stab me through the chest.”
He swallowed her final moans with his mouth and pulled her into him, lifting her to his chest with a hand against her lower back. He held her closely, so closely. Only minutes later did he set her down.
Lost for breath, lost for sanity, she managed to say, “I’ll remember.”
REUNION
Isla didn’t want to remember anything else. He had stolen her people. He had forced them to his territory. How afraid they must have been. How unwilling.
It was time to bring an end to this.
At midnight, Isla sneaked back to her room. Oro would hate her if he knew what she was about to do. Everyone would. None of them would trust her again, because what she was planning was so traitorous, so foolish—
She stood in the center of her room, the moon wide as a judgmental eye through the window in front of her.
She pulled her necklace.
If she had feared he wouldn’t come, that he wouldn’t drop anything he was doing and rush to her, she was wrong.
Barely a second after her fingers left the black diamond, she heard a step behind her. Then, “Hearteater.”
She turned and he immediately swept her into his arms. He looked crazed, hungry, relieved, so relieved. He was an inch from pressing his lips against hers, and she was an inch from letting him—she was confused, she told herself, the memories were messing with her—before he saw her expression. Sensed her emotions. There was no thread between them. From her side, anyway.
He went still.
“You heartless demon,” she said.
Grim’s eyes had been pleased, delighted, but now he looked devastated. “You don’t remember.”
“I remember plenty,” she said, stumbling away from him. Her eyes glimmered with tears. Angry, angry tears. “How could you?”
“You got my note.”
“Yes, I got your note,” she said, spitting the words out with disgust. “How could you take them? How could you make them go with you?”
Grim raised a hand. “I didn’t make them do anything,” he said. “They chose to come with me.”
No. Liar. “Why would they ever go with you?”
At that, Grim went silent.
He wasn’t telling her something. But he didn’t have to. Pieces came together, questions finding answers.
She shook her head, unbelieving. Hoping she was wrong. “You have Poppy and Terra,” she said, her voice a whisper. “You took them in.”
Grim nodded, and her tears fell freely now. The betrayal . . .
“You know what they did to me. What they did to my parents—”
“It is unforgivable,” he said. “But you need them. You need—”
“I don’t need anyone!” The words exploded out of her. The vines on her balcony rushed through the open door, spreading like fingers, devouring the room. Shadows leaked from her feet, from her hands.
Grim’s face broke in half, into the biggest smile. “Heart, you are radiant,” he said.
Her shadows lunged at him, but he stopped them with a simple wave of his hand.
Her voice shook. “You are a monster.”
Grim frowned. “Am I?” He took a step forward. “Tell me why I’m a monster. Because I brought your people to a place with more comfort, more options, more chances of survival? Because I have them all waiting for your return?”
Her return. He made it sound like a certainty, and she nearly laughed in his face.
“Because I helped them forget what they did?”
Isla froze. “You . . . what?”
“Some of your people were suffering from endless guilt. They couldn’t get past the actions they had committed during the curses. I . . . took their memories away.”
Shadows exploded out of her. She heard the mirrors in her room shatter, but they were just white noise compared to the anger that surged through her. “How could you? Haven’t you learned?”
“They asked me to,” he said. “Are you denying your people their own choices?”
She shook her head. “Why would anyone ask you to do that?”
His face hardened. It seemed he wanted to tell her something, but instead, he changed the subject. “We made a deal . . . remember? Wildling help with nightbane, in exchange for a very vague assortment of whatever your people needed.” He shrugged. “I was simply making good on it.”
Isla curled her lip in disgust. “I suppose you think that makes you generous, don’t you? Helping my people? You are not. You are a monster. You portaled the dreks here. They killed dozens of people, innocents—”
Grim bared his teeth. “I did no such thing. I told you before, dreks were buried below Lightlark and Nightshade. They must have started rising up, the same way they did on Nightshade.”
“They went to your land, like they were called—”
“I didn’t call them. They must have sensed their kind.”
“You control them,” she said. “I know you have the sword.”
At that, Grim studied her. “I do. But I did not order them to attack Lightlark. I swear it.”
Her mouth went dry. There it was. Confirmation that Grim had gotten the sword. And, somehow, he had found a way to use it.
Even if he didn’t order the attack, she had endless reasons to hate him. “You are coming to kill everyone on the island. You will murder thousands of innocents just to get it. You sent a message of ruin, of destruction—”
“No. I’m not. I warned everyone here, which is more than they deserve. They can either leave . . . or join us. It is their choice. No one has to die.”
It was almost heartbreaking how he really believed this. If only he knew what she had seen. All the death that would result from his own hand.
Her own death.
“Do you really think anyone would give up their home without fighting?”
“When fighting is futile . . . I do.”
Isla was filled with rage. Hurt.