CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
VIV WALKED TOWARD THE BED, slipping off her shoes as she went, like she had all the time in the world to be murdered.
Moonlight poured through the open French doors, framing Henley in silhouette—broad shoulders, a body solid with muscle. The curtains fluttered like doves’ wings, and so did Viv’s heart.
She’d felt guilty at first, because she’d let him believe she wasn’t going to the underworld; but the longer he stayed silent, the less guilty she felt. Henley didn’t need a knife to kill her. He could do it with his bare hands. So what was this? Was he trying to scare her?
She steeled herself to be as cold and sharp as the knife.
“You’re going to make a mess if you do it here,” she said. “And if you think I’m going into the woods with you, I’m not. I’m tired. I’ve been dancing with my prince all night. But I guess you knew that.”
“Yeah, I bet you had a great time. Was he worth it?”
“You really don’t give a shit, do you? You just go off and party. You don’t tell me anything. I have to find out—”
“I don’t have to tell you anything. I told you enough this morning. Clearly, that was a mistake.”
“A mistake?” Henley dropped the knife. “Yeah, you’re full of those.”
She tensed, but didn’t back away as he came near her; and when his fingers closed around her wrist she could feel the emotion in his touch. He lifted her closed hand to his face as if it were a rose, his lips brushing her knuckles as he said:
“Do you have a death wish? Why didn’t you tell me there was another Huntsman?”
The question startled her.
“I—I don’t know.”
“Viv.” He sighed against her hand. “You need to tell me stuff like this. I can’t control him. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”
The house was so quiet … Viv could hear their every breath, and the chorus of insects outside, the bellow of frogs, the slow creaking whir of the ceiling fan. Hot summer sweat glued their skin together. He bent his head to her hand like a prayer.
“I came here to see you. I didn’t know you were gone. And Regina invited the other Huntsman over. He talked to me like I was his apprentice.… He brought a rabbit and gutted it on the kitchen table. He said that next time, he’d bring a doe. He said it would be more like killing you.”
She put her hand over her heart instinctively, as if it were in her power to hold it there.
“You can’t stay here. He’ll always know where to find you if you do. I don’t know if your stepmom believes in me. If she doesn’t, and she orders him to kill you … I can’t save you. I won’t even know it’s happening.”
“Is that why you kept the knife? To save me?”
“I kept it because I need her to think I’m on board for this. That I”—he seemed to wrestle with the words—“want your heart … as much as she does.”
“Don’t you want it more?”
Henley didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. She was his life. They were each other’s, or had been.
Viv sank down on the bed next to the dagger and pressed her fingertip to the blade. It was sharp enough to cut with the lightest touch, and a bead of blood blossomed on her skin. Out of habit, she squeezed three ruby drops into her palm. The same three drops that had inspired Snow White curses for generations.
Red as blood, white as lies.
“You can’t stay here,” Henley said.
“I’ll go to Jewel’s.”
“What’s Jewel going to do if the Huntsman kicks in her door and comes after you?”
“I don’t know. Are you planning on kicking her door down?”
“I’m serious. What’s she going to do for you? She can’t protect you. You need to be somewhere safe.”
“Like the underworld? My prince has a bedroom reserved for me.”
“Yeah, I’ve got a coffin reserved for him. The glass one downstairs.”
“No, that’s mine. Didn’t Regina tell you? I figured she would have covered that during one of your chats.”
“Get up. We’re leaving.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Do you think I have a special murder spot picked out? If I wanted to kill you, why wouldn’t I do it here? I’m not worried about traumatizing your stepmom. I don’t think that’s even possible.”
“My chipmunks would bite the shit out of you. You might not want to risk it.”
“Get. Up. Right now. Pack a bag if you want. If I have to carry you out, all you’re going to have is the dress you’re wearing.”
“Where are we going?” she asked, getting up to pack, not wanting to call his bluff.
“Somewhere the Huntsman won’t look for you. Somewhere he’ll regret looking if he does.”