A hunger through time-11
570 Words
Lucy’s pov
The library was a tomb of silence, save for the frantic, uneven rhythm of our breathing. Cornelius had pulled me behind the heavy oak door the moment the music swelled in the ballroom, his hands mapping my body with a rough, clinical disregard that left no room for sentiment.
He shoved me back against the mahogany shelving, his eyes burning with a cold, mocking light. He was not the man he portrayed to Alice; here, in the shadows, he was a creature of sharp edges and sharper intentions.
"You’re trembling," he murmured, his voice a serrated blade against my ear. He gripped my hair, forcing my head back until I was looking up into his jagged, triumphant smirk. "Is it fear, Lucy? Or are you finally realizing how much you despise that you’re the one who enjoys this?"
"I hate you," I breathed, my fingers digging into his shoulders. It was a lie, a wretched, hollow thing. "You’re using her. You don't love her."
His laughter was a low, ugly sound in the small space. He pressed his hips against mine, a dominant, crushing weight. "Love? You think I care for the girl? She is a soft, naive bloom—the favorite daughter, the golden child of a foolish man. She is nothing more than the key to your father’s coffers. Once the dowry is secured and the business is bled dry, I shall have everything I require."
He paused, his hand sliding down to clasp my throat, his thumb tracing my racing pulse with mocking precision. "And you? You’re the shadow, aren't you? The older, bitter sister. The one who has to watch while the pretty little doll gets the prize. You know it, deep down. You’ve always been the second choice, Alice. The consolation prize for a world that never looked twice when she was in the room."
The words stung worse than a slap, raw and humiliating. My vision blurred with hot, shamed tears. I wanted to scream, to break away, but his presence was an intoxicating, suffocating trap.
"She loves you," I sobbed, the irony of it tearing through me. "She believes you’re a god."
"She believes in a fairy tale," Cornelius sneered, his eyes darkening with a terrifying, calculated cruelty. "And I am the one writing the ending. I’m going to make her miserable, Lucy. I’m going to isolate her, tear her away from this house, and watch her realize exactly who she married. And you—"
He leaned in close, his lips brushing mine in a kiss that tasted of malice. "You’re going to sit at our table and watch it happen. You’re going to be my witness, aren't you? Because you love the rot as much as I do."
He bit down on my lower lip, a sharp, possessive sting, before pulling back to study my face with a look of pure, unadulterated contempt. He didn't care for me, and he didn't care for her. He was a spider spinning a web of gold and misery, and I was just another insect caught in the weave, pinned by his touch and paralyzed by the intoxicating, terrible truth of what he was.
He straightened his cravat, looking perfectly composed, while I stood there, shattered and reeling, watching him walk toward the door to return to the woman who would die for him, all while he planned her complete and total destruction
- Writer
