A Touch Of Hate

Chapter 16

Verity

His words followed me like an angry poltergeist demanding justice.

"No matter how much I would prefer to hate you, I can't quite make myself do that anymore."

He didn't hate me. And I couldn't help but feel horrible because of it.

Standing right outside the small inn on the outskirts of Trost, I couldn't stop dwelling on those words. I couldn't stop picturing his face or feeling a phantom touch of his fingers on my cheek as he brushed the strand of my hair away from my face. His eyes - bluer than I'd ever seen - sucked me in their depths, taking all the air from my lungs. The look he gave me left me speechless and hurt at the same time, just as the thought of my mission fused in. Those thoughts suddenly felt like a deadly poison overtaking a healthy body. Like a bucket of black ink dumped into the stunningly beautiful fountain.

Wrong.

Painful.

Real.

I had to take a deep breath and forcefully shove those memories away as I pulled on the entrance door and walked in. The stuffed air inside smelled of tobacco and cheap wine, and the sour smell of the latter made my stomach churn. The bar-like foyer was mostly empty, and the bartender seemed bored as he absent-mindedly rubbed at the stained glass. Holding my breath, I stepped farther into the room, catching his attention. His eyes roamed over me, and I instantly fell sick at the sticky sensation his greedy eyes left along their way.

"I'm here to visit Mr. Hastler," I stated, trying to ignore the crawling feeling on my skin from his studying gaze. At my words, he cringed and waved towards the stairs.

"Second floor, first door on the right."

I hurried toward the stairs, rushing up each step. I stopped before the indicated door, catching my breath and listening to what was happening inside. Silence. Utter and deadly silence.

I knocked, and the door instantly flew open. A familiar face greeted me, but instead of feeling relieved as before, I felt terror creeping in.

"Inside," he commanded, and I obliged. My body obeyed his command on its own accord. As though it was normal. As though I was made to serve him.

Shutting the door, Kenny turned to study me. His eyes traveled the length of my body. It wasn't a worried look, though. More like he was making sure that his prized possession was in one piece before the auction. I felt sick all of a sudden.

"Good to see you in one piece after the mission," he finally said, strolling toward the small dining table on the right side of the room. He grabbed a glass filled with amber liquid and sipped before facing me again. "Why was your report not on time?"

I gulped, getting my emotions under control. "I'd decided to give it to you in person." He regarded me from behind his glass - his gaze cold and sharp, emotionless and determined. Something pinched me on the inside, and the hurt flooded my chest with the intensity of a rain shower. The disapproval and suspicion in his gaze made me painfully aware of the duties I'd recently disregarded. Of my focus being anywhere but where it was supposed to be. I felt instantly ill with myself. Horrified by the person, I'd become. "I failed you," I whispered as my chest contorted in pain. "I should have contacted you earlier, but...."

"Ah, that infamous but!" He exclaimed, interrupting me just when fear bit at my insides, salving the pain and leaving a bitter aftertaste in my mouth. "I thought you vowed your life to me. Or did you change your mind?" He asked, stepping closer, and I backed away until I hit the wall. My breath staggered as he neared. Cornered, I felt as if I was walking on the edge of a knife. One misstep, and it would be over. I'd never felt like that with Kenny before. He'd always brought me some sort of comfort. Sense of belonging. Yet now, I felt anything but. I felt hunted. Threatened. Moments away from death.