Sweet Hatred-Chapter 228: like a damn shadow

Kael caught my gaze across the room. He still wasn’t smiling or blinking. But his eyes burned into mine like he was ready to hunt.

I looked away, the image of him and Ash together still replaying in my mind.

Sylas, ever perceptive, leaned toward me. "You’re really not good at hiding the way you want him."

"I swear, if you say one more thing, just one, I’ll throw you off this balcony."

Sylas grinned. That same lazy, lopsided smirk like he had every right to get under my skin. "You know, most people just say thank you when someone saves their life."

I stopped walking. "You’re never going to let that go, are you?"

He raised both hands like I’d just accused him of murder. "You say it like I didn’t fish you out of the ocean while you were shivering and looking like a broken mermaid."

I exhaled sharply, then glared at him. "Broken mermaid? Really?"

He leaned in, a bit too close. "A very pretty broken mermaid."

"God," I muttered. "Do you ever shut up?"

He shrugged. "I could, but I think the world would be less charming."

I resumed walking, pushing past a masked waiter offering tiny silver trays of oysters and strange bite-sized art pieces masquerading as food. The room throbbed with soft bass and whispered power, but I was burning for air.

Sylas followed me like a damn shadow.

"I never thought," he said after a beat, his voice suddenly softer, "that the sad-eyed woman I met on the beach that night would end up standing between my sister and her fiancé."

My steps faltered.

I turned slowly, met his gaze. "Ashlyn seems fine with it."

He gave a small, unreadable smile. "Ashlyn seems fine with a lot of things. Doesn’t mean she is."

I hesitated. "So do you hate me now?"

"For what?" His brows lifted. "Fucking your boss?"

"Yes."

He laughed into the back of his hand, then shook his head. "No, I don’t. It’s none of my business, unless people decide to make it mine."

The weight in his tone wasn’t playful anymore.

I turned away before I could start reading between lines I wasn’t supposed to even see.

"I need a drink," I muttered.

"Stay here." And before I could argue, he was gone.

I found a little pocket of space near the far edge of the balcony, where the lights from the villa below glimmered like something enchanted. The ocean breeze bit through my skin despite the thick fabric of my gown, but it felt cleaner here. Like the only place at this godforsaken gala that didn’t reek of greed or secrets.

A few guests loitered in the shadows, draped in gold and other expensive shit. Most were too drunk to notice me.

Then Sylas returned.

In his hands: two crystal glasses. And an obsidian bottle of something that looked like it cost more than my apartment.

I squinted. "What is that?"

He popped the cork and poured. "Dalmore L’Anima 49. It’s strong enough to make your insides sing."

"You’re insane."

"And you asked for a drink. You didn’t specify how much of your soul you wanted to forget."

He handed me a glass.

I hesitated.

He tilted his head. "What? You think I poisoned it?"

I snatched it. "No but If I die, I’m haunting you."

He grinned. "Promise?"

"Ugh."

We drank.

The burn was instant, sweet and smoky at first, then dark and heavy like regret. I hissed softly through my teeth and Sylas chuckled.

"Feels like swallowing lava, doesn’t it?"

I nodded, blinking the tears from my lashes. "Good lava. Though I think my liver might give up on me soon."

Sylas chuckled.

The silence stretched between us, thick with the weight of everything unsaid. Below, the gala pulsed on, laughter, music, the delicate chime of champagne flutes. But up here, it was just me, Sylas, and the slow burn of very expensive alcohol slipping down my throat like fire-coated honey.

I drank again. Then again. The heat bloomed in my cheeks, the world softening at the edges in a way that was... comforting.

I pulled off the mask. The gold had started digging into the bridge of my nose anyway. I exhaled, pressing the cold crystal against my flushed skin.

"You’re staring," I muttered, not looking at him. "Keep it up and I’ll take that fancy glass and gouge your eyes out."

A pause. Then, that low, aggravating chuckle.

"I’m actually plotting."

I turned to look at him then, slow and measured. He was still leaning against the balcony, deceptively relaxed. Towering. Built like a sin I hadn’t confessed yet. Not as broad or sharp as Kael, but there was something about the way he held his body, like even the air bent around him. The kind of chaos that comes smiling.

My mind, uninvited and traitorous, slipped back to Kael. His lips on mine. That damn look in his eyes when he said he missed me. I flushed, the memory slamming into me like a punch to the gut.

And Sylas noticed.

"Whoa," he said, eyes dancing. "That drink’s working fast. You’re turning red."

"It’s not the drink," I snapped, fidgeting with my glass.

His smirk sharpened. "Ah. Dirty thoughts, then?"

"You never shut up, do you?"

"Not when I’m winning."

God help me, I laughed. A real one. Sharp and ungraceful, bubbling up before I could stop it. He looked stupidly pleased with himself.

I turned toward him again, gaze skimming over his face, or what I could see of it. "You know," I muttered, tilting my head, "Asides the tabloids, I haven’t actually seen what you look like. Not properly. Not that night, not tonight."

His eyes gleamed with something wicked. "So you’ve been thinking about me?"

"I was just wondering if you’re as annoying in real life as you are with a mask on."

"Ouch." He clutched his chest mockingly. "That hurt, sad girl."

"Don’t call me that."

"You liked it when I did the first time."

"You were dragging me out of the ocean. I wasn’t in the mood to argue."

He chuckled again, then reached for his mask, fingers slow like he was peeling off something sacred. The gold clattered softly against the marble railing as he let it fall.

And I froze.

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