Matthias stared down at her, his dark eyes widening in absolute, bewildered disbelief. The silence stretched between them, thin, brittle, and freezing.
"Do you even comprehend what you are saying, Lady Talia?" he demanded, his voice dropping into a harsh, stunned whisper that barely scraped past his throat.
Talia abruptly turned her face away, refusing to meet his fracturing gaze. She stared blankly at the moonlit wall, her jaw set into a cold, aristocratic line. "I am entirely aware of what I am saying."
"Listen to me," Matthias hissed, his knuckles tightening on her shoulders until the fabric of her costly gown crinkled beneath his iron grip. "Just because you have lost your ability to walk, just because you are forced to live in the shadows of my estate, it does not mean you can use me as your executioner! If you are weary of your existence, do not drag me into your pathetic desire for death."
