Parent's Visit: Part V

Annabella woke up sore.

She sat up slowly, wincing as the dull ache settled deep in her body. A reminder of last night. A reminder of Rea.

Turning her head, she found the culprit still asleep, her face relaxed, almost innocent. Nothing like the beast that had ravaged her the night before.

Her fingers curled into the sheets.

Had she really been unwilling? The screams, the moans, the way her body had welcomed Rea— all of it pointed to pleasure. But her heart ached, twisting painfully at the realization that Rea had let herself be blinded by lust at such an intimate moment.

Annabella shook the thought away as she climbed out of bed, careful not to wake Rea. A knock on the door made her tense—it was the servants, arriving as expected to help her prepare for the day.

She pulled on a robe, making sure to hide the bruises marring her wrists and the faint marks trailing down her neck.

When she opened the door, her servant bowed deeply. "I hope you slept well, my lady. It is time for your bath. I would like to assist you this morning."

Annabella shifted, her grip tightening on the fabric of her robe. "I will take care of this myself."

The servant hesitated. "I insist. You have been gone for so long. You shouldn't have to do anything alone. I am here now. Let me assist."

Annabella's voice turned cold. "It has indeed been a long time. But I managed to care for myself then, and I can still do it now. That is my decision."

A flicker of suspicion crossed the servant's face before she bowed and stepped back. 

Annabella shut the door, exhaling sharply before heading to the bathroom.

The water was warm, but the moment it touched her skin, she flinched. As she ran her hands over her body, the events of the night before came rushing back— 

The way Rea had kissed her. The way she had whispered against her skin.

The way she had looked at her, eyes burning with love, longing… hunger.

A small, involuntary smile curled at her lips.

Then she remembered the second half.

The shift. The possessiveness.

The desperation.

Her grip tightened on her wrist, fingers pressing into the bruised flesh.

"Stupid… I told her to stop…" she whispered, curling into herself in the tub.

She didn't even know what she was feeling. She was angry. She was humiliated. And yet, her body…

A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. Her servant brought her morning tea, still trying to steal a glance at the state of her room.

Annabella got rid of her swiftly, instead settling by the window with her book. She stole a glance at Rea, still curled up in bed, arms wrapped around the pillow in a way that made something in her chest tighten.

She looked so peaceful. So soft.

For a brief, fleeting second, it almost felt like they were…

Married.

Annabella bit her lip and shoved the thought away.

Rea stirred, her brow furrowing slightly before her eyes fluttered open. She looked around blearily before her gaze landed on Annabella.

A lazy, satisfied smirk tugged at her lips.

"Morning, sunshine."

Annabella didn't return the smile. Instead, she placed her teacup down carefully and said, voice clipped and cold, "Awake at last."

Rea arched a brow, sitting up, stretching. "Happy to see you too. What's got you so grumpy? Was the sex that bad?"

Annabella's head snapped up, fury flashing in her eyes. She stood abruptly, grabbing Rea's clothes and throwing them at her.

"Just leave, Rea. The same way you came in."

Rea caught the fabric, blinking at her in confusion. "What?"

Annabella turned away, arms wrapped around herself. "I can't do this with you right now."

Rea swung her legs over the bed, pulling on her undergarments. "Why are you so mad?" Her voice was softer now, cautious. "What did I do?"

Annabella's shoulders tensed.

She placed her hands on the table, fingers pressing into the wood. Then, in a voice that wavered between anger and something far more fragile, she said, "You did the most vile things to me last night, and you dare not even remember?"

Rea frowned. "Vile?"

She took a step forward, but Annabella lifted a hand, stopping her in her tracks.

That's when Rea noticed the bruises on her wrists.

A sharp, cold silence settled between them.

Rea exhaled sharply, her throat tightening.

Her eyes flickered between Annabella's wrists, her exposed collarbone, the faint bite marks trailing down her delicate skin.

Evidence.

Evidence of how she had lost herself in Annabella.

Evidence that she had hurt her.

Guilt slammed into her like a blow to the gut.

"Did I do this to you?" she whispered.

Annabella's fingers curled against her own arms. She nodded. "And far worse."

Rea grabbed the sheet, breath coming fast. She then whispered a spell— the assassin's breath.

She needed to see it. All of it.

The memory hit her like a tidal wave.

The way she had kissed Annabella. The way she had touched her, possessed her, devoured her.

The way Annabella had screamed her name, begged, pleaded—

And then the moment when it shifted.

The moment when her hunger had turned into something darker.

Rea's body shook as she came back to the present.

She pressed her palm over her mouth, a choked sound escaping.

"Gods…" she breathed, horror twisting her insides. "I… I don't… I couldn't have—"

Annabella's bitter laugh cut through her.

"No, Rea." Her voice was like ice. "That was exactly who you are."

Rea looked up at her, eyes wide, chest tight with something unbearable.

Her voice lowered then, filled with something dark, something that made Rea's stomach clench. "Tell me the truth."

She stepped closer, gaze burning.

"Would you do it again?"

Rea's breath caught.

Her instincts screamed no. To deny it. To swear that she would never, ever lose control like that again.

But the truth sat heavy in her gut.

Because she still ached for Annabella. Even now, with guilt eating her alive, with fear twisting her insides, the thought of last night sent a deep, wicked shiver down her spine.

She clenched her fists, trying to smother the lingering heat curling in her belly. Trying to ignore the way Annabella's anger, her presence, only made the hunger worse.

Lying would be easy.

But Annabella would see through it.

So she swallowed hard, exhaling shakily. "I… I don't know."

Annabella's lips parted slightly, her breath hitching—whether in anger or something else, Rea couldn't tell.

But the hurt in her eyes was unmistakable.

She was already dressed, already standing by the door. The rational part of her told her to leave—to walk away before she ruined this any further.

She wouldn't.

Not after seeing the look in Annabella's eyes.

Not after feeling her beneath her last night—how she had trembled, how she had moaned for her, how her body had sung with need.

And not after waking up to the cold distance between them.

To the bruises 

To the way Annabella wouldn't even look at her.

The air between them was suffocating, thick with something unspoken, something tangled between longing and anger.

Rea clenched her fists. She had to fix this.

"Annabella." Her voice was quieter than she meant for it to be.

Annabella didn't respond. She just sat there in her robe, looking anywhere but at Rea.

Her bare legs were crossed, the faintest marks from last night still lingering on her smooth skin.

Rea swallowed hard. Her body betrayed her before she could stop it, before she could remind herself that she had no right to look at Annabella like that anymore.

Not after what she'd done.

Still, she moved closer.

"Anna," she tried again, softer this time. "Please... talk to me."

Annabella inhaled sharply, as if forcing herself to remain composed. Then, finally, she turned her head—just enough to glare at her.

And gods, that glare burned.

"You want to talk?" Annabella's voice was quiet, but laced with something dangerous. "Now? After everything?"

Rea exhaled, frustration and guilt tangling together. "I— I don't even know what to say. I just—"

"You should have stopped."

Rea's chest tightened. "I know."

Annabella's grip on the teacup in her lap tightened. "And yet you didn't."

Rea stepped forward, hesitating, then knelt beside her. "I wasn't myself."

Annabella laughed. It was cold. Bitter.

"That's what you're going with?" She finally turned fully to face her, eyes flashing. "You lost control? And I'm just supposed to accept that?"

Her voice was like a whip, each word laced with venom. But beneath that—beneath the anger—Rea could hear it.

Rea's hands twitched, aching to touch her. To reach her.

So she did.

Slowly, she reached for Annabella's hands, desperate for something—anything.

But the moment their fingers brushed—

Annabella flinched.

Rea's stomach dropped.

She pulled her hand back as Annabella exhaled sharply, her eyes glistening with something unshed.

Rea ached for her.

Ached to kiss the hurt away, to erase the damage she had done.

And the worst part?

She still wanted her.

Annabella swallowed, her throat bobbing. Her lips parted slightly, like she was about to say something, but she just shook her head.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper—

"Just go away, please."

Rea's heart splintered.

She wanted to argue. To fight. To prove that she was more than the animal Annabella had seen last night.

But the words died in her throat.

Because she had nothing.

No excuse.

Her heart was still pounding, her hands still shaking as she stepped out of Annabella's chamber, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Rea didn't look back.

She had failed.

Rea whispered the incantation under her breath, her fingers moving swiftly in the practiced motion of the Assassin's Stealth Mode spell. Her presence flickered. Shadows swallowed her form, as she moved, unseen.

But the head maid wasn't fooled.

She had been standing nearby, still suspicious after Annabella's cold refusal of her help that morning. When she spotted the faintest ripple in the air—**a disturbance, a wrongness—**her sharp eyes narrowed.

Her Lady's reluctance to let her in.The mysterious figure sneaking out.The bruises Annabella had tried to hide.

Foul play.

The maid's stomach turned. She spun on her heel, rushing through the corridors, her skirts billowing behind her as she went straight to the one person who could do something about it.

Harry Winstor.