Between Wrath and Mercy (The Divine Between, #1)

by Jess Wisecup

“Lady Emmeline, stand up. You’ve never once knelt before me—why start now?”

“Over my dead body will another Beloved’s death be on my conscience, Emmeline. Nor your own.”

His expression held the same tenderness it always had, and the sight of it closed a fist around my heart and squeezed.

“Did you kill the men who did this to you?” His voice was low and quiet, not quite soft, but less harsh than before. “Yes.” I swallowed. I had no choice. “You did them a kindness they did not deserve.”

How could I love a man I was forced into a marriage with days after I buried my sister? How could I love a man I ran from? That had allowed his father to get away with what he did to me?

There was no point in denying the attraction was still there. But it had always been more than just attraction for me. It was why I knew this was dangerous. Everything about being around him was dangerous for my heart, but what choice did I have?

“We are going to find her. And then I’m going to kill your husband.” The voice belonged to the Bloody Prince, but his soft expression belonged to Rainier. It belonged to Rain. My Rain.

“I promise, Em, I’m with you on this. Until the end.”

If I’m Aonara’s favored, you’re Hanwen’s. No one would ever cross you if they knew the wrath you’d bring upon them.

“Maybe none of us thought we had choices back then. But we were wrong. We did. We had choices, and we still do.” The violent flicker in his eyes had gone out, replaced by sadness which matched mine. Still do.

“Don’t thank me. Just keep calling me that.” He turned forward, and I noticed him swallow.

“No, that’s the thing Em. I—I didn’t hear you screaming. I know this sounds crazy, and I know it’s impossible, but I’ve re-lived it for years—awake and in my dreams. I could hear your heartbeat. I followed it to find you.” “That’s impossible,” I whispered. “I know it is. But I found you, didn’t I?” I nodded. He did. And now, I’d found him.

“Well, Highclere, the next time you want me to be quiet and kiss you, just tell me. I’ll even bite your neck if you want.”

It had to be an omen: the one time I’d felt anything close to desire in all these years, and I’d nearly died because of it.

“You just came back to me, and we’ve barely had a chance to talk. You can’t die yet.”

“The only mistake I made was you. Breaking the wards with you, betraying my sister in her final moments with you, all of it. I will regret that until the day I die, but not the decisions I made after. You didn’t choose me. It sounds an awful lot like you’re the one who feels they made a mistake, not me.”

I’d just been yelling at Lavenia about him, but here I was getting butterflies in my stomach from the man. Pathetic. I do not want him. I do not want him.

I was so used to handling everything myself, the act of someone caring for me felt intimate beyond comparison.

I wondered why his rifting always seemed to act out for him when I stood to lose the most from its failure.

“I’ve been wrong this whole time.” He whispered it against my brow, and I kept still. “About what?” “The blue. I’d imagined the Mahowin Sea all along.” I started to pull away, confused, but he circled me in his strong arms and pulled me close. “Your eyes. The Mahowin Sea doesn’t do them justice.”

“She knows, dear heart.” He pulled me closer and kissed my temple. “She knows.”

From our betrothal until her death, I was burdened with the expectation we would fix everything. That we were both bound by duty to be the answer.”

“And I decided long before that night that I didn’t want to do my duty anymore if it didn’t involve you.”

“And a small, sick, disgusting part of me felt relief when she died because of what it could mean for us. And even though I immediately banished the thought, I don’t know if I’ve ever forgiven myself for it. What kind of person finds a fragment of relief in their friend’s death? Not just my friend, but your sister. I felt so fucking guilty for that fleeting thought, for dropping the wards, for almost gods damn killing you, for everything.

“Part of me was angry about how I felt about you, really. I didn’t want to want you. Shit, Em, I still don’t want to want you. I hate the loss of control, and it’s all I ever feel with you.”

He didn’t want to want me because I wasn’t what he dreamed of for himself. He still didn’t want that for himself. So, none of this mattered.

But understanding and acceptance were two different things. I understood, but I couldn’t accept that he’d let me beg—when I was so broken and unmoored—and he’d left me stranded on my own. The fact he thought it was a mistake meant little in the grand scheme of things.

I didn’t know why, but my confusion and grasping had turned into something different. I was angry. Angry at my sister for keeping secrets. Angry at her for being dead, so I couldn’t yell at her. Angry I’d been so hard on myself for so long. Just…angry.

“I’ve spent too much time imagining you like this. I’ll take what you give me, Em.”

His lips on my skin had haunted me as much as everything else.

When he gripped my hips with his warm, steady hands, I thought maybe I could forgive him. Forgive us for the mistakes we made when our hearts were sore and young. He was here in front of me, offering the urgent passion I’d always wanted, and I didn’t think I was strong enough to say no.

Rainier was life and need and so enmeshed in who I was there was no mistaking him.

“Do you still hate me, Emmeline?”

Part of me hated him for doing this to me again. For making me want to give him a part of me, with no plans for a future.

This was sin and insanity and freedom wrapped into one. Every touch, every caress, was an erasure of the past which corrupted and destroyed.

His lips were so soft and having them on me was a dream—a memory and prediction in one.

“Seeing her everyday hurts because it’s a reminder of exactly who she isn’t.” He gestured back to the house. “But we can’t lose her too, Ven.”

Maybe she thought she had more time. We all thought there was more time.

“It has been, is, and will always be you. And fuck, if that hasn’t complicated my life enough already.”

“Kingdoms and years and utter devastation.” “What does that even mean?” I pushed him back to look at his face. “It means I’ll wait.”

“You don’t have to worry, Emma. You both burn for each other.”

I wished it were me instead of her once again, but this time because I knew she wouldn’t have wasted my gift as I’d wasted hers.

I could feel the faint thrum of my divinity, which normally I only felt if I reached for, and I wondered if it was my soul’s way of telling me this kiss was right.

“Listen to my heart, Em.”

“Friendship?” He laughed, dark and bitter. “Your skin tastes like spring, and your sighs are a gods damn song. I’m not your fucking friend.”

“Don’t you get tired of it?” The edge to his voice was so clear I could practically see the sharp glint on his lips. “Tired of what?” The whisper held the weight of the question. I was exhausted. “Running.” His lip curled up in disgust. I could hear the rumble in his voice echo in the earth below us, threatening to swallow me whole. “The second you have a single, fucking doubt about anything, Emmeline, you run. You never give me a gods damn chance. You don’t even try.”

Ooooooooffff

“I don’t think I’ll ever figure you out, Emmeline Highclere.” “No,” I agreed. “But if you do, let me know. We could compare notes.”

I’d lived for so long without him that now I’d gotten a taste? I wanted more than scraps. I wanted everything.

“I do feel,” I stopped speaking and smiled down at him, feeling the mischievous grin spread on my face. “But now I want to taste.” He exhaled a sharp breath as I pulled away from him, kissing down his body with a confidence I didn’t know I was capable of.

“You won’t hurt me.” At least, I didn’t think he would. “I want you undone.” “I already am, Em. Every day since you came back to me.”