I listened, searching the darkness that contained his eyes . . . but I didn’t hear anything.

But then the mantel clock resumed its quiet ticking.

He pressed a hand to my spine. Then, gently, he guided me back into the parlor. Once more, he parted from me, pointing to where the unmarred onyx clock sat on the mantel. The books and table had righted themselves once more, too.

But . . . I didn’t get it. He wasn’t showing me anything new.

“The house resets itself,” I said. “Nothing changes.”

“And why is that?” he asked.

“Because of the curse.”

“Because that is the house’s nature,” he corrected.

I frowned at him—at the way the change had overtaken him. No longer was I in the presence of a monster. There was no creature here. Just . . . Erik.

Could a rose truly be responsible for this significant of a shift?

In implanting it, what had I done? What had I really done?

“Are . . . are you saying that you won’t release me because it’s not in your nature?”

“I am saying that I cannot release you,” he said as he strode away from me, back in the direction of the fireplace. “The curse. It renders me incapable.”

“But . . .” I began, telling myself to tread carefully here—and ignore my knee-jerk need to argue. “You want to?”

“More than anything I have never wanted.”

“Don’t make jokes.”

He hung his head, bracing a gloved hand on the mantel. “I haven’t breathed in nearly a century,” he went on to say, “and yet you have become as air to me. How could I joke about such a thing?”

I was glad he’d turned his back to me, because the flush had returned to burn my cheeks.

“For over a hundred years my world has remained shrouded in shadow and snow,” he said. “Then you appeared. I have never wanted to keep you against your will. Valor’s efforts, I hope, proved that to you. But, more deeply than that . . . I admit I have never wanted you to depart. That is truly why you are here now.”

He glanced over his shoulder at where I stood stiffly on the oriental carpet, my eyes wide, ears burning along with my face. What could I say to that? Wrath might never have lied, but he’d certainly never been this honest, either.

“You’ll remember I attempted to rescue and steal you all in one night,” he said through an ironic and humorless laugh. “But you don’t know the most disturbing part . . .”

What could be more disturbing than the contradictory statement he’d just uttered?

“Wrath. The whole reasons he made plans to abduct you was because he knew of Valor’s plan to—” He stopped himself there. “Well, to get you to leave.”

I frowned at him, sure he’d almost said something else.

“It’s true this heart makes me whole enough to set you free,” he said, plowing on. “Yet the threat of your departure stands only to rupture it anew. And so we are gridlocked. For so long as the curse binds me to this world, I will stop at nothing to keep you. You must already understand my volatility. Or you would not have made that bargain with me.”