"You're a master of manipulation," I commented honestly, my hairs standing erect on the back of my neck. My skin bristled with anxiety and my mind whirled with dozens of unpleasant, but startlingly real possibilities. "I should've known."
"That part of you still hasn't changed, Princess," Vincent's kind smile never faltered, and I found myself unable to look away from him. "Naïve...trusting. You are a slave to your own good will."
What he was saying was true. I wasn't about to contradict what he was saying; even if he would've been wrong, I wasn't stupid enough to challenge him. I may have been tiptoeing around death, but I wasn't asking for it.
"And you are a slave to your own malice," I could feel a fierceness burning behind my eyes. "You're taking your rage out on the wrong people."
