If I could figure out why my mind won’t quiet, I could address it and sleep. But some instincts require decoding before they can be understood. Mine are screaming at me, telling me I’ve missed something, yet refusing to show me a clear picture.
Rolling onto my side, I study Celine and Luca in the darkness.Celine’s lips are parted, her chest rising and falling at a slow, measured pace.Safe. She’s safe.I focus on Luca next, noticing how thick and dark his eyelashes are. Beautiful. Both of them.
My fingers curl, and my eyes heat as blood collects behind them. Vision sharpened, I can see every dip and curve with perfect clarity despite the darkness. It doesn’t help me sleep. There’s a puffiness under Celine’s eyes, skin irritated by her tears. The bruising on Luca’s neck is yellowing around the edges.
I fight the urge to tug them closer. I should have protected them both better. When Celine and I made our deal, I promised her something casual. Fascinated by the both of them and envious of their dynamic, I meant itwholeheartedly at the time... I just didn’t realize how hard it would be to keep my word.
Vampires traditionally avoid attachments and keep to themselves. Frankly, I never expected to experience anything like the raw, possessive thirst that consumes me now. Yet here I am. Sleepless. Frenzied.
Celine and Luca would never again sleep soundly by my side if they knew how ferociously I desire them. To pursue them without restraint would be to lose them.
Celine especially isn’t ready. Listening to her shut down during Luca’s declaration proved it. My blood runs cold as I imagine her rejecting me. I tug the covers back over my leg. Dwelling is a waste of time, yet sleep refuses to come.
The sun rises behind the protection of the blackout shades.
My eyes are gritty and bloodshot.
Is it the family we placed the angels with in Valley of Fire? Maybe they aren’t what they seem. I replay our interactions ruthlessly. Nothing stands out.
Hours pass. Celine and Luca stir. I do my best not to resent them for their rest, ransacking every nook and cranny of my brain to explain my unease.
We get up after noon, and I tell no one about my sleeplessnight. My body feels like it’s moving through quicksand, my nerves ground down until even the slightest stimulation jolts their frayed ends.
By the time Luca and Celine head to the club, I’m more exposed nerve than man.
Ciprian tosses me a few penetrating looks, but doesn’t pry. Five minutes after sunset, he glances up from his phone and clears his throat. “I’m having a bad day too, you know. How about we go to the club and flirt with Luca until he kicks us out?”
I force a smile and nod. Dwelling at the club is better than dwelling here. At least at the Naked Fang, I’ll know they’re both okay.
“Off we pop,” I say, bracing my hands on my thighs.
Ciprian stands and smirks at me. “Has anyone ever told you that you sound British sometimes?”
I flinch internally. Gods, my lack of sleep really is taking a toll if it’s that noticeable.
“Nice catch,” I mutter. “My mum is English. Blood bluer than the aristocracy, although she would disagree due to these.” I tap my fangs. Technically, she considers what we are to be far more damning than a simple class demotion, but Ciprian doesn’t need to know that.
“That’s cool.” He opens the front door and steps out onto the landing. “My mom would love to be royal.”
I cock my head. There’s something there... in his tone. I can’t put my finger on it. A wry sort of amusement?
“Are you close to your family?” I ask, locking the apartment behind us and following Ciprian down the stairs. The street light shines on his face, bathing it in a sickly yellow glow. He scrubs his hand over his chin, but not before I see his frown.
“Gods, that’s kind of a loaded question. Mom would tell you yes, but she’s not interested in a real relationship.” He sighs, then chuckles. “Here I am rambling about my mommy issues while wehead to a strip club. Someone, somewhere, with a lot of letters after their name would have something to say about that.”
I grunt in response as I process his words, scanning the street, rooftops, and sky for winged assassins, before facing him. “Mothers can be complicated,” I admit.
Pain flickers across Ciprian’s face, only to be replaced a heartbeat later by the cocky smirk he wears so well. He changes the subject smoothly. If I wasn’t expecting it, I might not have noticed. And even though I’m fully aware he’s steering our conversation into less turbulent waters, his chattering soothes me.
Ciprian is charming in a way many people train for years to achieve and never reach. He would be a tremendous asset to my information network. If only I trusted him.
I pull in outside the club, but it takes a while to find a parking spot. “Must be busy tonight,” I say.
He mumbles something noncommittal, the first resurgence of his ‘bad day’ since he stopped talking about his mom. I remember him trembling on the bathroom floor last night and frown. I’m not sure flirting with Luca can fix whatever’s wrong with Ciprian.
We walk silently to the club, both monitoring our surroundings carefully. The door is only about ten feet away when someone shouts.
“Hey, Casanell!”
