Luca sighs, and I kiss the corner of his mouth and slide mylegs down until my feet are planted on the tile. “He’s a mystery to me,” I admit. “I can’t figure him out.”
“You don’t think he’s involved, do you?”
“With my father?” He nods, and I raise my eyebrows, consider the idea for a heartbeat, then shake my head. “No way. There’s no reality where Dad even talks to a demon.”
“Sounds like a stand-up guy.”
There’s a question in that statement. A warning that I’m going to have to tell Luca everything eventually if I want to keep him. The idea is about as appealing as dancing over broken glass barefoot. I walled my past off a long time ago—for good reason. Digging it out again will be excruciating. Thankfully, I don’t have to do it while hiding in Alistair’s bathroom as Ciprian lounges on the couch.
“Pizza is here,” Alistair calls out.
I grunt, sliding out of the clothes I left the club wearing, and step into the boxer briefs Alistair set out for me. I lift my head as Luca chuckles. “He’s surprisingly soft for a vampire with his reputation.”
When I look down, I see what he’s talking about and melt. The T-shirt and boxers are soft and comfortable, but he’s referencing the holes in the back of the shirt for my wings. Holes Alistair had to have just cut for me while recovering from an angel attack.
I pull the shirt over my head. Luca helps me adjust the material over my wings. By the time I leave the bathroom, my heart is racing.
These softer emotions put us all at risk. If I lose focus, someone could get hurt again. The weight of that settles heavily on my shoulders. I may not be alone right now, but that could change at any point. Mom’s face flickers through my mind against my will, and my wings sharpen before I can wall off the pain.
That’s all the warning I need.
TWENTY-SIX
Unspoken Rule of the Fringes #73:
There’s always someone with bigger teeth.
ALISTAIR
The bumps on the ceiling resemble the surface of a distant planet, billions of light-years away for humans or one mega-expensive portal rental for me. I try to imagine how life would be there, then catch my breath until the pain in my gut passes. It’s a cheap popcorn ceiling. No amount of imagination can change that.
I close my eyes, desperate for rest, but without the distraction of the bumps, the pain only gets worse. I haven’t hurt this badly since I was newly turned, picking fights with supernaturals who had far more magic, strength, and common sense than I did at the time. Luckily, I survived those fights, and I’ll survive this one too.
Lying in my bed with Celine’s hair draped across my spare pillow, I remember the fiery burn of the sword piercing my gut. That was followed by the creeping coldness that encased my whole body as my blood spilled on the ground.
My memory of the ambush is hazy. No matter how hard Iconcentrate, it’s like trying to get a good look at something sunk beneath several feet of water. The edges aren’t sharp, and the sounds are warbly and inconsistent—some faint, some loud enough to hurt my ears.
All I can recall with perfect clarity is the certainty that I was going to die. My thirty-second year would be my last. Within moments of the ambush, I had accepted it. The blood loss was too severe, even for me. I needed a miracle; I got a demon instead.
Ciprian saved my life and put his own at risk in the process, and I cannot figure out why. It’s maddening, nearly as maddening as how close my own carelessness came to causing my death.
I wonder if meeting my end by a stranger’s sword is something Mum would consider a natural cause. Not for a human, certainly, but murder is one of the most common ways a vampire dies. Perhaps if I get bored enough, I’ll ask her.
The attack made one thing perfectly clear: my obsession with Celine is dangerous. She awakens every monstrous instinct I’ve managed to keep silenced for years. A beam of sun on my skin, I long for her even as she burns me to ash. Even if I don’t survive her, I want her to be mine. I want that more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
Celine wears her strength like armor, but there are cracks. Moments of vulnerability. Spending time with her has shown them to me, turning what started as fascination into something more. Fixation, maybe. Possession, certainly.
Hot blood churns behind my eyes as I watch her sleep at my side, the curve of her cheeks, the way her fuller bottom lip hangs slightly open. There’s no denying she’s beautiful, but the groove between her arched brows is proof she’s not fully at ease.
Celine would be more comfortable if Luca and I turned our backs on her.
I hate that.
My nostrils flare and my vision tunnels as Iimagine leaving her to face the assassins alone.Calm down,I tell myself.She’s safe. She’s right here in your bed.Somehow, that makes it worse. My throat dries out, burning with rage and the unmistakable desire to drain her enemies dry. I’ll kill them all. Tear their throats wide open.
In her sleep, Celine reaches for me. I clasp her hand gently in mine, careful not to wake her, and press a barely there kiss to her knuckles. My rage goes from a roaring inferno to banked embers. I blink, startled by the emotional whiplash. Why am I having this reaction?
My belly spasms as something knits back together. Gritting my teeth, I close my eyes and wait for the agony to pass. Thanks to Ciprian’s blood, I’ll be back to full strength soon. No scars, no lingering issues—only a vivid memory of pain. I’ll carry that with me forever.
