“Fine,” Luca admits. “Gnaw was the better word choice, but my point stands. I might accidentally kill him if he gets to sleep every night in your bed while I keep watch from the floor.”
Rolling my eyes, I shove him playfully. “You’re not going to be on the floor.”
“Celine,” he sighs. “You’re deliberately missing the point. I don’t want to be your dirty little secret while Alistair gets you out in the open.”
And I don’t want to paint a bigger target on your back if it gets back to my dad’s assassins.I should tell Luca the truth, but something stops me, and instead I say, “But secrets are hot.”
Luca stills, his face blanking as he looks at me. I sense mymisstep, but it’s too late to take it back. “You know what, it’s fine,” he mumbles. “Don’t worry about it.”
I reach for him, but he steps back. “Hey, I didn’t mean?—”
“No, you’re right: secrets are hot. Where should I put my bag?”
Luca goes into my spare room without waiting on a response. I throw my head back and scream silently up at the ceiling. It’s been all of five minutes, and I’m already fucking this up.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Enclave Edict #12:
Never expose the supernatural community to human scrutiny.
CIPRIAN
I zip my suitcase with difficulty as the prehistoric window unit wheezes and coughs behind me. Calling it an air conditioner is too generous. It sounds like an old man with a head cold. The ancient appliance can’t get to me today, though. Neither can the shitty water pressure.
Torn between worry for Sheena and absolute amazement that my crazy plan worked, I’m far too amped to be distracted by minor inconveniences. Hoisting my suitcase off the bed, I lock the apartment behind me even though there’s not a damn thing left here worth stealing.
This is the best chance I’ve had to uncover what happened to Roscoe. Dad would piss himself with excitement if he knew . . . so I’m not sure why I kept it from him. When I checked in afterLuca dropped me off at my car, I lied and told Dad there were no updates. He lectured me for ten minutes, and I never came clean.
My stomach roils, anxiety pitching around in there. I frown, throw my suitcase in the backseat, and slam the car door harder than necessary. I’ve been telling a lot of lies lately. It’s starting to get to me. Hiding who I really am from Celine is a necessary evil.
But if she knew the truth, she might understand.
There’s another lie.
Thrumming my fingers on the steering wheel, I load the address Luca gave me into my navigation system and pull out. Celine’s apartment isn’t far—only a few blocks. Squinting, I ease my car past a red curb that could use a fresh coat of paint and parallel park in the only remaining space. Celine’s bike is parked further down, making me pretty confident this is the right place.
Grabbing my suitcase from the backseat, I jog up the stairs, double check the number, then knock on the door and wait.
I have no reason to be guilty. Secrets are more common than slot machines around here. I’m positioning myself in Celine’s home under false pretenses, but I’m not going to slit her throat. I have a job to do. That’s it. Returning to the compound with another fuckup under my belt . . . I can’t do it.
My heart beats a little quicker as I hear footsteps approaching. Then the door swings open and Celine’s face is looking up at me.
“Hey, roomie,” I say, grinning to hide my nervousness.
She shakes her head and holds the door open slightly to usher me in. “Behave,” she warns.
“Me?” I sketch an imaginary circle over my head in a halo motion. “I’m always behaving.”
“Behaving like what exactly?” She closes the door behind me, and I smile. Celine is quick with her comebacks. I respect that. And her home... I whistle as take in the neat apartment, with its careful organization and cool, inviting tones. She plants her hands on her hips and stares at me expectantly.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing, I’m waiting for the joke.”
“What joke?” Does she think I can’t be serious? I’m not sure why that feels especially awful today. She wouldn’t be the first.
“The one about how angels are uptight.”
