“Fuck,” I mutter, putting the makeup down and facing her. “Is that necessary?”
“Yes, because I don’t believe you’ll do it.”
“It’s almost impossible for me to lie,” I remind her.
“Which makes you an expert at not quite telling the complete fucking truth.”
“Fine,” I snap. “I swear on my honor as anish thatshathat if I need backup, I will let Imani know immediately. Now, can I tell you about my new roommates?”
“Oh, gods, yes.” Imani meets my eyes through the reflection in the mirror and grins. “I thought you’d never ask.”
I slump in my chair, then clear my throat. “I want to start by saying that absolutely none of this is my fault . . .”
I dance my first set absentmindedly. Unloading on Imani left me feeling like a freshly sharpened blade. While going over things prepared me to face them, it also brought the danger back to the front of my mind. My only comfort is her reluctant promise to keep her distance until this all settles down. If only Luca and Alistair would do the same.
The club is different tonight. The lights are the same, and the smells and sounds are all pretty standard too. I can’t put my finger on what’s off—except the eyes feel different on my skin . . . more sinister. I give the crowd another scan. It’s a mix of regulars and strangers. None of them stand out.You’re being paranoid.
Finishing my dance, I collect my top and the loose bills scattered around the stage, telling myself to chill out while I’m at it. Acting jittery is far more likely to put me at risk than going about my normal routine.
Dad wants me dead—but he won’t want a scene. Slaughtering a stripper under literal spotlights with dozens of onlookersstanding by is hardly discreet. That means I’m safe here, or as safe as I ever am in the Fringes.
I imagine his minions reporting to him about my chosen profession and grin. That vein in his temple would bulge ominously, followed by the narrowing of his gray eyes. My smile fades as I let the scene play out in my mind. Since he’s no longer in possession of his two favorite punching bags, Dad would find a servant to exorcise his anger on.
Familiar guilt swirls in my stomach. His actions are no one’s responsibility but his own. As always, that statement feels like a lie. After all this time, I can’t make myself believe it.You make me do this,he would shout.Discipline—once you learn discipline, these lessons will stop.Lies. I could sense that even then. He was lying to me. Lying to her. Lying to himself, too, I suspect.
Nerves tingling, I avoid weaving through the crowd after my set. I usually pick up good tips that way, but I can’t make myself do it tonight. Not while I see the crowd as nothing but a collection of clenched fists attached to dangerous strangers.
Backstage, I tie my top back into place, adjusting the cups of the lingerie until they sit perfectly over my breasts. The curtain wobbles slightly, then Luca steps into the tight space, a water bottle in his hand. He offers it to me without a word.
Luca’s kindness makes it harder to hold on to my composure. My eyes burn. Why won’t my stupid memories leave me alone?
“Who’s manning the bar?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even.
“It can man itself for a few minutes.”
I nod. “If you want a break, I can keep an eye on it. That’s no issue.”
“Breathe, baby.” Luca takes an exaggerated inhale, worry in his hazel eyes.
“I’m fine. I j-just—” I stutter, a lump swelling in my throat, thick and tight. It burns as if it’s wrapped in barbed wire, makingit hard to get the oxygen I need. I toss up my hands, at a loss for how to explain why I’m freaking out.
“Breathe,” Luca says again. “Take it one breath at a time.”
I match his every inhale, then drain the bottle in long, greedy chugs. Some of the water trickles from the corner of my mouth, and I wipe it away, cringing as I picture how messy I must look.
Luca takes the empty bottle from my hands, tosses it on the floor, then hauls me into his arms. His hold is tight—perfect. I sag against him, convinced he’ll hold us both up if I need him to. Another shaky breath brings me his familiar, comforting scent, and slowly, my panicked thoughts fade to the background where they belong.
Lifting my chin from his chest, I study Luca’s face. Concern for me is carved into every angle and curve. If my father catches even a whiff of what he means to me, I’ll lose him forever. That’s the reality we’re living in.
Gritting my teeth, I cradle Luca’s face in both hands. “You’ll be careful at all times; do you hear me? I can’t bear to... Be careful, Luca. Promise me.”
“I promise.” The words have barely left his lips before I’m kissing them, hungry and frantic. I should drive him away to keep him safe, but I can’t. I’m too selfish, too weak. I lack the discipline to do this alone.
“Celine,” he groans, then pulls back to glance at the thin black curtain blocking the crowd’s view of our position. “I don’t want to hide. I want Ciprian to know you’re mine. I want all those horny bottom feeders out there to know it too.”
I open my mouth to give him a valid excuse. It’s more dangerous. It makes the target on his back twice as big. Then I focus less on what I’m going to say next and more on what Luca is saying without words: there’s hurt behind his eyes.
“Is this because your basilisk wants ownership or somethingelse?” I ask. “Because if you’re feeling territorial, you can deal with it.”
