“It’s lined up,” Ciprian says. He runs his fingertips back over the skin, careful not to put any pressure on the bone, and nods with satisfaction when it stays put. “Shifter healing should take care of the rest.”
He’s awfully confident about that for a demon. I tilt my head, wondering why he knows so much about shifter abilities.
“You okay?” Alistair asks. He kisses my neck with a feather-soft touch that makes me shudder, and I forget all about the puzzle that is Ciprian.
My collarbone still hurts—really damn bad, if I’m being honest—but the dull throb is manageable. I force a grin. It feels more like I’m baring my teeth. “I’ll survive,” I say. Glancing at Ciprian, I give him a nod. “Thanks for poking it back in.”
He winks at me, charcoal sweatpants riding low on his hips. “I’m happy to ‘poke it back in’ any time you want.” Ciprian leans against the wall and turns his mischievous gaze on Alistair. “I expected you to do a dance or tell him a joke, not leave half a dozen hickeys on his neck, but I do enjoy a surprise.”
“Alistair,” I hiss, bringing my hand up to my neck and poking the side he was sucking on. It’s tender to the touch. What was he thinking marking me up this way?
He throws up his hands. “Give me a break! I woke up to Celine pinning you to the wall like a butterfly, then got asked to set a bone.” He turns his glare on Ciprian. “And you demanded a distraction and gave me no time to think—I had to improvise.”
Ciprian claps his hands on Alistair’s shoulders, his face deadly serious. “If you’re going to explore impact play, you need to be ready for the consequences. Kink without careful preparation is dangerous.”
I laugh out loud as the expression on Alistair’s face warps from outrage to complete and absolute shock. “We weren’t. It was...” Alistair stutters, then knocks Ciprian’s hands off his shoulders. “You’re absolutely ridiculous. How can anyone take you seriously?”
Ciprian stiffens, his easy smile vanishing. “Don’t make any sudden moves today,” he says to me, ignoring Alistair. “It’ll take a few days for it to heal completely.”
I nod, wondering again how he knows that, then find myself more distracted by the rigid way he walks off. Ciprian just set my bone and left without asking why Celine broke it in the first place. Either he’s the least curious person in the Fringes, or getting away from us was more important.
The water in the shower turns off.
“You can’t go to Harry’s,” I say, focusing on Alistair.
He nods, running his fingers through his hair. “I know. Send updates and let Harry know I’ll be by after sundown to check on her.”
I overlook his demanding tone, knowing the stressful wake-up call has him on edge. It can’t be easy, knowing there’s shit going on but being unable to leave until dark.
“We need somewhere to take the overflow kids,” I say. “Harry doesn’t have enough room.”
Alistair nods, standing a little taller and rolling his shoulders back. “I’ll make some calls.”
I dip my head toward the bedroom. “There’s no reason to mentionthis.” I point to my collarbone. “It was an accident, and I want her alert.”
Alistair agrees, and I duck into the guest room to grab a change of clothes and my toothbrush. When I get back to Celine’s room, the bathroom door is standing open, steam drifting out.
I walk inside, shut the door behind me, then curse silently. Alistair is in the shower, which is fine. But Celine—fuck—Celine is sitting on the closed toilet, staring blankly at the wall. Her wings are dripping water all over the tiled floor.
Before I make a conscious decision, I’m on my knees at her feet. Carefully, I take her balled-up hands in mine. “Talk to me,” I urge.
Her eyes meet mine reluctantly. In comparison to her wings, they’re almost painfully dry.
“Why won’t he let me go?” she asks.
“Your father?”
Celine nods. “When I hit you, I was dreaming about—” She pushes to her feet. “You know what? It doesn’t matter.”
I stay in my hunched position, looking up at her. “That’s bullshit. If you’re flooding the bathroom because of it, your dream matters a lot.”
Celine stares at the wall over my head. “Dad wasn’t a safe person to be around,” she whispers. “He used his fists to prove points.”
Anger hums low in my stomach. I hate the haunted shadow in Celine’s eyes, and the drips falling from her drooping wings? They’re unacceptable. I prefer her fire, even when it burns everything in her path . . . including me.
I could tell her I’m sorry. I could promise to kill him for her. Neither feels right, so I remain crouched where I am, silently listening, afraid to interrupt and make things worse.
“As soon as she—I mean, as soon as I could, I left. Faked mydeath and used an illegal portal with the tracking magic disabled to get off realm. It’s been years; I thought he’d forgotten. But no, he won’t be satisfied until he’s taken everything in the universe that brings me happiness. Don’t you see? He can’t win unless I lose, so he’ll keep trying. It’s his own sick, twisted form of balance.”
