It’s a subtle but major difference from how I was raised. The enclave has seen its fair share of betrayal, don’t get me wrong. Just ask my dad about witches, then stand back and watch the vein in his forehead pulse, but information is usually readily available.
You’re a hypocrite, Ciprian Casanell.I silence my conscience as we leave Harry’s house.
The tension is so thick we may need an axe to cut through it. My shoulders clench, rising incrementally the longer the silence drags on. Luca’s quiet anger is an exact match for my family’s brand of rage. You would think I would be numb to it by now, but instead it’s like he’s pouring lemon juice in a paper cut.
“Luca,” Celine begins, her voice stiff.
“Not now,” he says. “You’ve made your feelings clear. We can discuss the break-in when we get back to your apartment.”
“But—”
“I said not now.” Luca doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t even look at us, but Celine flinches as if he slapped her.
I keep my mouth closed. Of all the things that aren’t my business in any way, shape, or form, this is at the top of the list.
Luca wrenches his car door open. The metal complains loudly about his rough treatment. Celine watches him drive away, thenheads for her bike, her wings flipping between so many settings that it’s clear her head is spinning.
I hesitate before holding her leather jacket out to her. In this mood, I’m not sure I’m brave enough to climb on the back of her bike.
She snatches it from me, lips pursed. Her wings shudder but don’t retract. She closes her eyes and tries again. This time, they don’t move at all, shifting instead to sharp-edged blades.
Is stress the cause? At first, I thought fear triggered the knives, but I can’t sense any of that from her. Besides a whiff here and there, fear isn’t an emotion Celine she seems to have much of.
“Is this a supernatural neighborhood?” I ask, glancing along the street at the small but well-kept urban block. There are no front yards, only a row of squatty entryway steps flanked by rusting cast-iron railings. A handful of pots with assorted drought-resistant plants litter the stoops.
“Yeah, why?” Celine snarls, glaring at me like the trouble with her wings is my fault.
I hide my smile, unbothered by her grumpiness. “Let’s take a walk,” I suggest.
Ignoring me, Celine rolls her eyes and then closes them again. Her fingers curl as she concentrates, but her wings, still in blade mode, remain stubbornly in place. I suspect they’re the only thing protecting me from a grisly death.
“Fine. Let’s go for a fucking walk.” She takes off down the street, each step echoing. With her hands balled against her thighs, her wings’ gentle, rolling bounce is comically at odds with the rest of her furious march.
Again, I keep my mouth firmly shut as I match her pace. The only way I’ll gain any ground with the beautiful angel is by letting her come to me. Hopefully, it won’t take long. I’m not a fan of uncomfortable silences.
THIRTY-TWO
Unspoken rule of the Fringes #3:
Tempers are deadly—make sure yours doesn’t get you killed.
CELINE
Ciprian strolls along at my side like there’s nothing inside his beautiful head but fluff. I don’t buy it for a second, but I’ve made too much of a mess on my own to focus on him.
My wings clink with every step. The annoying sound is proof that my emotions are out of control. And the horror reel playing in my head . . . it’s all too much. Waking up to my hand around Luca’s neck.Clink.His face falling in the bathroom when I didn’t tell him I love him.Clink.How he’d driven away without looking back.Clink.
I will my wings to disappear, then beg them when that doesn’t work.
Clink.
Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.
I know I messed up. I should have said something—anything. But Luca blindsided me. I had no space to process, no room to be alone. I had to get out. And damn him for making this harder than it has to be. He knows me. Knows I avoid attachment. There’s no way he thought telling me how he felt wouldn’t send me running.
My itch is all-consuming. Less warning, more torment. It hasn’t fully gone away in weeks; there’s too much going on.
I’m being hunted by my father’s legion of assassins while someone deposits kids around me as if I’ve been cursed by a celestial stork. To top it off, I’ve got a basilisk shifter swearing he loves me, a surly vampire embedding himself beneath my skin, and a tagalong demon who acts more like a puppy than the sinister being he really is.
