A bolt of pain shoots through my jaw, and I realize I’m clenching it way too tightly. I roll it around until the cramp stops. His words ring true, even without using my gift. “Anything else, wise one?”
“Yeah, don’t call me wise. It makes me feel old.” Ciprian grins, a hint of the playful, sarcastic demon peeking out at me.
Rolling my eyes, I flip him off, head down the hall, and say, “In case it wasn’t already clear to you, Luca and I are together.”
Ciprian snorts. “Please. I’ve known that since the first night I stepped into the Naked Fang. Do you also want to tell me the walls in here are a cool, verdant green while you’re at it? Because that’s the only thing more obvious.”
“It’s springtime viridescence, dick-for-brains,” I say, looking over my shoulder at him.
“Cool.” Ciprian glances at his phone, then back up at me. “Since you’ve finally quit hiding Luca like a bad bald spot, can I have the spare room?”
“No,” I say waspishly, then continue down the hall. My smile fades with each step.
Embrace the mess. Embrace the mess.I repeat Ciprian’s words in my mind like a battle cry, not quite sure I know how to put them into practice. Hand on the doorknob, I release my breath and twist the cool metal. I’m not a coward, and one thing is crystal clear to me: I owe Luca and Alistair an explanation.
THIRTY-THREE
Unspoken rule of the Fringes #194:
Sleep where you know the exits or don’t sleep at all.
ALISTAIR
They’re back. Ear pressed to the door, I eavesdrop without shame, ready to kill Ciprian if he steps even one toe out of line. After he gives her a cryptic pep talk, I’m surprised—then thrilled—to hear Celine claim Luca.
Through it all, Luca’s poker face doesn’t budge. He sits stiffly in the chair by the window, the lamp casting harsh shadows in the hollows beneath his cheekbones.
I jump back as the door swings open, trying to appear casual as Celine walks in and tosses her leather jacket on the bed. She stares at it, her wings twitching.
“It’s dark in here,” she mutters, glancing at me and cocking one eyebrow. “I know you’re deathly allergic to the sun, but I didn’t realize an overhead light could take you out.”
I cross the room in a flash, reaching around her toflip the light switch. “I was trying to convince Luca to nap before work. Neither of you got enough sleep last night.”
“Nothing a little caffeine can’t fix.” She smiles at me. It doesn’t reach her eyes.
Enough of this chitchat.It’s a waste of time.
“You bolted this morning,” I remind her. “We were worried.”
She looks between us calmly. “I never asked you to worry.”
“That’s bullshit,” Luca hisses, shoving to his feet. “We don’t need permission to care about your well-being. Are you telling me you wouldn’t give a damn if something happened to Imani? Because I know you would. Get it through your head, Celine—someone caring about you isn’t a threat!”
“Yes, it is!” she screams. “That’s exactly what it is. And the more you care about me, the bigger that threat becomes.”
They can use the word care all they want, but we all know what they really mean.
I hold my hand up before Luca respond. We won’t get anywhere if they let their anger do the talking. “And why is that, angel?” I soften my voice until it’s barely more than a whisper.
“Because people who care for me pay for it,” she says.
Her voice is devoid of emotion, but her wings give her away. Sharp as knives, the feathers begin to condensate—beads of water rolling down the edges before dripping onto the carpet.
For an instant, I’m transfixed by the sight. I’ve never seen her wings convey more than one emotion at a time, but they’re clearly showing stress and pain right now... even as Celine does her best to hide both.
Chest heaving, with his hair sticking out in all directions, Luca grunts and scoops Celine up. He carries her to the bathroom and sets her on the bathmat, throwing the shower curtain aside to let her wings drip directly into the tub.
“You’ll be upset if the carpet gets wet,” he says matter-of-factly.
