“She, uh…” He clears his throat. “She really does look like Lark. Dove, I mean.”
I ignore the sudden throb under the scar on my chest.
“I didn't hear a question there,” I grunt.
Roman lifts his brows. “I mean…”
“No, Roman,” I growl. “I’m not marrying Dove Marchetti because she looks similar to an older version of my dead fiancée.”
His face crumples, his lips pulling tight. He sets a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Sorry, man. I wasn’t trying to?—”
“All good.” I smile as I bring him in for a hug, clapping him twice on the back before we pull apart.
“Had to ask,” he shrugs.
I grin. “I know. I was kinda waiting for it.”
“So, we’re good?”
“Always,” I nod, fist bumping him as he fishes his keys out of his pocket. “Hi to Val for me.”
We can leave it there. As much as I love my friend, neither he nor anyone else needs to know therealreason I’ve trapped my bird in a little cage.
12
DOVE
“Oh myGod,this place isadorable!”
I smile at Evelina's reaction to my place.
I sometimes hesitate to call the dancers I hang out with at ballet “friends”. At the risk of sounding cliched: it’s not them, it’s me. But Lyra, Naomi, Milena, Evelina, Brooklyn, and even Val—though I don’t usually do so well making guy friends—are great, andhavebecome good friends.
They’ve also been great during the jarring madness of my reality over the past week, even if it’s just been bynotasking about it, or adding their two cents.
Honestly, that’s priceless right now.
I don’t tend to have anyone over. Let me rephrase:noneof them has ever visited, except for Brooklyn a couple of times. I’ve never really shared anything about my background with her, but I know hers was pretty rocky. Maybe that’s why she and I click so well, and why I’ve felt fine bringing her into what the leaders of group therapy back atIl Refugiowould call my “safe space”.
But tonight, after rehearsal, when I found myself in the changing room with just Brooklyn and Evie, I decided to say fuck it and invite them both over.
…It mightpartlyhave something to do with the other night.
WithBane.
I feel a heated throb in my core as my mind replays everything that happened. How it started while I was asleep. How rough and dark he was. How insidiously alluring the vicious things he said to me were.
I’ve reminded myself since then how badly the deck is stacked. Bane’s gone through my computer. Heknowsall the dark, fucked-up stuff, sexually, that I'm into.
Somno, aka sleep sex. Dubcon and noncon. Pain mixed with pleasure.
Not that whatever the fuck is unfolding between us is agame. But if it is, it’s a one-sided, rigged one.
He’s read my playbook. He’s peeked through the blinds and seen me without my armor.
And all of thatmightbe partly why I’ve asked Brooklyn and Evelina over. It might also be why I’m asking them in a second if they feel like sleeping over.
It’s not that I’m scared of him coming back.
