“Nora?” Claude’s voice comes through the door. “May I come in?”
“N-not right now, Claude,” I say, my voice thick with tears.
There’s a long pause. Then, “Please?”
I wipe my face with the sleeve of my hoodie. “…Okay,” I say, in such a small voice I’m not sure if he’ll hear, or if I want him to.
But of course he does, with his vampire senses. He probably heard me crying from across the house too. And a moment later, he’s pushing through the door, approaching the bed where I sit in a miserable, tear-stained lump.
I must look awful, my face blotchy and eyes swollen. But Claude’s face is tender as he sits on the edge of the bed. He reaches for me, but hesitates, his hand falling to the comforter between us.
“I know you asked me not to touch you,” he says. “But…”
I throw myself onto his lap before I can second-guess the instinct. My arms around his neck, my face buried in his chest. He holds me close and rubs circles on my back, murmuring soothing words. I feel horrible for taking comfort in touch when I was the one who asked him to stop, but I need it right now.
“Talk to me,mon chou,” he murmurs. “What’s wrong?”
It takes a while until I’m able to speak. But when I do, it comes as an outpour. I cry about everything: my mother and the way she always loved her art more than me, my childhood where I was forced to learn to take care of her instead of the other way around, the years she seemed to forget my existence, that goddamn phone call and what an idiot I was for thinking she actually cared.
“She’s theimbécilefor not seeing your worth,” he says, stroking my hair. “Her failure to be a mother is not your fault.”
I pull away, sniffling and wiping at my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t be dumping this on you.”
“Why not?” he asks. “I want to listen. I want to be here for you, Nora.”
“But you have real things to worry about,” I say. “Ambrose and the court… My problems are stupid. I should be able to deal with them.”
“Your problems are no less real than mine.” He cups my face as I try to turn away. “Nora. If they matter to you, then they matter to me. They’re not stupid.”
Our eyes meet. His gaze is so soft I can hardly stand it, his hand still on my cheek, his mouth so full and inviting.
I press my face into his shoulder again so I won’t give in to temptation. My hand fists in his shirt. The texture is odd, stiff, and when I pull back and look at it, I see drying splatters of color.
“Were you painting?” I ask.
“Making an attempt. I thought… I might as well try.” His lips twitch in a half-hearted smile. “Lord Ambrose was right, in a way. Dangling the contract over my headwasenough to get me to try again, after all these years.”
“I’m sorry.” I wipe my face again, freshly annoyed at myself. “I interrupted. You didn’t have to drop everything and come, I would’ve been fine—”
“No. I’m glad I did. It doesn’t matter.” He shakes his head, that fragile smile fading. “You make me happier than I’ve been in a very long time. But I still can’t do it. I’m starting to think that that part of me is… is well and truly dead.”
My heart seizes. I try to brush my tears away, but they won’t stop coming. “I’m sorry,” I whisper again. “I should’ve been checking on you instead of making it about me—”
“Nora, stop that at once.” He pulls me close and presses a fleeting kiss to my forehead. “Your feelings matter.” His lips brush my nose, barely there before they’re gone. “They matter to me.” The corner of my mouth next, while I stay perfectly still. “You matter to me.” He hovers just in front of me, so close. Dangerously close. “More than painting. More than the contract.”
My voice is hoarse and barely audible. “Yourlifeis staked on that contract.”
“More than that, too.” When I speak, I catch a glimpse of fangs. His eyes are on my mouth, too. “Tell me to kiss you and I’ll do it. I don’t care what they do to me.”
I have to shut my eyes to clear my head. Force myself to think of the contract, the stakes. “No,” I say. “I’m sorry, I want to, but we can’t.” I shake my head and pull away from him, even though it hurts to put space between us. “Thank you for being here. But… this is exactly why you need to keep your distance.”
It’s for my sake as well. Because right now, I want nothing more than to seek comfort from him. I want to be held, to be kissed. I want him to spend the night with his body wrapped around mine, making me feel less alone.
But instead, after a brief goodbye, I curl up in my sheets by myself.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
After a sluggish night and a day of fitful sleep, I wake again to a phone notification, though this one is far more welcome: a video call from Sophie and Elaine.
