Chapter Thirty-Two
In the back of the car, Claude fusses over my bruises, though he’s the one with a still-broken hand. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he says, pain in his eyes, like the wounds hurt him more than they hurt me. He brushes his lips over the circle of bruises on my wrist, so gentle I don’t even feel it.
“It seemed almost like you wanted it to happen,” I rasp. He was so ready to duel. Eager for it, almost.
Claude shakes his head. “I…” He grimaces. “If only I could have just painted, maybe it could have been avoided. But… I was ready for a duel, it’s true,” he admits. “Yet not for you to be harmed. Never that. It could’ve gone so much more badly, Nora.”
“I’m a valentine. I’m protected by the contract.” I touch his cheek. “So I wanted to protect you. But…” My lower lip wobbles as I think, again, of how badly this all backfired. “I didn’t think you’d challenge him like this, Claude. My intent was tostopyou from getting hurt. I didn’t want… this.”
He smiles, brushing away my tears with the thumb of his good hand. “It’s been a long time coming,mon chou. You can’t take responsibility.” His expression sobers. “And he hurt you. I can’t forgive that.” A gentle palm cups my cheek. “Tell me… has he done anything like that before?”
With his hand caressing me, I can’t turn away even if I wanted to. “Once,” I admit. “When you weren’t home, he hit me.”
Claude’s expression darkens into something dangerous. “You should’ve told me.”
I study his face. “He’s hurt you like that before, too,” I say, not even bothering to make it a question. His gaze slides away from mine, and I sigh. “You should’ve toldme.”
“There’s nothing you could’ve done,” he says. “I didn’t want to burden you.”
His hand slides from my cheek, but I reach to grasp it, twining our fingers.
“I think we both need to stop thinking of ourselves that way,” I say. “We can both rely on each other without being burdens.”
We sit with that in silence for a moment, but as seconds tick by, I realize how precious they are. How little time we have.
“Claude, tell me…” I hesitate, unable to fully form the question. “He’s your sire. Is it possible for you to beat him?” Tonight I saw him defy Ambrose’s commands, but it’s obvious how difficult it was. In a duel, there will be no time for that. A second’s hesitation could mean death.
“Would I have challenged him if it weren’t?”
“To save me? Yes.” I don’t understand his riddles or his smiles. How can he take this so lightly? Is this some sort of self-sacrifice?
“Mm,” he agrees. “Sometimes I forget how well you know me.” He leans in, presses his forehead to mine. “Will you kiss me? For luck?”
“But the contract…”
“Fuck the contract,” he says, still smiling. “Soon enough it won’t matter.”
My stomach twists as I study him. That gleam in his eye, is it confidence or a manic sort of resignation to whatever’s going tohappen? It scares me, and so do his words. “Then you can kiss me after you’ve won.”
“As cruel to me as ever, I see.”
My smile is wobbly. “I can offer you more than luck, anyway.” I slide into his lap and brush my hair from my neck. “Take my strength.”
His nose brushes along my jaw as he kisses my bruised neck, ever so gently. “Not here,” he murmurs. “You’re hurt.”
“I don’t care. I want you to.”
He sighs against my skin, but pulls away, reaching instead for my wrist. “I’ll bite you there after I’ve won,” he says, looking up at me, before sinking his fangs into my skin. He’s only echoing my words from earlier, but still, it makes my stomach twist. We both know there may not be anafter.
He drinks until his broken fingers straighten. I spend the rest of the ride in his arms, my face pressed into his shoulder, and wish I could stay here forever. Just earlier today, I thought the worst possible thing would be to walk away from Claude at the end of this year… but now I know there are worse things that can happen.
When the car comes to a stop, it’s painful to extricate myself from his embrace. He smooths down the front of his shirt before he steps out, and turns back to offer his hand, helping me from the car.
His fingers linger on mine, his thumb rubbing slow circles against my knuckles. “I have to go in alone,” he tells me. “They won’t allow a human in the room when they’re ironing out the official details. I’m sorry.”
I swallow and force myself to nod. There’s no use in wailing and carrying on; I’m sure he’d have me at his side, if there was a way to. “Will I be able to see you before the duel begins?”
He smiles sadly, shakes his head.
