She frowns. My stomach knots. For a man who’s supposed to be a tactician, now that it’s my moment with the woman I’vebegun to long for, I can’t find the words. “I mean,” I try again, slower this time, “I like you very much.”
Her eyes flicker. “I know last time we talked, you said you would be content if Remus and I could find a way to make it work. That’s one thing. But this is—” She breaks off, eyes wide. “It feels unfair to you.”
She’s said this before, and again my frustration rises—not with her, but with my own silence back then, all the things I didn’t say. “If there had been any way for me to pursue you myself…” I trail off, jaw tight. “I recognized you were with my brother, but at the same time, I didn’t trust his motives.”
But she’s caught on the first part of what I’ve said. “You would have wanted to pursue me?” Her voice is a soft shock.
“I—” I start, then stop, scrubbing a hand down my face. “Were I not attached to a…” I bite the word off. Madman. Monster. No. We’re past name-calling now. “Were I not in this unique situation, of course I would.”
I take a step closer and clasp her hands. Her eyes lift to mine, searching, glistening with unshed tears. All I want to do is swoop down and kiss her. “If I weren’t in this impossible situation,” I whisper.
She nods, looks down at our linked hands. Her head shakes slightly. “The truth is, normally, I wouldn’t even be looking at another man if I was with someone. But this—” She lifts her face again. “Neither of you wants to admit it, but you’re stuck with each other. And today, for the first time, you were able to communicate. What if this is an amazing opportunity we’re all being presented with?”
Her eyes are so bright with hope I almost can’t breathe.
“What if we could make this work?” she asks, squeezing my hands, tempting me to believe anything from her beautiful mouth. “The three of us? What if that’s why Remus found me after all this time of you two being alone?”
A hope I can’t even name flares in my chest. I tell myself I’m a fool for allowing it. But gods, her optimism is beautiful. Tempting. She believes my brother capable of maturity and depth I’ve never let myself see. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I’ve refused to see because of old jealousies, old battles. Maybe we could communicate instead of mutely fighting for dominance in this cursed body.
I think it and remember: my brother is the angel of War. My conscience pricks; that’s not exactly true either. We both are. We’ve both been war. And maybe we can never change so long as we each keep a combat stance. If one of us were to give before the other, I’m the logical choice. I’ve always been the one to choose restraint.
Still. I’m not sure I believe in peace between Remus and me even as I pull Lo-Ren against my chest and stroke her damp hair with my fingers. “Maybe so,” I murmur. “Maybe so.”
With my other arm, I hold her fiercely. “I just know that any bit of yourself you’d share with me would feel like a miracle.”
Her arms slide around my waist in return, her voice muffled against my chest. “We should get some rest. Will you hold me tonight?”
My heart growls its answer even as I swallow it down. For a brief, rebellious moment, I wish I could meet my brother face-to-face on a field of battle and fight for her favor like the knights of old. Then I remind myself: peace. Peace. Yes. We’re trying out this wild idea of peace.
As I climb into bed and Lo-Ren tucks her warm body against mine, I wonder to what lengths I might go to keep her by my side now that I’ve discovered this feeling. It does not feel especially peaceful. But gods, it feels like life.
TWENTY-SEVEN
ROMULUS
As I wake,I realize I’m still myself—still in control of our body. A small victory.
I hear a gentle knock at the door and, moving quickly so Lauren won’t wake, carefully unwind her body from mine. She’s wrapped around me like a vine—one leg thrown over my hip, her arm across my chest. I lay her gently on the pillow beside me, arranging her carefully. She stirs slightly, making a small sound of protest, but then her gentle snores continue.
I smile despite myself, then hurry toward the door before whoever’s there can knock again and wake her.
I quickly throw up the glamour—feeling the magic settle over my features like a mask—then open the door to find Abaddon hulking in the hallway beyond.
It’s strange to see his usual lion’s face shaped into that of a bearded human man. Wrong, somehow. Yet it’s still recognizably Abaddon—those fierce golden eyes, that commanding presence, the way he fills a space just by existing.
“Romulus?” Abaddon inquires, eyes narrowing as he studies me.
I nod curtly.
“Good,” he says with satisfaction. “The gathering’s about to start, and I need my strategist.”
I grab my shoes from beside the door, tugging them on quickly. I take one last glance over my shoulder at Lauren sleeping peacefully—dark hair spread across the pillow, face relaxed—and follow him out, closing the door with a soft click.
Layden hovers behind Abaddon in the dim hallway, tapping his foot impatiently. “We need to get going. Now.”
Hopefully, if the meeting goes quickly enough, I can be back before Lauren even knows I’m gone. Before she wakes and finds herself alone in a vampire’s nest.
“Kharon’s staying behind to watch over the women,” Abaddon whispers, obviously sensing my anxiety about leaving Lauren unguarded.
