The words rush out so fast that at first I don’t notice Remus yank back from me.
“Like sexual healing!” I finish excitedly, searching his eyes for understanding.
But Remus completely pulls away at that, his arms dropping from my face. The light in his eyes dims like someone threw a switch.
“I don’t want to talk about him,” he says flatly. Voice cold.
My heart sinks. Dammit, I’ve probably gone about this all wrong. I’ve been too enthusiastic, and not careful enough with his feelings.
But I’m not ready to give up yet.
“Oh, come on,” I say, putting a hand on his arm, trying to reconnect. “The whole problem with the two of you is communication. It’s the oldest one in the book?—”
“No,” he cuts me off.
“—But now that we’ve found a way to spark a connection between you with me as a conduit?—”
“You are not a conduit!” Remus says harshly, voice sharp enough to cut.
But I shake my head, still trying. “Of course I am. I really think this was meant to happen. You went looking for a consort, not realizing the whole time what you really needed was a way to finally connect with your brother. A consort for both of you?—”
“I don’t want to fuck you so I can connect to my fucking brother,” Remus says loudly, stalking away from me across the room.
I finally stop, my enthusiasm deflating as I catch up to what I’ve been missing this whole time. I was so excited about my revelation that I hadn’t seen how tense he was from the moment he walked in. How wound up.
“What’s wrong?” I ask quietly, carefully. “Is there something going on you’re not telling me about?”
His gaze slides to the side. Avoiding. Then he steps forward again, eyes coming back to me even though his whole body stays rigid with tension.
“I’ve been looking forward to getting home to you,” he says, and there’s real emotion in his voice. Pain. “And for once in my life, I don’t want to think about my goddamned brother. Can’t it just be you and me here? Like it was at the beginning?”
He kisses me, and for a moment I want to get lost in him and say yes, of course. Forget everything else. Of course it can be just us again.
But even as my hands lift to twine around the back of his neck, they bump into Romulus’s sleeping face, and reality hits me.
I pull away from his lips. “You’re not wearing your glamour.”
And he hasn’t been since he came in. I didn’t register it at first because I’m so used to his wings and tail now. But his wings brushed the doorframe as he entered. And his tail is visible, moving restlessly behind him.
He closes his eyes, and his wings shimmer, then disappear along with his tail. The glamour settles over him like a mask.
But what was he doing that he hadn’t had it on before he came in? Isn’t a glamour something you have to concentrate on maintaining? Wasn’t letting it slip really dangerous here in a vampire compound?
And why do I get the distinct feeling he’s trying to distract me from something he doesn’t want to tell me?
When he tries to kiss me again, I pull back this time, searching his eyes. Really looking.
He just closes them, moving in for another kiss like I haven’t spoken.
“Remus,” I plead, shoving lightly against his chest. “I just want to talk. Please.”
He breathes out hard—not frustrated exactly, but when he turns away from me, I get a closed-off feeling. Like walls slamming down between us when usually there are open lines of communication.
“We don’t have to talk about Romulus,” I say, trying a different approach. But I can’t help adding, “Even though we have to sometime.”
I hold up my hands when his dark eyes flash a warning my way.
“It doesn’t have to be now, but your brother is a reality that’s not going away any time soon. Maybe right now, whileeverything else is going on, isn’t the time. But you’re not the only one in this relationship. He’s a victim here too?—”
