The large, soft, black hoodie that Kane was wearing yesterday.
And he’s put it in a bag.
He didn’t just bring it. He’d have had to find a bag, pick it out, fold the hoodie... Just the thought of Kane doing all of that made this seem much more monumental.
“Erm, thank you,” I mumble to the ground, taking the bag.
I really want to touch it again, but I don’t. I place it inside the entrance of Kacey’s apartment, and immediately close the door behind me.
Come on, Jasmine. Get it together.
“We can go, by the way. Kacey already left,” I say. “I think the thing with Amon has really… knocked her.”
He nods once, letting me know he heard my words. “Good, we have plans.”
No sympathy or follow-up. Justgood, like the only thing that matters is the fact I’m now free.
I arch a brow. “We?”
“No more lies,” he says, his new mantra and that barely-there smile are a nightmare. “We meet every Monday morning. Will you come?”
Will you come?
What dangerous words they are.
No command. No threat. Just a simple request.
“And where is this meeting?”
Because if this is a plot to get me back into their house… Part of me isn’t ready to go back there. A space just filled with them, their presence everywhere. Their rooms, their scents, their power. And the other part, well…
“You’ll see,” he says, holding his hand out. “Not the house.”
When I don’t respond, he steps closer, tilting his head at his palm in silent suggestion.
And why is that so sexy?
I force myself not to hesitate, to show strength, placing my fingers in his hand. The instant relief it brings almost has me falling into him, but I stay steady.
“Is everyone going to be there?” I ask, very aware my voice is deeper. I’m also very aware that more of his darkness is curling around me.
“You had the four of us last night.” He brings in the hand I’m holding, in turn pulling me closer. “Does the prospect of having us all again make you nervous?”
My mouth parts.
Because the tone isn’t dry or accusatory. It’s teasing.
Is Kane… is he talking like this on purpose? The way his lips still hold that soft curve tells me he is.
I forgot he could feel my emotions. Not fully, not exactly, but he’s told me before that, as a demon, he doesn’t have many of his own. That’s what makes it worse. Because when you rarely feel anything yourself, someone like me, an empath, hits harder. Probably doesn’t help that we’re… bonds.
But he’s clearly misreading me, because it isn’t being around the four of them that makes me nervous. It’s how I react to them.
Even now, after food and sleep has steadied me, I know how easily their emotions slip into mine. How quickly they muddle everything.
I have to be careful. I can’t afford to forget which feelings are mine, and which belong to them.
“I’m not nervous.” I close my eyes, breathe in. Try to ignore how close we are, how his darkness caresses me.
