“Probably.”
“You shouldn’t swear around children,” Carmine told him, as prim as a schoolmistress. “It’s not good for their development.”
“Atty’s first word wasshit,”Adriana chimed in, sounding far too pleased to relay that particular tidbit. “And his second washead.”
Carmine’s eyes, so big and blue in her face, went wide. “It was?”
Atticus shot his sister a glare. “It’s what our mom called our dad. It isn’t my fault I thought that was his name.”
“Charming,” Harlan muttered.
“It’s better than Adriana’s.”
Carmine leaned closer and whispered, “What was Adriana’s?”
Taking any opportunity to get closer to her, Atticus pressed his lips to her ear and murmured, “Piss.”
A laugh, sweet and clear, bubbled out of her. Something in Atticus’s chest swelled, made him straighten up and push his shoulders back.Pride.He was damn proud to have made his suspicious, wily little vampirelaugh.
“Was it really?”
“No,” he admitted, grinning, “it was Atty.”
“That’s much nicer.” She hesitated a moment before whispering, “Do you really like my hair? It feels strange.”
“I’m sure it does,” he replied, thumbing the line of her jaw, “but it’s gorgeous, doll. You’re gorgeous.”
Her gaze searched his for a long moment before she nodded once, decisively. “Did… Did the other thing go okay?”
Aware of Serafina’s nearness — hard to miss when tiny fingers were rooting through his pockets — Atticus leaned in close again. “He’s dead. You never have to worry about him or anyone else again.”
Carmine sucked in a sharp breath. “Will you get in trouble?”
“Nah. Remember when I told you I was a hunter?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t just find people, and I was very, very good at my job.”
Carmine’s expression was inscrutable when she asked, “Is that still your job?”
Do you still kill people?
He knew the question was coming. Atticus had never hidden his intentions for Junger from her, but it was one thing to hear a threat and quite another to know he’d follow through. Now she had to face the reality of what he’d been, what he was, and who he could be.
He felt a bit like they were standing on the edge of something, a perilous but unseen cliff. “No,” he murmured, stomach swooping, “not unless someone I care about is threatened.”
For one agonizing moment, he was certain he’d plunged off the cliff alone, but when Carmine tilted her head into his touch, he knew she’d jumped with him. “I can live with that.”
Knees practically gone to jelly, he breathed, “Good.”
“So… I’m free?”
Unable to resist her pull, Atticus pressed a reverent kiss to the shell of her ear. “You’re free, doll.”
“Thank you. For all of this. For everything.”She paused, and for a moment they existed in their own tiny little world. One that was just them, just the way they looked at each other, the way gravity itself felt different when they breathed the same air. “Why didn’t you tell me Adriana was like me?”
Skimming the very tips of his fingers over the jut of her chin, he answered, “That’s her secret to share, not mine.”
