Unlike me.
I know that’s not what Thorne meant. He meant I had no reason to fear the man had foul intentions with Daph. Even if Thorne had meant it the other way, could I blame him? I’ve never given him any reason to believe I’m anything but a careless rake. In fact, I encouraged him to think that way about me. It was the mask I wore, to keep him from fully respecting me. From caring too much.
He’s exactly the kind of person you’d want to match her with.
Thorne was right, and this was always the goal from the beginning. Daphne needs a husband. I need a case study. Patrick’s show of interest is not something either of us should discourage. If they form a relationship, both Daphne’s and my problems are solved. I’ll have the perfect ending to my case study. Daphne will have incontrovertible proof that she can’t become Clyde’s mate. Yet there’s one key component that’s missing; there was no spark between them. I sensed not a single flicker. Not when they danced. Not when they spoke.
The only spark…
The only spark I sense…
Panic seizes my chest, tightening it in a vise. I take another deep drag of my cigarillo, willing the ache to leave, but it doesn’t. Not fully. Maybe it’s been there all day. Or perhaps it’s been weeks. I wish I could blame the emotionally charged ceremony, as it left my emotions raw, but I’ve felt this way before. This terrifying flame burning in my lungs.
I remember the last time.
It was on a night much like this, during The Heartbeats Tour. The gala. The first time I saw Daphne in seelie form. I recall the shock that tore through me, followed by a fierce protectiveness when I watched her dance. I’d already been protective of Daphne throughout the tour. She was the smallest of us, and while she was armed with a fierce bite, I still wanted to look out for her. That instinct grew when I saw her in that beautiful dress, dancing awkwardly with one partner and then the next. Then came the partner with the roving hands, and I stepped in.
But that wasn’t where my panic ignited. It was later that night, after the gala had ended. Our lust-addled authors had decided to make the kitchen in our shared suite their personal fuck nest, so Daph and I got the hell out of there. We found an empty balcony and there we spent the next couple of hours. She drank her favorite berry cordial while I smoked. We didn’t even talk much; we simply enjoyed the quiet night. Then Daphne climbed onto the balcony rail. My heart lurched into my throat, but she kept her balance with ease, just like she did in unseelie form. She extended a hand into the dark, grasping at something I couldn’t see.
Then I realized what she was after. Cherry blossoms were raining down from the night sky. Or—more accurately—our hotel. The gala took place in an enormous living tree. Everything from the walls to the furnishings to the balcony was composed of this tree. I’d come to take such marvels for granted, for we’d been traveling across the isle, staying in a multitude of marvelous places. I’d grown used to whimsy. But then, as I watched Daphne snatching cherry blossoms from the air, her black hair limned blue in the starlight, her feet balanced on a twining, living balustrade, I felt like I was experiencing whimsy, beauty, and magic for the first time.
She finally caught one of the blossoms.
And turned to me with a joyous smile.
I’d never seen her smile before. Not in seelie form. It was so similar to how she bared her teeth to express her happiness as a pine marten, yet new. Different. Stunning.
That was when I felt like my heart had caught fire. When my lungs pinched tight.
The spark.
It was a pleasant flame at first, but my stomach sank, taking all my beautiful, burning awe with it.
Because I knew then, as I watched her so wild and free, so beautiful and innocent, that she was too good for me.
She was someone I could hurt.
I left her on that balcony shortly after, feigning fatigue, and I kept my distance in the following days, weeks, months, until I severed our friendship the day I got fired.
The memories cloud my heart, doubling my panic. How did I get myself in the same position I was in then? How did I let things go so far?
I take another drag, tipping my head back to exhale a lavender-scented cloud.
She’s still someone I could hurt.
…someone who could hurt me.
I frown. No, that’s not it. I live a dangerous life. I’m racked with debt. I could hurt her.
She could hurt me.
No, I hurt everyone around me.
Everyone I’ve loved has hurt me.
I shake the small voice from my mind. I’m truly losing it, aren’t I? I’m the one who hurts people. I hurt my sister and all my friends when I sank into my dark mood after I found out about my mother.
And not a single friend noticed the pain you were hiding.
