Darius once told me that the names we're born with carry a different kind of power, and when he says mine, I feel it seep under my skin. His words thrum through me, undeniable, resonating in places I don't want touched.
I take another swallow of whiskey, hoping that its fire in my chest will drown out the other one building there. I can't let him drag me into a spiral I won't climb out of.
Then he says, "I know you shared your blood with them. I hope you didn't try theirs."
I blink at him, surprised by the turn. "No. You told me it's poison. Why? Is there something else?"
He shakes his head. "No. It's harmful for a nymph, that is the truth. I needed to hear it from you." He looks out the window, glass balanced easily in his hand. "We're here."
The car winds up a gravel drive, pulling toward a mansion larger than the Bright estate. White columns, glowing windows, manicured lawns. Power, wealth, exclusivity bleeding from every angle.
A private members' club. I'd bet my life the mayor's name is on the list.
The driver opens the door. Darius offers me his hand. I don't argue, picking my battles.
We move through a side entrance straight into the restaurant. The staff greet him with murmured "Mr. Hawthorn" and deferential bows. If I cared, I'd feel out of place in my dark jeans and simple shirt I use for working atCole's. And once we step into the chandelier-lit grand hall, I do care. A little. Old habits die hard—being proper was drilled into me since kindergarten. Expensive, exclusive kindergarten.
Thankfully, we're ushered into a private dining room. Heavy velvet curtains fall shut around us, sealing us in like conspirators.
Darius pulls out a chair for me. I sit, wary. My fingers brush unconsciously against the crystal at my neck. His eyes track the movement, but he doesn't comment.
"I've ordered the special menu," he says smoothly. "Wine paired with the courses. If you'd prefer something else—"
"It's fine." My voice comes out sharp. "I just want to get on with this."
I flick a glance at my phone. No messages, no missed calls from Jace or the brothers. There's still time.
He nods, unperturbed. "The staff here are mine. We can speak freely. Do you wish to begin? I imagine you have questions for me."
I go for one of the easier ones first. "Hawthorn Industries has ties to the criminal world. And I don't mean the vampire blood business."
"Yes." A simple answer as the first course arrives—artful little plates of dips with fresh bread.
Darius swirls his wine and continues, "That's inevitable. We work with construction, land management, city planning—thebig picture things. The criminal underworld is intertwined with what gets approved and what doesn't. Human institutions have always had their underbellies." He takes a sip, calm as water. "I am not a crimefighter, Sage. My mission is nature. As long as I can steer the influence where I need it, I deal with whoever holds the power."
"You never told me."
His gaze sharpens faintly. "That part didn't touch you. But you're right. Once we were engaged, I should have told you the wider truth of Hawthorn Industries."
I chew the bread, drink the wine. It's good and apparently I'm hungrier than I thought. The plates are cleared before I realize I've finished, and I press forward.
"The second attack. It was organized. You staged it so you could save me. Keep me."
"Yes." His answer is unflinching. "Because you ran. If I had let you go, someone would have attacked you eventually. But then I wouldn't have been able to step in."
The next dish arrives, steaming and rich, and the scent makes my mouth water despite the fury curdling in my chest.
My fingers clench white around the glass. "You manipulated me."
"I did. I won't apologize for it. It was necessary."
He believes his words. And the worst thing is—a small, unwanted part of me believes them too.
I clench my teeth, irritation curling hot and sharp at him and at myself. I take a long sip of wine just to buy time, then set the glass down harder than I should. "How does yourinfluenceactually work?"
His eyes flick to the crystal at my throat, then back to me. "Not like a vampire's. It's subtler. If I told you to jump off a cliff, you wouldn't."
"That doesn't make it better."
