It’s been three days since the last attack at the club, but he hasn’t let me go home. I’m starting to get used to being here and to his moods. Honestly, I don’t think I ever want to be away from him.
When I do open my eyes, I find him almost instantly. He’s standing near the window, shirtless, arms crossed, staring out at the town like it’s an enemy he expects to strike at any second.
I stay still for a moment longer, listening to his breathing. Slow. Controlled.
He hasn’t slept. Not really.
I push myself up on one elbow. “You’re going to wear a hole in the glass if you keep staring like that.”
He doesn’t turn. “It’s daylight.”
“So?”
“That’s when cowards move,” he replies. “They think the light makes them safer. That I can’t get to them. They think that because the sun shines bright I’m powerless, they’d be wrong.”
I sigh and swing my legs out of bed, ignoring the way my body still aches in places that make my face heat. “You can’t stay wound this tight forever.”
He finally looks at me then, turning those sharp, dark eyes in my direction. “I can when there’s a war breathing down my neck.”
I don’t argue. Not directly. I’ve learned that pushing Orpheus head-on is like trying to stop a tide with your hands. You don’t block him. You redirect. Give him something else to focus on.
I stand and walk over to him, wearing nothing, as that’s how I slept, careful not to crowd his space. “You, King of vampires, have been through worse, I’m sure.” I try to lighten the mood, and it works a bit.
With a huff, he replies, “Yes, and I survived by never relaxing.”
I tilt my head. “And how’s that working for you right now?”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t snap. Thankful that he keeps it in check. What he does, though, is curl an arm around me, tugging me flush against him.
“I’m not telling you to ignore the danger,” I breathe, wrapping my hands around his shoulders. “I’m telling you that if you don’t let people see you still standing, still ruling, then they win without lifting another blade.”
He watches me for a long moment, like he’s weighing my words against centuries of instinct. His eyes narrow. “What exactly does that mean for you? What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I think it’s time for a little fun. Maybe some festivities. Music, dancing, maybe even a theme.” I let the hint hang in the air. Surely, for someone who’s been alive as long as he has, he can’t be oblivious to the date.
“You’re asking me to throw a party?” he says, confused.
“I’m asking you to let me throw one,” I correct. “Valentine’s Day is tonight. The town’s already buzzing. If Dyrk closes or goes quiet, people will know something is wrong. Valentine’s Day means something to people who want to try to find someone to spend it with. What better place to try than at Dyrk.”
The day after the attack, Orpheus worked wonders in getting the club fixed back up and running. They hadn’t even been closed that night since everything was back in order before it opened for the night.
He shakes his head in disbelief. “You want to paint the walls red and pretend everything’s fine.”
“I want to remind everyone that you’re still in control,” I say. “And maybe remind you too.”
Something flickers in his expression.
Reluctant consideration.
He exhales slowly. “I have meetings all day. Bikers. Suppliers. Allies who want reassurance.”
“I know,” I say. “Which is why you’re going to stay locked in your office being intimidating and strategic, and I’m going to take care of the rest.”
“You?” he repeats.
“Yes, me,” I say. “With Meg and Miriam.”
Meg, though still standoffish, has been somewhat nicer in her own way the past couple of days. I’ve helped her behind the bar a bit, though Orpheus doesn’t like for me to be away from him for long. When I worked behind the bar, he always kept his eyes on me.
