Giordan’s expression didn’t change. “I’m going. I’ll be ready to leave in a quarter of an hour. Wait for me.” And he walked off down the hall, his broad shoulders seeming to fill the space, his strides easy and smooth.
When she turned back to Chas, he was watching her with an unfathomable expression.
“What is it?” she asked, aware that her fingers were trembling.
“It’s him. It’ll always be Cale, won’t it?” His mouth had flattened into a white line and misery touched his hazel eyes. He slid a hand into his hair and raked it viciously through the dark waves.
It’s only you, Narcise.She pushed away the echo of Giordan’s words from years ago. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You still love him, and until that changes, you can’t see anyone else. You can’t love anyone else. Including me.”
“I don’t—I might have thought I loved him once, but not any longer. I could never….You have no idea how his betrayal destroyed me.” She made her voice hard and filled with loathing, reminding herself of his sins.
And now they were going back to Cezar again. She felt lightheaded and faint. Both of them. Maybe she couldn’t do this after all.
Chas was looking at her, shaking his head. Intensity and anger vibrated off him. “He loves you. How can you not see it? At first I thought it was simply your disinterest. And you—you want him so badly you?—”
Her mouth was trembling, but she had to stop him from talking. “Don’t be a fool. He loves only himself, his own pleasure. There’s no space for anyone else. And we Dracule…we live for pleasure. I do.”
“Jesus, Narcise.” He drew in a deep breath, covering his eyes with his hand, then sliding it down his face. When he was finished, he looked at her. “God help me, I cannot believe I’m about to say this.”
She waited.
“If nothing else, at least you’ll know I’ve learned from my mistakes…” He shook his head, his dark hand falling away. He wasn’t looking at her now; he was looking down the hall, away from her. “I gave Sonia one of Cale’s handkerchiefs.”
Narcise’s heart stopped. She already knew Giordan’s Asthenia was cats, so it would be no surprise…but why would Chas be hesitant to tell her?—
“She sawyouin the vision. His greatest fear is you, dying. You, dead. Why do you think he’s insisting on going back to Cezar with us ?”
“You must be mistaken,” she whispered, frowning, fighting the shivers that attempted to take over her. “He has other reasons for seeing my brother again,” she said, forcing bitterness into a voice that shook. But it was difficult. All at once, she felt off-balance and confused. Weak. Even nauseated.
Chas didn’t respond right away. He was looking down the corridor in the direction Giordan had gone, his face still and harsh, his lips curled into each other. White edged his mouth and around his nose.
“Are you that blind, Narcise? His only reason for going back again is for you. Don’t you understand what happened, back then?” But still, he didn’t look at her. “Your brother blackmailed him into it. All of it. He was with him in order to protect you…in exchange for getting you away from Cezar. But you wouldn’t go.”
Narcise put her hand out against the wall. “You’re mistaken,” she breathed again, trying to draw air into her suddenly frozen lungs.
But Chas was still looking away, his body rigid. “I wish to hell I was.”
* * *
Giordan hadno compunction about leaving Rubey’s while Narcise and Woodmore were finishing their tender little tête-à-tête in the corridor.
He hoped they took their time and fucked while they were there, so he could get that much more of a head start. Never mind the way the thought made his insides roll sickeningly and the darkness hover at the edges of his vision.
He was able to travel during the day now, which gave him an advantage: horseback to Dover instead of the closed carriage Narcise would have to take, then across the Channel. If he could get to Cezar first….
A shudder took him by surprise and he quickly submerged it. Yes, he’d go back there. Yes, he’d do what he had to do—to save the lives of countless children and English citizens. To keep Narcise from having to.
He’d even kill Cezar if he had to…although it would probably kill Giordan as well, to do it. The remnants from his interlude with Narcise in the alley still made his insides pitch and his knees wobble.
Now, clear-minded, he understood what it had been: his body and soul protecting himself from the pain and anguish that would come from being with Narcise again. From letting her into his heart and soul as he’d done. The violent illness was his reaction to the hate and violence he’d eschewed for a decade, the reaction to a long-submerged addiction that had suddenly come rushing back: the need to hurt, to wound, tohave.
* * *
“Ah,sister. I’ve been expecting you. I see that you could no more stay away from me than I could stay away from you.” Cezar looked up as Narcise walked in. “And Woodmore as well. You didn’t mention in your message that he would be joining us. To what do I owe this great pleasure?”
They had entered Cezar’s private chambers, escorted by Belial, who stood too close to Narcise for her comfort. Her brother sat across the room at a desk. As they entered, his face changed from one of bald delight, to contemptuous welcome…to a startled, blank expression, as if he were trying to hide his true feelings.
