“If Victoria and Seren are riding her, it’s because they want more from her, and Ceridwen is being Ceridwen, letting everyone reach the end of their rope before she steps in.”
“Oh, really? She didn’t do that with you.”
Rhiannon laughed, and Deryn propped her shoulder against the corner of the Book Nest. This was all rather eye-opening. Not entirely pleasant, but certainly informative.
“I was past the end of my rope, my love. I was dying and didn’t even know it. Deryn is nowhere near my situation. She’s… I guess the word I’d use is lost. Victoria is pushing her to find herself. Seren is… I don’t know what Seren’s deal is. It all goes back to Mom dying, and every single one of us having our griefand grievances when it comes to her. Still, they’re twins, and they have their weird relationship where there’s nobody dearer to them, and yet they push each other’s buttons like nobody else. And Ceridwen will step in. Eventually. She always does. Deryn has messed up ever since I can remember, and she could never get anything right, but I admit that none of us actually knew what the hell we were asking her to get right in the first place.”
Rhiannon’s sigh was particularly loud in the quiet of the night.
“Things were just always complicated with Deryn. And yes, I am the coward who skipped town and left her and Seren in Ceridwen’s lap to take care of.”
“So, you’ll do the same thing again?” Prudence did not appear impressed. Deryn could hear her disapproval loud and clear. The thought that other people were thinking of her as some kind of burden, something that needed tending and taking care of, something that needed fixing… Deryn felt tears well up.
“It’s more natural for Ceridwen to step in—” Rhiannon’s voice sounded defensive.
“Coward.”
“You bet I am. But I love my sisters, and I’m not entirely certain either of them should come to me, of all people, for advice.”
Rhiannon laughed, and so did Prudence. More kissing noises followed. Deryn exhaled.
The litany of names, actions, and motives that Rhiannon had listed before, along with the cold, chipped away at her defenses, battering an already tired system, slithering underneath her sweater, pricking her skin with restlessness and regret.
“Now, can we go inside? We can keep talking there. Unless?—”
“I have better use for your mouth, Rhiannon Crowhart. You’ve said enough for one evening. I disagree with most of it. Let’s try something else entirely.”
There was kissing, and Deryn thought she heard a zipper being lowered before a door slammed, and the street was, once again, steeped in silence.
She ended up where she did not expect to. Or maybe she did. Security asked her no questions, and she didn’t see the guy call up as the elevator doors closed behind her.
The mirrors around her showed off a reflection that she barely recognized. She must’ve fallen as she made her way to the resort as the corner of her mouth was bloody and she had smears of dirt on her jeans. No wonder the guard looked at her strangely.
Still, when the door to 1326 opened, Paloma’s face did not show surprise. For a moment, it held a question, an eyebrow raised, and then it morphed into concern, a tanned hand reaching out, gentle fingers touching Deryn’s cheek. When Paloma lifted her fingers, they held small fragments of ice.
15
PALOMA, ALLAYMENT & PUTTING A MOUTH TO GOOD USE
She didn’t expect Deryn. She should have. Maybe. Probably. But she had been wallowing ever since they lost the vote. Ever since she came back to the resort and found that someone had canceled the entirety of her opening-day reservations. Lachlan and the management team were desperately trying to reach out to every single one of the eighty-plus booked clients to determine what had happened.
It took hours. It took three different experts and a lot of swearing to discover that they had been hacked. Lawyers were called in, as were Sheriff Redding and the NYPD, since the servers for her company were in New York. The FBI might get involved, as well, because the crime had crossed state lines.
And so, she had not expected Deryn. And she had not expected tears.
As the ice from the pale cheek melted in her hand, Paloma felt the walls around her heart give a little. The years of encasing herself in a protective shell had served her well. And yet, this woman, with all her pain and all the unfathomable sorrow contained in her wondrous emerald eyes, seemed to be doing the impossible. She felt her own eyes fill with tears. Surely itwas sympathy. Surely it could not be the proverbial melting. It would be the most ludicrous of romantic clichés. Not even the worst romance novels she had secretly indulged in—and she had indulged in plenty; she was a fast reader, after all—were this bad.
Because this was very bad. Deryn blinked, and fresh tears, now hot enough to scald Paloma’s fingertips, streamed down her translucent cheeks, leaving streaks on the sharp cheekbones. Paloma caught them all anyway, even as she drew Deryn into the room and closed the door behind her.
They didn’t speak. There were too many questions, too much sorrow on the tear-stained face. And that ice surrounding Paloma’s heart cracked. Just a little, she told herself. Not too much, but the crack was there, and it let the sun in. The sun hidden in those long, tangled lashes, in those freckles, in those dimples.
Paloma traced them all. Her fingertips caressed the cold skin, and her lips touched the closed eyelids, feeling the lashes tremble, against her mouth.
There was no decision to be made. She was breaking her own word, and it was okay. She’d deal with it in the morning. With the fractured word and ice in her chest. She’d have to rebuild it somehow. She’d have to figure out how to reconstruct her defenses once again, because she’d never survive another heartbreak. And as she slowly kissed her way down to the pale lips, almost blue from the freezing weather outside, Paloma knew that Deryn would destroy her. She had that power. Tonight was indeed proof of how much power she held.
The vision intruded, one of fire and ice. Of another cold winter night and of the woman who could only be Deryn and yet wasn’t, coming to her door, bruises on her face and tears in her eyes. And just like now, Paloma saw herself lead her in, touch her face. Make love to her.
It was dreamlike in the vision. And she felt, now, as if in this dream, she slowly touched her lips to Deryn’s. The kiss flowed gently, tender nips, a slow glide of tongues, a lick, and another. Deryn’s breath came out in sobs, exhalations that held pain and shock and yet were kept at bay in a clearly desperate attempt not to scare Paloma away.
