“Easy there, angel,” I murmur, only for her ears. “Dial it back a notch.”
She makes no indication to have heard me, can’t nod with her chin resting on the violin and hands a flurry of motion, but I know I got through to her. She withdraws a bit of the power I barely am starting to understand, never once fumbling a note. I step back and just marvel at her, still stunned that so many people can overlook how incredible she is just because they’re scared or jealous.
It’s as tragic as the beautiful music she plays, and her words of it being a part of her soul striving to escape echo through my mind. Listening from the new perspective, I appreciate it all the more. I canfeelher longing for more as if it was a tangible thing and it makes me physically ache with yearning. I can’t imagine living like this all of the time and the fact that she conceals it so well? Fuck, if I didn’t already love her, I’d fall for her all over again.
Dorian starts applauding first, snapping the other two out of their trance as they jump in wholeheartedly. Cambria bows with a flourish, soaking it all up. It adds even more life into her, and hell, if we could get her to perform in front of a solid crowd? She might not have to return to the fae world for weeks.
She says her goodbyes and we head back to the car, feeling twenty times better than we did leaving the house this morning. Thankfully, this means we’ve bought ourselves another day before having to cross, so she and Dorian can go hunting for another ring to use tomorrow since I’m scheduled to work. I’ve missed too many days as it is, and I know if it wasn’t for Lucien’s influence, I’d have been fired by now. I feel guilty, but it can’t be helped.
Glancing down at the back of my hand, I look at the branding of twisted knots that tether me to Cambria and the others, brushing my thumb across the raised scarring. As if she can sense me messing with it, she gives me a questioning look, checking that everything’s alright. Even now, when she’s being hunted for treason, she’s worried about us, wants to take care of her ‘humans’. It should grate at my nerves, make me feel like a pet, but in reality?
After my father offered me up to be killed in his place, it feels really damn good to belong with people that I know actually give a shit about me, that can’t leave me even if they tried. We’re bound to the fae, and even though it might mean our deaths, I feel more alive and at home than I ever have before.
Chapter 4
Cambria
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Ihear the car doorslam in the driveway, thrilled at the prospect of a ticked off Lucien storming in the door. Healthy? Probably not, but the best way to get his attention seems to be by annoying or pissing him off. He’s far too stoic as it is and if it takes frustrating the hell out of him to put a little life in his eyes? So be it.
I’ve given myself emotional whiplash over the last week, going from one extreme to the other faster than I can blink, but at this point I’m just trying to hold on for the ride. There’s far too much coming at us in rapid succession and I need some time to acclimate, to figure out how to adapt, so I’m trying to cut myself some slack. Naturally, that means I should ignore my problems in favor of causing some for other people; seeing others struggle makes me feel not quite so alone.
Silly humans and their moral compasses.
He throws open the front door, eyes settled on the scene in the living room and rolling his eyes. “No one could answer their phone because you were turning the house into a strip club? Seriously?” Despite his harsh words, I don’t miss the way his eyes rake over me, ensuring I’m not missing a limb.
“And here I thought you’d like the prospect of pole dancing.” I fake being put out, enjoying the flicker of panic in his amber eyes. “I’ll take it down, no need to make you suffer.”
He quickly backtracks, scrambling to salvage the situation, until he sees me grinning. “You’re infuriating.”
I don’t bother arguing, because I mean, he’s not wrong.
He came home late, missing dinner, and I take his hand to lead him to one of the couches we rearranged to surround the ‘stage’. He sits without a fight, starting to relax now that he knows we’re all alright. I slowly undo his tie, letting it hang around his neck, before gently running my hands down his chest and over his lap. Dorian flips on some seductive music and Luce quickly changes his tune to one wholeheartedly, and solidly, supporting the development.
I straddle his thighs and he tries to grip my hips, but I guide them behind his head instead, my breasts brushing against him. So when I slide off his lap to sit beside him and don an identical position, he practically pouts. Atlas steps out of the kitchen, strutting out and gripping the pole like he was born for the position.
