Page 63 of Nightshade

If I wanted Leo, that was only going to doom him.

And damn it all, I wanted him anyway. I was the worst sort of selfish. Always had been.

I sighed, long and slow until my body went soft again. Then I whispered, “I wish I could stop time right now and stay here.”

Leo hummed. When he nuzzled my neck, it tickled. “Because the afterglow’s so good?”

I laughed. How did he manage to make me laugh when I was so desperate and forlorn?

“No.” I let go of his hand so I could roll over. His broad chest created a little bubble of warmth between us that was so nice. I hadn’t realized how cold my life had been until I had him close. “Because right now, we’re together and you’re safe. You like me, and I . . . like you too, and if I really try and stop things right here, I can imagine what that might look like. How I could . . . maybe I could . . . stay, and we could be . . . something. I could fit with you too.”

He smiled at me like I was the reason the stars shone, and it broke my heart a little—this sweet wolf who looked at me the way I’d always wished someone would.

“Right now,” I whispered, “I can almost forget that Ivan’s coming. But then the seconds pass, and I remember, and I know that I’ve only made everything worse for you.”

Leo clutched my arm. “None of this is your fault.”

I shook my head. “Ivan’s coming here because of me. Let’s say everything goes the way you hope it will—you drive him back. People are still going to be hurt. It could be your family. If Katya dies, or Viktor . . . I couldn’t forgive myself for that, and you—as much as you might want to, it’ll never be the same again, and I like how it is right in this moment.”

He sighed. His warm palm curved against my cheek. “I like how it is right now too, so maybe we try and hang onto that? There’s no sense borrowing trouble that hasn’t come yet.”

“We have to prepare.”

Leo shrugged. “Not for death and devastation. Let’s prepare for a fight, and then for what comes next, like . . . black-out curtains in Mama’s living room so you can go anywhere you like in the daytime.”

“You want to get me curtains?” I choked.

Leo blinked at me. “I mean, yeah. If that’s not stupid.”

I pressed forward, burying my face in the center of his chest. “Not stupid,” I mumbled against his warm skin.

It was, in fact, one of the very nicest things anyone had ever thought of.

CHAPTER 33

Leo

Altair crashed so hard in the morning that I worried if he hadn’t had me there, he wouldn’t have made it to the safety of my dark bedroom. One moment he was mumbling something to me about not wanting to go back to the house, and the next he was simply asleep.

It was a bit unnerving, that.

He still breathed sporadically when asleep; I supposed that his body’s instincts still demanded it, presuming it needed oxygen to survive. One couldn’t exactly control sleeping impulses.

But then, this was what I’d been trying to tell Viktor.

Altair was still so very human, in so many ways.

Unlike the lot of us, who’d been born wolves, Altair had been born human, and then even once he’d become something else, he’d been subjugated, stuck under someone’s thumb. Someone monstrous, who’d taken joy in hurting him and making him feel small and helpless.

Altair still had the instincts of a human. Run. Hide. Tremble in fear.

He hadn’t been a fighter as a human, and the fact that he’d forced himself to stay and fight when the witches had come had been a constant struggle against his instincts, not moving with them. Not simply an extension of who he was. Altair didn’t believe it after so many years of being forced by Ivan to look out for himself, but he was a good person. If for nothing else, and I was sure there were many other justifications, Ivan deserved to die for that. For making Altair so desperate that he thought he was a feral monster.

Altair hadn’t been feral since the moment we’d met, and maybe not even then. Sure, attacking me had been a terrible idea, but I didn’t think he’d done it out of sheer mindless hunger, but something more sensible and human. Plain old hunger, and the awareness that he wouldn’t get far if he were starving.

Maybe that should worry me like it would Viktor, but it did not. Because attacking me had been more sensible than asking me if I’d give him blood freely. What sensible person would assume a stranger would agree to such a thing?

Maybe I was sick and broken for enjoying it, but also . . . I was tired of feeling like there was something wrong with me. With Altair, for those beautiful silent moments, I hadn’t felt wrong or sad or broken, or like an outsider in my own pack.