Page 74

Daemon drops his hands and scoots back as I take over, bandaging my own wounds. “What happened?” he asks.

“I found the list you left for me in your bedroom, went to the club, and got caught. Salios sent some monster after me.” It’s an efficient—albeit brief—explanation, and more than the asshole deserves. When I’m finished with my arm, I move on to my back, awkwardly tying the shirt pieces around me, shuddering at the way they tickle my skin. Daemon moves to help out, but I glare at him, and he holds his hands up as if to placate me.

It doesn’t.

“You went to the club alone?” Daemon asks. “Why would you do that, Annie? Are you crazy?”

I flip him off. “You’re the one who left your list behind, wrapped in a big bow on your bed. Of course, I went. I thought I could solve the murder before our time ran out.”

“I would never leave that list behind,” Daemon says. “I would never want you to risk yourself for me like that. The club is too dangerous for you to go there without me.”

“Then who left the list?”

But I already know the answer, and so does Daemon.

“Salios,” we say in unison.

This was all a game to him. He wanted me there. He wanted me caught. Hell, he was probably disappointed I showed up in the chastity belt and couldn’t be fed on by his demons. I should have known Daemon wouldn’t ask me to go there alone, letting incubi feed on me in a desperate bid to help fix an unfixable situation. Then again, it turns out I don’t know Daemon very well at all.

Grunting, I tie off the last knot, hoping the makeshift bandages are at least somewhat functional. As I finish adjusting them, Daemon notices the discarded cloak and the rolled-up parchment inside it. Hands still in the air, he scoots closer toward it. “May I?” he asks.

I roll my eyes and shrug. “Go ahead. It’s finished.”

Daemon plucks the scroll from my pocket and unfurls it, scanning the crossed-off names. “How did you—”

“Your father did most of the work.”

“Sylrin? You got him involved?” Daemon looks incredulous, which is wild given the circumstances. Ignoring the pain in my back, I return the cloak to my body and pull it close, hiding myself from him. When I don’t say anything, Daemon scans me up and down. “Did he hurt you? My father has a history of glamouring and raping witches. I didn’t want—”

“He didn’t hurt me,” I tell him, and the relief on Daemon’s face is instantaneous. Through narrowed eyes, I glare at him. “Actually, Sylrin saved me from the sleep rooms. He also took the time to explain how sleep-feeding works.”

Oh, shit.

I can see the words as clear as if he’d spoken them aloud. It eggs me on, giving me the strength to say what I need to say next. Throat gummy, I cough to clear it. “Was any of it real between us?” I ask. “Or was it all just mind games and manipulation?”

“I didn’t manipulate you.”

“You did. You planted that dream inside my head.”

He doesn’t deny it. Instead, Daemon tries to cup my cheek, but I turn away from him. I’d much rather stare into the shadowy darkness than into the face of this stranger.

“Annie,” Daemon says, voice oh-so-soft. “I shouldn’t have fed on you like that. I was desperate and jealous, and I knew you were going to pick Christopher if you didn’t realize I was an option.”

“And that somehow makes it okay?”

“Of course not. I just…” Daemon sighs. “I should have told you how I felt when you were awake. I should have actually crawled into the bed that night and said those things out loud. But I was scared of ruining our friendship.”

I scoff. Like it isn’t ruined now?

Icy silence passes between us. “I fucked up,” he says finally, which is the biggest understatement of the century. “I shouldn’t have fed on you without your consent, but I didn’t plant any feelings in your mind. In the dream, you could have rejected me, but you didn’t. You already wanted me.”

Wanted being the operative word.

Not anymore. Now, I don’t know what I want.

“I hate you,” I tell him, squeezing my eyes shut as another tear slips free.

“No, you don’t,” he says. And he sounds so fucking confident about it that it makes me want to slap him in his stupid face. “You love me, Annie, and I love you—”