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He glanced down at himself. “I suppose they are.”

“How?” I asked.

Layne paused, then tucked a piece of hair behind his ear. “Well, because of you, darling,” he said, smiling softly. “I’ve told you we’re connected. The darkness you consume not only lets me see and feel things from you, but it heals me as well. I’m not the only one who was saved in all of this.” He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.

I smiled slowly and nodded. It made sense, I supposed—given that nothing really made sense anymore. But the way Layne held things to himself until I asked still frustrated me. At least he was being honest and answering my questions now, so I let it go.

Layne smiled and pulled back, caressing my cheek. “Now…we have two days,” his voice was dark and full of promise as it rumbled through his chest.

“Two days,” I echoed with a nod.

His expression shifted, more serious. “Now listen, darling, make sure you feed before you go. As you know, quality matters. Find the strongest, darkest heart you can.” He twirled a strand of hair that was floating around my face. “Your glamour will hold much longer that way.”

“How long?” I asked.

“If you feed well? Four to five hours, but then it will start to weaken.” His golden gaze blazed. “Most importantly, we don't want a repeat like tonight. You must keep your emotions in check.”

I'm fully aware…

He paused and laughed, a devious gleam in his eyes. “Unless, of course, it's in Preston’s final moments.” He took my hands and pulled me close. “Then—oh then, darling,” he whispered, “you should let Preston Willows see exactly what’s coming for him.”

I smiled back, my gaze cold and sharp.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

We floated together in the darkness while somewhere above, Ethan Ward walked home alone, heart shattered. In two days, I would see him again—standing together on Preston's yacht, both men unaware of the monster among them.

Teddy’s paws dug into Ethan’s chest, forcing him awake as he slowly pried his eyes open. The pale gray light filtered in through his window with that particular shade of Seattle gloom that made him question what time it was.

He’d called in sick for the first time ever. The old Ethan would have dragged himself in regardless, head down, pushing through. But the old Ethan was dead and buried on the beach at West Point. Broken by the only person who’d made him feel alive in years.

Teddy sat perched on his chest, her forest-green eyes staring back at him as if she knew he was falling apart.

She meowed softly. Some animalistic concern for his well-being, or simply a demand for food. It could be either one at this point. Most likely, it was the fact that he hadn't given her much attention last night, too shaken from what happened with Evie.

Ugh.

He winced. The last thing he wanted to do was replay everything again. Ethan wasn't even sure how he got back home in the state of mind he’d been in.

“Not today, Teddy,” he groaned, rolling over and pulling the comforter over his head.

She trotted over his body to face him, persistent as ever, pawing at his feeble attempt to shut out the world.

Ethan sighed in defeat, reaching from under his blankets to scratch between her ears. “You know, at this point, you’re the only girl in my life that wants anything to do with me.”

Teddy’s eyes squinted with pleasure as she meowed back, entirely unconcerned by his crisis as long as he kept petting her.

God, I sound pathetic.

Pathetic—The word hit him like a brick as the memories of last night flooded back in vivid, painful detail.

Ethan shoved the comforter off and sat up, his gaze sweeping across the small room. Remnants of last night were scattered across the floor like evidence at a crime scene. His shoes, caked with mud and the rocky silt of the beach, lay toppled on their sides by the door. The jacket he’d worn was crumpled in a damp heap at the foot of his bed, still reeking of salt water. All of it was a reminder of the shitstorm he’d barely weathered last night: The lighthouse. Evie. Everything about it, including her words, pressed down on his skull like a vise.

You’re just a pathetic loser who writes poetry nobody will ever read.

You were a mistake.

I don't want you, Ethan.