Page 150

I open my mouth, then close it again.

Damaris doesn’t say anything, just sits there waiting, and somehow that’s worse. The last thing I want is that look in his eyes.

“I thought I had a lead,” I admit. “I found a photograph in the library and for a while I really thought it might be her.”

Damaris closes his eyes, dragging a hand down his face. “Light help me, boo. You found a photograph and decided to chase it across the city by yourself?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“No?” He gestures with the spoon to his own chest. “Because from where I’m sitting, it sounds exactly like that.”

My grip tightens around the bowl as I look away. “I— I just didn’t want to drag anyone else into it.”

“See, that’s the part that makes me angry,” Damaris says, his voice staying frustratingly calm. “You keep deciding that for everyone else. You didn’t call me. You didn’t text me. You just disappeared.”

“I thought I could handle it.”

“Maybe.” He shakes his head and drops his spoon back into the bowl. “But if you called me, I would’ve come with you. No questions asked. That’s what friends do.”

Another knock hits the door, louder this time, and still neither of us moves.

“Dama—”

“No, Rowan. I’m serious. Stop acting like you’re alone in this.”

The next knock rattles the door hard enough to make both of us jump.

“WHAT?” Damaris shouts toward the door at the exact same moment I bark, “Good Light⁠—”

“You have three seconds before I open this myself, mouse,” Ciaran snaps from the other side.

Before either of us can move, the door swings open hard enough to hit the wall. Lucan strolls in looking deeply entertained by something while Ciaran follows right behind him, filling the doorway with the same arrogant, impossible presence that’s been haunting my head since waking up alone this morning.

My stupid heart notices him before the rest of me does.

Ciaran’s gaze drags over me, lingering long enough to send heat climbing back up my throat before one corner of his mouth lifts. “What? You two fighting or something? You ignored my messages.”

“You left.”

“You were asleep.” He steps into the room, his attention locking onto me like Damaris and Lucan barely exist. “And then you left. What were you doing?”

“I had practice.”

He grins, his hand skidding against my waist as he passes, possessive enough that my pulse trips over itself. “Clearly. Anyway, get your coat, mouse.”

I blink at him. “What?”

“I’m taking you somewhere.”

“Where?”

He smirks. “You’ll see.”

“Relax. I’ll stay behind and entertain your friend.” Lucan drops backward into Damaris’s desk chair, stretching his long legs out.

Damaris flushes. “That sounds threatening when you say it.”

“That’s because I am threatening. If I want to be.”