Page 98

“Not really.” Damon’s teeth pull at the ring in his lip.

“Because death is everywhere,” I say, my voice low and rough. “There’s no escaping it. It’s around the next corner. Lurking in the dark when we finally fall asleep at night. It’s in the dirt beneath our feet and in the very air we breathe. Our reach goes into every part of Forsyth–a free pass to cross territory lines–because our work is never done. We don’t get borders or safe zones like the others. We go where the dead call us. Where the balance has been broken.”

I look up at the man who took my place. Damon sits across from me, strong and steady, but still so young.

“The only real rest I’ve had in years,” I continue, a tired, bitter smile pulling at my lips, “was when I was caught in the veil. Lying between this world and the next, not fully here, not fully gone.” I let out a short, hollow laugh. “Some kind of vacation, huh?”

He laughs knowingly, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest.

I let out a slow breath, staring at the grain of the wooden table.

“I spent so much time mired in the dark side of the veil that I worked myself raw trying to avoid it. I thought if I controlled enough, sacrificed enough, stayed one step ahead, I could keep death from touching the people I cared about. But I couldn’t. I failed them. Over and over again.”

The kitchen falls quiet. Damon doesn’t interrupt. He just watches me with those sharp eyes that look far too much like my own.

I finally look up at him.

“I don’t know where we go from here.”

For a moment, I’m not sure either of us has an answer for that, but it turns out we don’t need to.

“You come home with us,” Ari says from the doorway, eyes sleepy.

“Ari–” I start, but she strides into the room in nothing but one of my shirts and eases herself onto my lap. She smells so good. Feels so good.

“You came back for a reason, and it’s not to hide out here and give up.” Her fingers trace the scar. “We need you, don’t we, Damon?”

“There’s a shit ton to do, and we need your help to do it.” A small smirk tugs at his mouth. “And after what I saw in the bedroom, don’t even pretend like you’re not physically capable.”

He’s right about that. I’ve done the therapy. Rested. Healed. And today proved that I’m strong enough to go back to the House of Night. I squeeze Arianette’s thigh under the table, feeling the smooth warmth of her skin beneath my palm, and know I’m ready to be back with my family–in whatever role they’ll take me.

“If that’s what you really want,” I say, looking between them, “then I’ll come.”

Arianette stands and slides her fingers between mine while reaching across the table for Damon’s hand. The three of us sit there connected, a quiet circuit of heat and promise.

She leans down, brushing her lips against my ear, her voice soft and full of aching need. “Good,” she whispers, breath warm against my skin. “Because we’ve been waiting for you to come back and make us whole.”

I wake in the deep quiet of the night, the kind of silence that only exists in this house. Arianette is curled against my side like she belongs there, the curves of her body molded to mine. One of her legs is thrown over my thigh, her cheek pressed to my chest just above the raised line of my scar. Her breathing is soft and steady, each exhale ghosting warmly across my skin. She smells so fucking good. My cock is already hard, heavy, and aching where it rests against the curve of her hip. It’s the first time in months I’ve woken up like this–truly aroused, not just a vague morning stir. The recovery had left me uncertain whether my body would ever feel like mine again. But right now, with her pressed against me, every inch of me remembers exactly what it wants.

I run my hand down the smooth line of her back, savoring the warmth of her skin, the delicate dip of her spine, the soft swell of her ass. She makes a quiet, sleepy sound and shifts closer, her full breasts pressing more firmly against my ribs. Her new nose piercing catches a sliver of moonlight, delicate and shining. She looks so peaceful like this–lashes dark against her cheeks, lips slightly parted, completely trusting even in sleep.

I lean down and press a slow kiss to her forehead, then her temple. She stirs, eyelids fluttering open. When her gaze finds mine in the dark, a small, drowsy smile curves her mouth.

“Hey,” she whispers, voice husky with sleep.

Before I can respond, she leans up and kisses me. It’s slow and deep, unhurried, her tongue sliding lazily against mine. The tension that built when she first showed up eased after we fucked the first time. Now it’s just warmth, need, and quiet longing. I roll us gently so she’s beneath me, careful not to put too much weight on her as I settle between her thighs.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I tell her, holding her eye so I know she hears it. “You understand that?”

She nods, arching into me.

“Say it back to me, Arianette. I need you to say the words.”

“I’m beautiful,” she repeats, a light flickering in her eyes.

Pushing her shirt over her head and tossing it aside, I take my time with her, kissing down the column of her throat, across her collarbones, and lower. When I reach her breasts, I lavish attention on them–licking, sucking, and gently tugging on the silver hoops through her nipples with my teeth. Arianette arches with a soft moan, her fingers threading through my hair as she holds me there. The little gasps and whimpers she makes are the sweetest sounds I’ve heard in months.

Sounds I wasn’t sure I’d ever hear again.