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Cain is my music partner, and he takes care of me in that respect. He always brings me tea or insists that I rest if he thinks I’m pushing rehearsals too far. Cain appreciates music and art; he acknowledges and admires my singing abilities. But in every other situation, you would think that we were strangers. Besides our kiss in the greenhouse, he’s shown time and time again that I’m invisible to him. My heart has no business longing for him the way that it does.

I just get so lost in him. The way his fingers glide over the piano, or when he’s focused on his sketch pad. I used to catch a glimpse of his gorgeous drawings, but he’s become secretive about them. At least with me. He doesn’t want to share them with me.

Even now, when he’s towering over me to scare me from my seat, I’m fighting the urge to look up at him.

“Now’s not a good time, druzhishche.” Dean flashes me his brow, biting his lower lip as his smile tugs up at one side.

“No, it’s alright. Take all the time you need.” I reach out, wrapping my fingers around Dean’s forearm, returning his smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Cain’s hand shoots out from behind me, wrapping his long fingers around my wrist and squeezing until I have no choice but to let go. “A word with you,” he growls low in my ear. I suck in a breath as he pulls me from my chair, grips both of my arms, and walks me out the door to the wings. Cain throws me, I spin around, and he pins me to the wall. One arm is gripping my bicep, while his forearm rests next to my head.

“Cain…” My voice kisses the air between us in a gentle whisper. His chest heaving with fiery breaths, his face inches from mine. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t. Date. Dean.” Each word passes his lips slow, final. Feeding the ache in my heart and the pit of my stomach.

Is it so wrong for me to want to find love?

“Why?” My whisper makes it past the frog in my throat but nearly disappears into the air.

“Because I don’t want you to!” He yells, releasing my arm and slamming his hand on the wall beside me.

“Do… You want to be with him?” They spend a lot of time together… I know Dean is bisexual; could Cain be?

“No.” He blows a puff through his nose, his nostrils flaring.

“Okay… Then, shouldn’t Dean be the one to decide whether or not I’m good enough for him?” He doesn’t think that I’m good enough for his best friend. That has to be it…

The ache in my chest grows, Uncle’s words creeping to the forefront of my mind.

You are nothing.

“Mm!” I start when his lips crash into mine, and I swear my heart leaps from my chest. Cain’s devouring me. It’s a clashing of lips, teeth, and bites. He drags my bottom lip between his teeth, practically gnawing on my tender flesh. I meet him for every kiss, every bite, every lick. Cain is all-consuming.

Hungry… Lethal…

Then he growls, “I don’t want you to date him because I want you for myself.”

Turns out I’ll be ending up with Dean after all.

Not in the conventional sense by any means. Dahlia and I have been navigating this arrangement together, bringing Dean in the loop when we’ve figured things out. We’ve both been struggling with feeling like we are stepping on each other’s toes. With me being the only person in Aurelia he seriously considered being in a relationship with.

Dean told her everything, how he stopped pursuing me because Cain stepped in, how he promised to marry me and keep me out of the hands of the Lazeroff’s if Cain wouldn’t.

It doesn’t help what I put Dean through. My suicide attempt has been hard for him; he’s hardly let me out of his sight. And when he does, he touches base with whoever I’m with. He’s spent more nights with me than with her because he’s afraid that I might try again, or that I might run off.

As uncomfortable as it’s been, Dahlia is amazing and hasn’t held anything against me. I couldn’t ask for better friends.

I’m sure this new development will help to squash whatever awkwardness is left between the three of us…

I’m wrapped in my softest nightgown, curled up in my rocking chair, looking out my window into the town. The lamplighter makes his way through the streets, illuminating the trails that guide everyone home. Or out. Tonight is club night at the theater, or more like alternative rock and pop concert night. It draws everyone in, Pru in particular. I’m hoping that after this morning's incident, she decides to stay home.

Three soft knocks tap on the door. “Come in,” I say. It opens, and Dean steps in. He’s dressed in his typical black jeans and a new pair of black shoes. His tattoos peek through the black button-up t-shirt and spread down his arm. He watches me for a beat, his hands hidden away in his pockets. He smiles, warm as ever, but with a mild hesitancy that never used to be there.

We’ve been through so much over the past couple of months. I wish I could go back and not put him through what I did.

“I—” He clears his throat, “I have something for you.” He walks over, kneels before me, and takes my hand in one of his. “You will always be one of the greatest gifts this world has given me.” His thumb rubs the back of my hand, and I swallow, pushing back the stinging in my eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” I smile and give his fingers a gentle squeeze. This isn’t the first time we have said this to each other; Dean has always been open and loving with his friends.