Chapter 35
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FIVE
Beck
If I hadn’t been as transparent as glass before my win, what happened after would have cleared things right the fuck up. With my winnings gathered and chips cashed out, I approached Stefano to collect my final prize.
I tried not to look frantic, angry, or anything but resolute as Stefano ducked out from under the loop of Zephyr’s arms, then offered his lithe body up with ease.
“I’ll walk with you,” he said as though I should let him carry my trophy, like I would allow his hands on my incubus for another second.
“I’ve got him,” I replied in a growl.
Stefano hesitated before passing Zephyr into my grasp, and I snatched him up.
Zephyr whined as he was jostled, and I now saw that his wrists were bound with a man’s necktie.
The knot was so tight that his hands had begun to lose their color.
I would cut the tie the moment we got to the car, but I had to maintain a shade of indifference in the current company.
His cherry vanilla smell curled in my nostrils, though it was muddied by the notes of Stefano’s cologne.
The rich musk, combined with Zephyr’s aroma, was so powerful it started my heart kicking double time.
Old love and new tangled together, and I lingered for a moment with Zephyr hugged against my chest and Stefano hovering close. Too close.
Scowling, I shook off the knowledge that I too had a list of wishes, and Stefano Rossetti was far too near the top. Pity I couldn’t make deals with myself. I would have gladly signed away my feelings for him. Bartered to be free of our shared past. Or at least forget it.
Heavily laden with the stares of everyone in the room, I took my leave.
Colette was on me the moment we hit the hallway, her stiletto heels clipping along as she closed the space between us. In the elevator, she shifted. Protective muscle melted into mother hen as she shrugged out of her suit jacket and tucked it over Zephyr’s bare chest like a blanket.
“Tiens bon, mon petit,” she said, adjusting the collar with a tenderness that made something cinch behind my ribs. “?a va aller.”
He stirred, first squeezing his eyes shut harder then forcing them open with what seemed like a mammoth effort. When he focused on me, his reactive flinch tore a hole in my heart.
“B-Beck?” His arms strained against the binding tie, and he winced again.
“I’m sorry.” The furrow between his brows cut in deeply, and his words slurred together in a stream.
“I did-didn’t mean… wasn’t trying to hurt you.
I didn’t know. I don’t know me. Myself. An-and I…
” He gulped down a sob before whispering timidly, “Beck, did you… did you come for me?”
I nodded before I could speak. “Yes,” I said, but it wasn’t enough. “Of course I did.”
His lips trembled, then his voice came again, a frayed thread. “You… you’re not… through with me?”
Fuck.
I had said that.
I’d thrown those words like a dagger, then left it lodged in him. For days.
My eyes dropped to the floor of the elevator car, and I shook my head. “No, Beauty. I’m not.”
He sagged. From relief or exhaustion, I couldn’t tell, but it shattered me all the same.
I wouldn’t be through with him in forty-eight hours either, but I tried not to think about that. Not yet. I needed to focus on the immediate: getting him home, then getting him fed so he didn’t look so much like a corpse. The husk of what I knew he could be.
On the ground floor, I moved like I was a thief rather than a victor, stealing away with something that should never have been given. People were neither property nor prizes. My incubus deserved better, and I would give that to him as soon as I found a way.
Colette kept up, using her body to shield Zephyr from gawking stares as we hurried toward the exit. She’d taken one of his hands at some point and now held it. Their connection felt important. Necessary.
She reminded him of his mother.
We made it outside and did not slow, trekking swiftly back to where we’d parked the limo. I kept my head down and my pace steady, arms cinched tightly around Zephyr’s body as we cut across the plaza. He was breathing shallow and even against my chest, slack with sleep or shock or both.
The Basilica was barely at our backs when a deep voice called from behind us.
“Lucas!”
I knew who it was, but even if I didn’t, I could hardly ignore my name being bellowed over the midday hubbub.
“Beck!”
I stopped. Not because I wanted to. Not because he deserved it. But because my heart still responded to that voice with the ache of a bruise being pressed.
My jaw clenched. I adjusted my arms to hold Zephyr tighter, then I turned.
Stefano strode down the steps in a beam of sunlight, his damn wings spread wide enough to draw eyes. People parted for him. Some brazenly stared, others backed away.
I should’ve kept walking, but some part of me—the stupid, bleeding part—waited.
When he reached us, breathless and flushed, I turned my shoulder. But I didn’t actually move.
“Lucas.” His hand entered my peripheral, fingers stretching toward my arm.
I shifted before he could touch me. “Whatever you want to say, Stefano, don’t bother,” I said. “I’ve seen enough. You’ve done enough.”
“I didn’t do this,” he said quickly. “I wouldn’t.”
“No?” Indignation spun me around. “So, you’re not dealing in demon energy? Buying it wholesale from Maslow like you’re stocking a fucking vending machine?”
The angel’s ivory skin splotched with red.
Good. He deserved to be ashamed.
“That wasn’t my idea,” he said.
I laughed without humor. “Let me guess: Antonella.”
The mention of his sister set him back. Despite the angels being formed fully grown, he acted like a child when it came to her. Always following her orders and footsteps, even when they led him into trouble.
“She has a vision,” he defended weakly.
“She has delusions,” I corrected. “And she has your spine in a jar on her desk. She always did. Looks like she always will.”
I was ready to go. Really, I was. The timing of this unhappy reunion could not have been worse. I didn’t want to waste my energy on Stefano when Zephyr needed me. And I was more aware than ever that I needed him too.
Before I could depart, Stefano spoke again. “Lucas, I-I can’t tell you how long I’ve thought about this. You. Us. I planned…” His brow creased under the fringe of silver hair. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”
“For a hundred years?” I snapped. “What’s kept you? I wasn’t hiding. I live right across the damn street.”
His wings rustled. “I know. I’m sorry. For so many things. Including that debacle upstairs. I didn’t realize he was…” He glanced at Zephyr, who was slumped against my chest with his head tucked under my chin. “Important to you.”
“Who said he was?” The words came out brittle and false, too obviously a denial. I shook my head, jaw aching with how hard I gritted my teeth.
I thought back to the poker match I should have lost. Stefano threw the game intentionally; I was sure of it. Was he trying to curry my forgiveness? It was far too late for that.
“Why did you fold?” I asked finally.
“I thought you had me beat.”
I scoffed. “I assure you, I didn’t.”
Stefano gave a slight nod and let his gaze drop with it. “It seemed like it mattered more to you.”
My fingers curled around Zephyr’s shoulder. I didn’t have a reply. Not one I could say with him here, unconscious and vulnerable and mine. Nothing I could admit with Colette watching like a wolf behind her lashes.
I’d told Zephyr we were through and immediately regretted it, but now, staring at the man I’d spent decades pining after, I realized what I’d lacked.
Closure. The ability to walk away on my own terms rather than being left standing, staring at a void and wishing someone would fill it.
Knowing that, I was almost grateful Stefano had chased me down.
He’d given me the chance to say aloud what had lurked in my mind for so long.
“It does matter,” I said, soft at first, then building as I straightened my spine and held Stefano’s gaze. “He matters.” I indicated Zephyr. “And he is important to me.”
Something shifted behind Stefano’s eyes. Not surprise—he was too composed for that. This was closer to sorrow.
“I’m glad,” he said quietly.
It was too graceful, too final. I would have preferred anger. A fight. Something to scratch against. But his acceptance left me fumbling.
“And he’s not…” My throat bobbed. “He’s not whatever Maslow told you he was.”
“Maslow didn’t tell me anything,” Stefano said. “And it wouldn’t have mattered if he had.” He took a small step forward, wings drawing in and expression softening. “I’ve only ever wanted happiness for you, Lucas. If I can’t give it to you, then I’m glad you’ve found it in someone else.”
There it was.
The ending I never got.
I gave a jerky nod, not trusting my voice.
Zephyr stirred faintly, curling a little closer to my chest.
Turning to Colette, Stefano nodded to her like he had across the card table.
“Take care of him, won’t you?” he asked.
Colette bobbed her head, then threaded her arm through the crook of my elbow. “Come, mon ami.” Her nudge spurred me into motion. “Let’s go home.”
Bringing Zephyr back to my suite was bittersweet. He cried while I cut the tie off his wrists, then let me hold him on the ride to the Grecian, rubbing the feeling back into his blood-deprived hands and kissing his curled fingers.
I wasn’t sure what had transpired before my arrival at the poker game, but evidence of cruelty was stamped on Zephyr’s skin. Bruises from rough hands ringed his arms and collared his throat, and his lower lip had a split like it had been bitten, and not by him.
I didn’t wake him to ask about it, fairly certain it was something neither of us would benefit by discussing. Instead, I let him sleep through the drive and the elevator trip to the thirtieth floor, where I returned Colette’s jacket then carried Zephyr into my suite.