Chapter 10
Damen POV
I’d gone too far. At first, I’d been so hopeful—finally, she was letting me know her true feelings, and I thought we might have been getting somewhere. But then she’d shut down, and my stomach dropped as she’d fled the conversation. It was something that Mu would never have done.
But as Bianca said, she wasn’t Mu.
Not yet.
I pressed my chin over my forearms and stared into the burning firepit. Everything had gotten so fucked up, and it was entirely my fault.
Mu always pointed out my faults, my weaknesses. I should have been used to this.
Why, then, did it feel so much different? How was I supposed to approach her?
“As much as it pains me to say this, you could always just be yourself,” Julian said.
I glanced up, startled. I wasn’t aware I’d spoken my last thought out loud.
“You’ve been muttering again,” Julian told me.
He was sitting across the fire as he angrily poked a sharp stick into the flames.
His fevered ferocity reminded me of how once, in a past life, he’d tried to stab me in the heart.
Thankfully, we’d grown past our rivalry.
Befriending the necromancer had been a good decision—he sometimes gave wise counsel.
Not as good as Miles, though, who was the reason we were here. Nor Bianca, who was the cause of my current distress. But beggars couldn’t be choosers.
“Be myself?” I clarified. I wasn’t sure how that would help anything.
“Not your usual self.” Julian gritted, stabbing the fire even harder. “For the love of God, do not be your usual self. Be your real self. Why can’t you swallow your pride and be honest? You’re way over the top. You know she hates theatrics.”
“She likes it when I take care of her,” I pointed out. “And when I flirt.”
Julian rolled his eyes, tossed the charred stick into the flames, and snatched another from the ground. He flipped open his pocketknife and began to cut into his newest acquisition. “For some reason ,” he began, gritting his teeth, “she says she likes it—”
“She does like it,” I interrupted. “She blushes.”
“—but you need to tone it down. I’ve told you this before.”
“But—”
“You made her angry,” Titus interjected from his lounging position. He moved his forearm from his eyes as he looked at me accusingly.
“That’s fine. She needed to get angry.” I frowned at him. “She was going to internalize her emotions until she made herself sick. She finally admits that something happened, at least, so now it’s time to move past avoidance.”
“In her own time ,” Julian said. “That was what you told me when we first realized she’d been abused.”
I felt myself tense. “That was then,” I told him. “Now that we know the true extent of it, we’ve no choice but to intervene. The truth is far worse than we previously assumed, and she has not been getting any better since she was first adopted.”
“But she wasn’t upset about her past,” Titus added. “She was angry about the way you’ve been treating her.”
“Great job,” Julian echoed sarcastically.
“You can’t just make her angry for any random reason,” Titus said, rolling to his side.
“You’ve been studying humans forever, yet you’ve learned nothing.” Julian had decided his new stick was pointy enough and returned to stabbing at the kindling. “I’m amazed you’re about to get your doctorate.”
“Ha-ha.” I frowned at them. How dare they bring up my shame. “It’s not like you two are any better. We’re all behind in our training.”
Julian sighed, his movements stilling. “We need Miles to step up.”
“I thought you were afraid.” Titus shot Julian a surprised look. “Wasn’t that why you were happy he left?”
“I wasn’t afraid, and I wasn’t happy he left.” Julian pointed his stick at Titus. “Bianca was upset.”
“But you don’t want him to get stronger either,” Titus pointed out. “You love having free reign, and you know he’ll put a stop to your little party.”
“Mind your business,” the necromancer calmly replied. “While I prefer things this way, it doesn’t mean I can’t adapt.”
Before I could interject, the eerie hoot of a great-horned owl sounded through the forest, the first sound beside us in a while. Bianca had been quiet since disappearing, and I’d hesitated to bother her.
We had a rule—one that had worked well for us over many lifetimes—and it was that unless there were no other choice, we would never intervene with or undermine each other’s relationship with Mu. Our relationship as a quintet was entirely different than our relationships as individuals.
I sighed and fought the urge to go to her. Would she even talk to me?
“Fix this.” Julian threw the broken sticks into the fire, pushing himself to his feet, and the glower he threw in my direction would have struck fear into the heart of a lesser man. “Or you won’t even get the chance to live to regret it. We’re going on patrol.”
Titus also stood, pressing his hands against his lower back as he stretched. Then, the two of them disappeared into the forest, lingering nearby but far enough to give us privacy.
I glanced at the tent, my chest swelling with a foreign and unwelcome energy.
Was I nervous? Impossible.
Maybe it was too soon; she’d wanted to be left alone. I couldn’t barge in there now—
Then, as though the gentle wind had brought it directly to me, I heard it.
A low sniffle.
Damn it, she was crying. I shouldn’t be surprised, but the sound caused my hair to stand on end and my teeth to clench so tightly I thought they might break.
What the hell was I doing?
I grabbed one of the still-rolled-up sleeping bags and an extra lantern and made my way to the tent. This wasn’t the time to be a coward. We had to clear the air between us.
“Bianca.” I knelt at the opening, using my free hand to grope around for the zipper. “I’m coming in.”
“G-g-go away.” Her voice shook, and the sound tore at me. Every stutter was a reminder of my failures.
This was ultimately my fault.
Bianca was right to question our past connection. I should have known that something wasn’t right with Bailey, and I should have felt that she was in danger. The fact that she’d had to live through any of it was my failure.
“I can’t do that.” I sucked in a breath, steeling my courage, and unzipped the tent with one quick movement. I couldn’t let her shut me out again.
The soft light from the fire barely touched the recesses of her shelter, throwing her form into shadows. But what I could see was enough to melt away the last of my pride.
Bianca was curled into a ball on the opposite end of the tent. My heart tore at the sight.
I crawled through the opening, re-zipping the entrance behind me, and turned to her.
The sight of her tears made something dark and ancient stir within me. The protective rage I constantly fought to contain threatened to break free. Large, wounded eyes peered at me, and I was suffocating at the sight of her tears.
Her gaze held no accusation or annoyance, though I’d expected it. There was no more fight left to her. Instead, she just looked tired.
“I’m sorry,” I said as, once again, the foreign words escaped. I wasn’t used to apologizing, and I found myself doing it more often than not with her.
I dropped the blanket and lantern to the side and knelt in front of her, holding out my hand.
I longed to hold her, but our relationship had changed so much—even since she first entered our group.
Since finding out about her past, I had become more cautious and wary, and I restrained myself unless she signaled she was receptive.
But right now, I wasn’t sure she even liked me anymore.
My heart pounded, and my mouth was dry. Why wasn’t she responding? Her attention remained fixed on my hand, but she didn’t move to accept.
“I’m an idiot.” I glared at the ground between us. I’d ruined everything.
Bianca’s voice was so soft that I almost missed it. “You’re not an idiot.”
I lifted my eyes, meeting hers. She hadn’t moved, but the darkness was fading from her expression.
“I know you think I am,” I offered, unable to hold back my grin. “You’ve always been able to spot the holes in my logic.”
“I still don’t think you’re an idiot .” Bianca blinked, curling further into herself. “I think you do things without thinking of all the details. There’s a difference.”
Embarrassment spread through my chest, and I ran my hand over my neck.
“That’s what I need you for,” I admitted.
“You do.”
She could have at least hesitated, even briefly…
“I jump to conclusions a lot,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I’m trying to work on it. I don’t understand what you mean by…” Her words trailed off, and she grimaced, guilt radiating from her every pore.
My internal alarms blared; she was hiding something.
What didn’t she understand?
“Never mind.” She glanced away.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“It’s okay,” she said, closing in on herself again.
The fight fled from me. Whatever this was, it was a different battle. One that we could focus on later. This matter needed to be cleared up first.
I couldn’t let Bianca run from this. Right now, this was an issue of safety.
“I am sorry, but I do need to ask again.” And I really was regretful, but I couldn’t just let this one go. “Can we go over what happened before the argument?”
She sucked in a breath, her eyes refilling with unshed tears.
“I meant it when I said you had nothing to be ashamed of,” I told her, hoping she caught my statement’s honesty. “About anything. However, I don’t understand why you apologized when discussing scars. Are they self-inflicted?”
I needed to know, because if this was an ongoing issue…
“It’s o-only one,” she replied and shivered. “And I-I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
“Tell me.” My breath seized in anticipation, especially as she wrapped her fingers around my wrist.
She didn’t respond right away, and my heart skipped as she suddenly reached for me.
There was my invitation.
I laid in front of her and pulled her against me, but her shivering didn’t subside even after I’d wrapped the blanket around her.