Chapter Twenty-Four
The ride to the Avalon was tense. I turned my attention out the window, watching the streets pass by in a blur of color and life. Lachlan stared at the road ahead, and I wondered if he saw any of it. If he saw the city he ran but barely knew. A king outside his kingdom, trying to hold on to control while the world changed, and it slipped through his fingers like grains of sand.
My hands remained in my lap, my index finger stretching as I tried to ease the vibration I still felt from the gun’s recoil, but it was nothing compared to the bruising ache in my palm. I hated the reminder that the barrier between life and death was so thin. I hated how violence kept seeping into the cracks between my two worlds. I hated knowing what the decision to pull the trigger felt like.
And I especially hated that part of me wanted to feel it again.
Twilight had fallen when we reached the exposed parking lot attached to the Avalon, overhead stars winking between the thick storm clouds rolling in. He pulled past the gate to a private area where a dozen sleek cars like this one were parked. Range Rovers and Mercedes and Audis, each one of them black. A fleet of vehicles for a shadow court. A single yellow Porsche was the only spot of color in the lot.
He appeared at my door and opened it, refusing to look at me as I climbed out. He hadn’t spoken a word to me on the drive home. He hadn’t pressed the issue—hadn’t tried to force that gun on me, either.
The night had cooled considerably, but the balmy air was heavy with a humidity that prophesied rain. I leaned against the Mercedes and drank in the earthy scent.
He pushed the door closed behind me. “I suppose there’s no point in asking you to be careful this evening.”
Lach was like a busted faucet—hot and cold and constantly getting me unexpectedly wet. I crossed my arms over my chest. “That is actually a reasonable request.” I hesitated for a moment. “Will you come with us?”
He finally looked at me, his gloomy mood slipping a little.
“Not because I need protection,” I added quickly before he got the wrong idea. Because maybe he was right about the bargain—about the likelihood that I would break it. I wasn’t ready to consider if he was right about whether or not I was trying. “Just so you don’t waste your whole night smoking cigars and measuring your dick.”
He cleared his throat, glancing over at the hotel as though he had not for one moment considered coming before now. “Just take the 9-millimeter with you.”
“God, it’s not like there are random villains lurking in every shadow just waiting to snatch me up. Ciara will be there. And Shaw.” And apparently, they were both well prepared to handle any issues.
“And you will still be safer if you take the gun.”
I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. “I already explained that I’m not comfortable with it.” When his scowl deepened, I added, “Yet.”
“I told you that you were a natural.” He crossed his arms, his shirt pulling against his powerful muscles.
“Being good at it and being okay with that are two different things.” I rubbed my bruised palm with my other hand. “I’m a nurse. I’m supposed to save people. Not hurt them.”
“Protecting yourself is saving someone.” His teeth clenched as his glamour lifted entirely. “You have to compromise on something, princess. So which is it—protect yourself or be protected?”
A shiver snaked up my spine, like my entire body felt my life being pulled into two directions. It would always be that way with him, I realized, and I had to decide if that was something I could live with if I didn’t break this bargain. Or if that division was as inescapable as the deal I’d made in the first place.
“Like I said, plenty of people will be with me. Nothing’s going to happen.”
His gaze coasted over my necklace, down my body, and landed on my hand, but he didn’t speak. Probably because he knew I was right. Eventually, he said, “That attitude is exactly why I’m worried. You have no idea what some of my kind are capable of, and there are dozens of fae from other courts in this city right now. You’re not really safe unless—”
“Oh. Here we go!”
“I’m there,” he finished.
I rolled my eyes. “Then come. I already invited you.”
“I can’t,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Why? Because people might get the wrong idea?” I fought to keep my voice steady. “I know I’m not your type, but who cares what they think?”
A muscle worked in his jaw. “That’s not what this is about. If I’m not around—”
“What? You want me to lock myself inside and cower in fear? Or be prepared to shoot them?” I shook my fists in the air just as the first raindrops splattered my face. I swiped at the moisture. “There’s a whole lot of middle ground there!”
“I want you to have fun!” He slammed his fist onto the roof of what I assumed was a very expensive car and dented it. He didn’t seem to notice. “I want to know that if I’m not around you aren’t being dragged into a dark corner because you take every warning and piece of advice I give you as an invitation to do the exact opposite just to piss me off,” he growled.
Because last night he had found me in a dark corner, completely blitzed on ambrosia.
“This is still about Oberon,” I realized. Did the divide between the light and shadow courts run so deeply that he couldn’t trust any of them?
“What if it is?” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I made it clear that you were not on the table, and he waited until my back was turned.”
My eyes widened, a slow smile tipping up one corner of my mouth. “You’re jealous,” I said. Not annoyed that I’d gotten a little too drunk on ambrosia. Not worried that I’d been in some kind of danger. He was jealous. Rain beat down harder, but I wasn’t leaving this spot until he admitted it. I would fucking drown here before that happened. “You’re mad that I was in a dark corner with Oberon.”
He glared at me. “That’s not what this is about. You may dance with whomever you wish, fuck whomever you wish, laugh, flirt, as long as you know what you’re doing, and last night, you were out of your mind.”
He did not get to rewrite this. Not without admitting why he was being a hypocrite. “You told me to let loose.”
“I did!” he exploded. “Because I never thought you…”
“What? Finish that sentence, Gage.”
He took a step closer, backing me toward the car. “Tell me, princess, how would you have felt if you’d woken up in my bed this morning? Because you were absolutely begging me for it.”
I flushed, knowing it was true, and then zeroed in on a new target.
“I guess it’s good that I’m not your type.” I threw his words back at him. I’d lost track of how many times I had done so. It was childish to cling to it, but for some reason I couldn’t let go of what he’d said that first night we met. Even if maybe…he’d known I was terrified that he’d planned to do more than take my soul. Even if he’d said it because there was no other way to ease my fear. Or maybe he was just as riddled with unwanted hormones and feelings as I was. But I was tired of holding my breath to see if he would take it back or if he meant it. “Although, I suppose you’ve made it clear that you’re willing to look past that minor inconvenience.”
His eyes went wild, his nostrils flaring. “You don’t know when to stop, do you?”
His tone left little room for doubt about what he thought.
The problem was…he was probably right. I lifted my chin. “I repeat, I guess it’s a good thing that I’m not—”
“So help me Gods, if you say you’re not my type again,” he snarled. I was pressed against the glass now, so close that we were sharing the same breath, so close that my breasts grazed his chest, so close that I could not tell if that was his heart racing or mine. I braced one hand against the rain-soaked car, the other flattening across his lower abdomen, torn between pushing him away and running my fingers over the flat plane beneath them. He didn’t break eye contact, his forehead nearly resting on my own as he placed a hand over the one on his stomach and gently encouraged it lower. He didn’t force it, and he didn’t have to—not when I so badly wanted to touch him. Not when I’d been thinking about it since last night into today, long after the ambrosia was out of my system. Because the tension that stretched between us wasn’t the bargain. It wasn’t the muddled effects of fairy wine. It was edged and honed as if every moment we spent together had been sharpening into something too dangerous for either of us to ignore. I moved my hand lower, my palm drifting over the undeniably, heart-stoppingly hard length of him.
He gritted his teeth. “Does that feel like you’re not my type?”
My entire body heated as my fingers stroked over him, realizing Lachlan could back up every smirking, arrogant, egotistical thing he had ever said to me. I wondered how many cameras the hotel had on the parking lot, on the row of expensive cars, on the one I was pressed against at the moment. How many guards were monitoring us right now. I hoped they enjoyed the show. Because I didn’t think I could make it farther than the hood of the Mercedes before I needed him inside me. His lip curled as if he knew exactly what I was thinking.
“I already dented it. Might as well see what other damage we can do.”
Apart from showing up at the Avalon, this was quite possibly the stupidest, most reckless thing I’d ever considered doing in my life—and I was already considering doing it twice. He leaned in so close that his dark lashes fluttered across my skin. His mouth slanted, and…the black security door to the hotel banged open.
“Everything okay out here? Need any help?” Roark called over, amusement coloring his voice.
“No.” It wasn’t so much a word as it was a command—or, rather, a growl.
“I thought you might be having trouble getting back to court, since you’re just out here in the rain,” Roark continued a bit too gleefully to believe his intentions.
Lachlan never looked away from me, his gaze holding mine. “We. Are. Not.”
I was going to drown in those eyes. But whether it was Roark’s presence or some latent sense of self-preservation, I managed to tear myself free from them. Lachlan didn’t try to stop me as I ducked beneath the cage of his arms. Neither of us was ready to give in. Neither of us wanted to be wrong when our lives were bound together. Not when I still didn’t know why he’d made that bargain. Not while my unease grew that I wouldn’t like the answer if I figured it out.
But as I raced for the door, trying and failing to dodge more rain despite already being soaked, I knew we were an inevitability—as undeniable as the crash of thunder after lightning shatters the sky.