Chapter Thirty-Four
LOLA
“No!” I scream as Nic crumples, blood soaking from a garish wound at the juncture where his shoulder meets his neck.
Ostena lunges at me with the dagger, and Forsyth pelts my way with the pistol raised.
I drag in Nic’s magic—suddenly graspable again—and blast it at both of them. Not of pain, like I sent Ostena before, but sheer terror.
They falter, their weapons still raised. I increase the flow, ramming it at them with everything I am until they finally stumble backward, faces paling, eyes wide. Then they whirl and sprint out of the room.
I chase after them until I’m sure they’re truly gone, then rush to Nic’s side and roll him onto his back.
He gasps, blood speckling his lips. “Oh . . . hi, there.”
I pull my jacket off the floor where he discarded it earlier and press it to his wound, but it doesn’t soak up much blood. The flesh is already stitching itself back together, pink and raw but no longer bleeding.
“Oh, thank the gods,” I rasp, pressing my lips to his brow. “You’re not dying.”
“Are you sure?” He coughs, and I choke out a laugh.
But when his eyes meet mine, and his pale, bloodless face breaks into a weak smile, everything that happened moments ago comes rushing back.
The hoop, the kiss, the way he went rigid in my hands, the way he shoved off of me, jerking away as though I disgusted him.
And then when Ostena came in, brandishing a blade . . . he just stood there.
“What was that?” I ask, the smile slipping from my face.
“You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Just now. She was trying to kill me, and you . . . What were you waiting for?”
He opens his mouth as though to respond, but as has happened so many times before, the words get lodged in his throat. “It—” he attempts. Then, “I—” He grimaces and mops the blood off his mouth. “Blast it.”
“Try again,” I say, pity, hope, and fear battling inside me.
He closes his eyes, then gingerly pushes himself into a seated position, taking me into his lap, his arms tightening around my waist.
Finally, he tips his forehead against mine and says, “Laurel has magic, too.”
“I’m aware.”
“I—” Again, his tongue halts.
Frowning, I reach out and unhook my voratium glasses from his collar, sliding them back into place on my face. His eyes come into focus at once. Violet and sparkling and full of pain . . . but no pale, icy light.
“She was controlling you, wasn’t she?” I whisper. “That’s why you were behaving so off . . .”
His throat bobs as he swallows.
I push the lock of bluish-silver hair out of his face. “It’s just you now, right?”
That devilish grin I’ve missed so much curls the corner of one side of his mouth. “If I say yes, do I get another kiss?”
And I know it’s him—only him—because the careful, guarded tone is gone. It’s raw and teasing and so familiar I could cry.
I lean in and press my lips to his.
He kisses me back softly. A question. An ache. His hands trail up my back, bracing me against him, and they’re shaking—whether from blood loss or adrenaline or something else entirely, I cannot tell.
And the game is still going on, and the moonshard is still gathering his magic from the roof, and Estelle is somewhere out there waiting, and Ostena and Forsyth are likely going to tell my father I’m here, and all depths are about to break loose, but for just this moment, here in his arms with the taste of him on my mouth, I finally feel like everything might be all right, if only for a heartbeat.
He pulls back to smile at me, and it’s like the unfurling of stars at twilight. Slow and quiet and mesmerizing.
Nic’s here.
The relief is so intense, I can barely breathe. I grasp onto his forearms, squeezing my eyes shut so the tears gathering in them won’t fall. He traces my face, fingers skating along my jaw, drawing the shape of my lips, following the slope of my neck.
“Stay with me,” I whisper, clinging to him like I can keep him here. “Please?”
He squeezes me as though to reassure me. “Life cannot give guarantees, no matter how we may wish it could.”
He doesn’t know if he can stay. Perhaps he’s still battling Laurel’s hold, perhaps she’s fighting back, deep inside where I cannot see.
The thought wrenches a quiet sob from my throat.
He brushes a tear from my lashes. “Your game is spectacular, Nocturne,” he says softly. “As are your illusions. The Liar’s Den would be lucky to be run by a seaspawn of your caliber.”
“Seaspawn?” I reply with a coy smile. “How do you know my magic comes from the Deep? Maybe I’m actually starblessed. Sent by the gods to rule the world.”
He chuckles. “Starblesseds are not capable of kissing people the way you just kissed me. That was utter sin, little thief.”
The sound of the nickname draws contented goose bumps along every inch of my skin.
That’s how it’s supposed to sound, how it’s supposed to feel.
“Why don’t we find somewhere else to hide before Laurel shows up?” he says, leaning in to draw his lips along my jaw. “She’s not going to take kindly to being ejected from my body.”
“Okay,” I gasp, trembles chasing through me.
He pulls me upright, then bends to retrieve my discarded jacket. But as he rises, his attention snags on my wrist.
On my tattoo.
His smile fades. “You’re a Tentacle?”
“He’s all I have, Nic.”
“What about me?” His gaze raises to mine.
“You said no, remember?” The tears stinging in my eyes are hotter now, as though full of all the anger and pain I’ve had to keep at bay. “You told me what happened between us was a lie. You turned me away.”
“But you returned to him? Surely you knew better by that point.” His voice comes out harsh, echoing against the walls.
“Where else was I supposed to go?” I snap, jamming my arms into my sleeves and pulling the bloodstained jacket back on. “Honestly and truly, Nic, think for two seconds. I had no one else.”
“My brother kept you secluded and controlled. Surely living on your own would offer more freedom.”
“Freedom, maybe,” I say, viciously doing up the buttons. “But not answers.”
“So why did you not simply ask him your questions and leave?” That vein is pulsing in his temple again. “You didn’t need to join his starsdamned gang for that. You didn’t have to have him”—his nostrils flare—“branded into your skin.”
I finish my buttons and cross my arms over my chest, nerves starting to buzz under my skin.
Enzo’s clearly noticed the barrage of emotions I’ve experienced over the past quarter hour, but I don’t have time for his scrutiny, not now.
I shove him down. “It’s not a brand,” I snap at Nic. “It’s a tattoo.”
“Do you care about him still? After all the lies he told you? The way he manipulated and controlled you?” Nic’s words are slow and steady, but his fists clench so tightly his knuckles turn white. “You deserve so much better than that.”
I shake my head. “It’s not that simple.”
“It is, though.” He studies me for a moment. “Did you get your answers? Has he treated you better? Has he apologized at the very least?”
“He has. A thousand times,” I say quietly. “But no answers yet.”
“Why not?”
“It’s . . .” I swallow as the buzz in my skin intensifies, and I rub my palms over my arms, trying to make it go away. “The Unbreakable Lie, actually. I rolled it to make him believe I trust him.”
He squeezes his eyes shut. “You didn’t.” He raises a quivering hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You were warned . . .”
“Yeah,” I snap. “You said ‘be careful of the deception you sow . . . for it cannot be undone.’ Very nonspecific.”
“What else was that supposed to mean?” he asks.
“No.” I shake my head. “You could have said, ‘Hey, Lola, this die is going to force you to conform to whatever it thinks you need to do in order to keep the person you lied to from discovering you did so.’ Would have been a lot more helpful than your stupid riddles.”
“So you’re a Tentacle now. With no answers. And a curse.” He opens his eyes. “And you want me to take the blame for that?”
“Pretty much,” I snap, but the buzzing in my skin reaches a fever pitch, and all at once I realize what it is.
The Unbreakable Lie.
I jolt away from Nic, focusing on the bond with Enzo to see how close he is just as the door slams open again.
Enzo, Jade, Soren, Isla, and Arden spill into the room.
Enzo’s eyebrows rise, but Soren’s face goes red. He shoves past Enzo and stalks toward me. “What the depths—” he growls, “is going on here?”