Chapter 34 #2
“Put your hands here,” he murmured, positioning me like a puppet. I leaned in despite myself, closing what little space was left, and the ache in my chest flared.
He tilted his head back toward my ear, voice soft but venomous. “Did I mention it costs extra to touch?”
This was penance. Punishment. And it hurt. It bruised me to be shoved against the walls he’d built around himself while being so viscerally reminded of a time they weren’t there.
Was it only yesterday when things had been right? It felt like weeks had passed since then.
“Now,” he breathed, all sugar again. “What were you saying, hon?”
I couldn’t recall.
I stayed as he’d placed me, soaking up his heat through the layers between us. My palms flattened over his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath and thumbing over the bead of his nipple ring where it tented the fabric. My cock twitched with interest, but guilt dragged it right back down.
While we sat, he moved. Subtly, sensually, keeping up the illusion of a show.
His tail traced slow lines against my calf, and his hands tucked under my thighs as he swayed to the beat pulsing through the glass.
I had no way of knowing how long he meant to keep it up or how much either of us could take before something cracked.
I was the first to give in, swallowing against the knot in my throat before forcing the words out. “I’m sorry.”
Darby shifted again, gliding his hands up his own body and dragging me along like I was part of the act. “Is that all?”
“There’s more,” I said quickly. “There is. But please, you need to understand, I didn’t have a choice.”
He went still, giving me a chance I couldn’t afford to waste.
“The angels broke into my house,” I went on.
“Antonella, Stefano, and Narcissus. They were waiting for me. I shot one of them, but then he just… sat up. Like nothing happened. They had Molly’s photo,” I continued, racing to get through it before he stopped me.
“The one from my fridge. They told me I had to choose between her and you, and…”
I pulled a hand away from him and scrubbed at my cheeks, stubble rasping over my palm while I tried to find any other way to explain. But there was none, so I shook my head helplessly.
Darby just sat there, a weight in my lap turned to stone. I needed to see his face, to know what he was thinking, but when he finally spoke, I was not prepared to weather the chill in his voice.
“So you’re saying you did have a choice.”
The words moved me, forward and up. My hands found his waist, and I lifted him off me so we were both standing. He spun around, ready with a reprimand, but I beat him to it.
“Fuck, Darby,” I sputtered. “I thought you, of all people, would understand. It was my daughter.”
Something flickered across his expression—pity or maybe pain—then his chin lifted, and he regarded me with narrow eyes. “That’s not my name.”
“Yes it is!” I shot back. “I know who you are, and I know it isn’t this.” I gestured at the costume, the corset, the armor. “This isn’t you.”
Darby’s jaw tightened, and his tail flicked, betraying the agitation he was too controlled to show anywhere else. He took a step back to expand the space between us. “You don’t know a damn thing about who I am,” he said quietly.
“I know the things you’ve told me,” I countered.
“They were true, weren’t they? You’re an only child.
From Chicago. You can juggle.” I couldn’t help the smile that slanted my face.
“You can quote Cinderella, and I bet you see yourself in her just like you see yourself in your mother. She taught you about love, and it must have been a hell of a lesson because I’ve never met anyone who loves like you do.
It’s fierce and full of passion, and everyone you share it with is damn lucky. ”
He looked at me like I was something dangerous, and maybe I was. But I couldn’t stop. Not when the truth was right there, caught behind my teeth.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated, and then I said it again. “I’m sorry I made you feel like you needed this. Like you have to hide from me, or from the world. You’re a remarkable person, and you shouldn’t have to hide behind a fake name just to survive.”
For all my effort—an offering, a fucking outpouring, Darby didn’t relent. His eyes blazed like twin flames, so molten I would have sworn they produced actual heat.
“There is nothing fake about this, Mercer.” He gestured to the whole of his petite figure. “I made this. I chose it. I won’t be pitied for it, I won’t be judged, and I won’t be made into a fool for you or anyone else.”
The words pulled on something loose in me, and suddenly everything was unraveling. “Darby—”
“No!” He jabbed a finger toward me. “I tried to leave. I wanted to stop this, but you asked me to stay and I… I begged you not to…”
Suddenly I was back in my room, sitting in bed, waiting for him to come out of the bathroom. Remembering how quiet it was and how vulnerable I’d felt. Weak and needing assurance. Wondering why he would run away when everything in me called out for him.
“Not to what?” I asked. “You never said before. What do you want from me?”
His throat worked, and he tugged on the hem of his apron while his gaze cut away. “I don’t want to be hurt, Mercer,” he replied. “I have been. Too many times. And I needed you to be different, but you…” He shook his head. “You’re just like the rest of them.”
“I promise, I’m not. I see you, Darby.”
I reached for him, desperate to close the distance, but he flinched back with a sharp breath that stoked his fire.
“I told you,” he seethed. “Darby’s not fucking here right now.”
I’d asked for this.
I invaded this place then tricked him into facing me. He was justified in his anger, and maybe I’d only made things worse. Maybe I’d advanced when I should have retreated.
After a moment, I slumped and dropped my hands to my sides. “Okay,” I relented. “Luxe, then. Tell me about him. What’s his story? What are his truths?”
Darby faltered. His mouth popped open and words trickled out. “He’s… I…”
A knock at the door shattered the moment. The waitress had returned with a loaded tray balanced on her palm. Seven different drinks were crowded in rim to rim.
“Oh, sorry,” she murmured. “It didn’t look like you were—”
“You need to go,” Darby said. I would have thought he was talking to her if his gaze hadn’t been locked on mine.
The poor girl gave a befuddled blink. “Who—”
“Both of you,” Darby clarified.
He snatched my credit card from the tray the waitress held and thrust it at me. “I’ll reverse the charges. I don’t want money or anything else from you.”
I stared at the card then at him, realizing too late that what he was actually returning wasn’t plastic at all. It was everything I’d given him: trust, hope, and the pieces of myself he’d so beautifully held together.
He made me feel whole.
Did he know that?
Should I say?
“I love you.”
I heard it, spoken in my own voice, too late to take back.
Not that.
God, not that. Not now.
Darby gaped at me, jaw slack and orange eyes wide. Then his tail drooped. Its barbed tip dragged the floor as he stood there, holding out the credit card.
I didn’t apologize this time because I wasn’t sorry at all. I simply held my ground while Darby drew an unsteady breath.
“Don’t,” he said, voice barely holding. “Don’t do that.”
I wanted to tell him it wasn’t a tactic, it wasn’t manipulation, it was just one final truth, something I owed him—but the look on his face stopped me cold.
“You need to go,” he said again, firmer now. “Please, Mercer. Just go.”
The please gutted me more than the rest.
Beside us, the waitress shifted uncertainly. Her cheap costume horns tilted as she lingered, caught in the crossfire.
Finally, Darby acknowledged her and jerked his chin toward the door.
“We won’t be needing the drinks,” he said.
She bolted.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. Then I stepped forward and took the card from his hand. Our fingers brushed, and a tremor passed from him to me.
There was nothing left to say, so I pocketed the useless bit of plastic and turned toward the door. My reflection ghosted across the glass wall as I passed.
Outside, the music hit me like a slap. I stood on the catwalk, feeling the world move past, and then I let it carry me away.