Chapter 11 #3
His mouth twitched and he had to suppress the urge to grin, knowing it would only make her more sure of his mockery. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”
“I don’t know.” She folded her arms beneath her bust like a taunt. “What are you doing?”
Imagining the sounds you make when you come. He bit the inside of his cheek, tamping down the destructive urge to provoke her further until her chest heaved with outrage. “Buying candles.”
She sighed. “I guess the store’s only down the street.”
“No. I’m driving out to Arboreus.”
“Not the general store?”
“Not unless I want to buy some bullets.”
Her mouth dropped. “Jesus. Would she really shoot you?”
“Probably only a dirty look,” he conceded, thinking of the shotgun he knew she kept beneath the register and how many times he’d heard people claim that she’d threatened to use it on his sister. “But Odessa likes to fan the flames.”
That was his sister’s specialty—digging her fingers into old wounds just to see what would happen.
It had been that way since she was sixteen, when she’d gotten drunk and written “Jesus is risen” in electric green spray-paint over an incredibly crude depiction of an erect and hairy cock and balls.
Helena Peters had probably blessed the acetone she’d cleaned it with.
Cal stepped back, allowing space for retreat, and was pleased when Nadine stepped forward to follow him down the hall.
Her footfalls were soft and reverent, eclipsed by the creaking of the wooden boards as they walked past the rows of carefully framed portraits that glittered darkly against the gloss of wallpaper behind them.
“Her family has hated ours for decades” he mused, casting his eyes over the assembly of familiar faces, “and far more than most.”
She had pivoted herself automatically towards the front door but stopped as he spoke. “Why?”
Cal took her by the shoulders and turned her towards the narrow hall that led to the solarium. “One of her relatives was Caledon Cullraven’s first wife.”
Nadine shifted from foot to foot while he rummaged in the closet for the slickers. “Was that the one whose pictures he burned?”
“Yes.” He tossed one of the rain jackets at her in an easy underhand. “Jesamyn Peters.”
Her face was solemn. “I see.”
Cal wondered—again—how much she knew. How much she’d been told. When they were in that diner, the first question she’d asked was why they all still lived at home, which was something he was starting to question himself, more and more.
He cleared his throat, forcing a smile. “So, we’re buying candles in Arboreus. After you.”
Cold wind slammed against them as he opened the door, the rain having increased to a steady, pulsating thrum. The mud sucked greedily at the soles of their shoes as they slogged their way to the carriage house in silence. Nadine worried her lower lip between her teeth.
Cal found himself remembering how that lip had tasted, caught between his.
“I can’t imagine feeling that way about someone.” Nadine slid into his car with a familiarity that tugged at him. “I mean, building a house for them, and then burning parts of it to the ground when they die, and burying them beneath black flowers—who does that?”
“My family,” he said quietly.
She exhaled sharply and turned her face towards the rain-spotted window, shielding her thoughts. The sight of her bathed in the gray-green light of the storm, angled towards her misted reflection, made him think of the sparrow in his room trapped under glass.
I could let her go. The thought came to him unbidden, jagged as broken glass. Spare her.
Just as quickly, another thought came: But now, there’s no way out.
His thoughts hummed like an angry swarm of wasps as the clerk rang up his purchases.
Nadine, standing beside him, fiddled with the pockets of her jacket.
In their matching slickers, no one would assume that they weren’t a couple—that she wasn’t his.
And she could be, if he kept her here. If he made her realize that he was the only choice that could save her.
She wouldn’t have to choose if she was free.
No. Deep down, she had the same dark cravings, the same deep-seated need for control. If she fell in love with him, trusted him, then she would come to him again with that same look of fearful desire that had her falling to her knees before him last night.
But what if she didn’t? that voice whispered. What if that isn’t enough?
A chilling thought occurred to him.
What if Ben and his father had purposefully destroyed the road to keep her from escaping? To make sure that Nadine stayed for the festival—not as his sparrow, but as one of the deer?
What if his sister’s mocking words hadn’t been a taunt at all, but a warning?
(She can learn)
Nadine’s stomach growled. She folded her arms over her belly, looking embarrassed. A surge of affection blunted his bladed thoughts, and had him pushing aside his concerns. “Where do you want to go for lunch?”
She smiled shyly, her features relaxing. “Japanese?”
“I’m not sure we have such refinement here in the backwoods.
” He pulled out his phone, scrolling past a message from his boss.
The mountains weren’t exactly the best source of fresh fish so he was mildly surprised to see a restaurant less than ten miles away, with good ratings, no less.
“Apparently we do. How very metropolitan of us.”
“Don’t you work in the city?”
“I used to,” he lied. “Then I started working closer to home.”
“Doing pro bono?”
“Only in Argentum and not so much lately. It feels rather odd to demand payment from people who would swear on a bible that your family drinks blood.”
She made a face. “I’d charge double.”
“Would you?” He smiled, in spite of himself. “You seem too sweet for that.”
Nadine blushed. “I don’t like bullies.”
“Hm. That didn’t seem to be the case when you were antagonizing Ben the other night, little sparrow. That was very unwise of you.” It came out sharper than he intended and she drew herself up indignantly, hands planted on her hips.
“I just wouldn’t be so quick to write off the lives of someone I loved if it were me.”
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple. You don’t know what it’s like here for us. For her.”
You don’t know the fate that awaits you in those woods.
He gripped the wheel tighter. “You can’t save everyone.”
“Tell me the truth then. Is your family hiding something about Noelle? Or am I the only one who’s not allowed to lie?”
“Nadine,” he sighed.
Tell her.
End this now.
Let her go.
“Cal?” Her voice shot into his thoughts like an arrow. “What is it?”
Tell her.
“It’s nothing.” He shook himself, arranging his face into what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Let’s go.”
She tried to catch his eye but he avoided it deftly, keeping his sights trained dead ahead with the inclement weather providing the perfect excuse.
The restaurant was badly weathered and as he held the door open for her to enter, he clocked a veritable greenhouse’s worth of fake plants.
The waiter put them near the back, which suited his purposes just fine. This time, rather than sitting across from her, like he had at the diner, he sat next to her instead. It was a small booth: her thigh pressed right up against his, soft and firm, and temptingly close to his right hand.
She tugged off her slicker with quick, agitated movements that made her necklace swing back and forth over her cleavage.
Flipping through the badly xeroxed menu, he took in the brightly colored fish and sauces, and thought this had the bitter pall of a last meal.
“Get whatever you want,” he told her.
“Okay.” She stilled her necklace, fingers closing around the N. “Thank you.”
“Thomas says you haven’t been eating lunch.”
“You’ve asked him about me?”
Darling, I have an entire dossier on you. He toyed with the fish-shaped bottle of soy sauce. “Let’s just say you’re relevant to my interests.”
Let her puzzle over that, he thought, as the waiters took their orders.
“I’m surprised you’ve never tried to order for me.” She pushed down on a glass marble to open her bright pink drink. “Isn’t that supposed to be a hotshot rich guy move?”
“I figured you’d know what’s best for your needs.”
“Y-yeah, that’s true. But some people, um, don’t see it that way.”
Again, that flash of chagrin. Her eyes slid from his but not before he caught the glimpse of pain in them. Beyond her was a window, bare of shutters. The rain showed no sign of stopping, sloshing down the glass in thick runnels. Its watery reflection rippled over her skin.
“I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“Really?”
“Just because I’m a lawyer, you think I don’t have a heart?” It came out heavier than he wanted, charged by his mounting frustration. “I do like you, Nadine. Despite what you might think.”
He put his hand on her thigh, smoothing over her jeans. They were soft, worn; she must like this pair a lot—they molded to her like a glove. She inhaled sharply as he ran his fingers along the inner seam, pushing just hard enough to feel her heat.
When the waiter arrived with their dishes, he slid his palm down, just above her knee.
Her red face made her look adorably guilty.
He poured some sake for her—although since he did it one-handed, he supposed this would be considered rude.
Which was appropriate, since he felt like being rude.
Particularly if it kept her cheeks flushed and heated.
“I’m not going to apologize for being rough with you, though,” he said, in a quiet undertone that made her eyes swing towards him in alarm. “Because I think we both know how much you didn’t mind.”
Her mouth dropped. She quickly swiveled around to look for their waiter, though Cal had, of course, already checked to make sure that the man was no longer in earshot. “Don’t talk about that in here,” she hissed. “Someone might hear you!”
Cal chuckled. “You didn’t seem very concerned about who heard you last night.”
He didn’t think it was possible, but her cheeks darkened further. “You chased me.”