Chapter 13
LOUIS
Compassion is the basis of morality. — Arthur Schopenhauer
The trick to poison is knowing when to let it show; at least that was my current theory.
She had no clue I already had a bit of a tolerance anyways.
I’d taken the vial hours earlier. Not enough to drop me.
Just enough to give my body something to argue with.
Tempest watched everyone at this party like a hawk pretending to be a dove, and I let her believe the dosage was under control.
It wasn’t.
I stood at her side while we continued to make small talk, close enough to feel the tension rolling off her like angry waves crashing against rocks during a storm. She smelled like citrus and steel. Sweet on the surface. Dangerous underneath.
Perfectly deadly. A mix many a man would kill for.
My stomach twisted—not violently, but convincingly. Sweat prickled at the base of my neck. My vision narrowed just enough to sell it.
I leaned close, my lips pressed against her neck like I was kissing rather than confessing. God her skin felt nice and cool against my mouth. “I think I’m going to puke.”
Her head snapped toward me. “What?”
“Either that,” I murmured, keeping my voice low, “or I pass out in front of your entire family. Your call. The last thing we need is your mom making me concoctions to strengthen my vigor and all-around dick health.” Her fingers caught my wrist instantly. Steady. Controlled. A little too tight.
“We’ll be right back,” she said flatly, already moving, interrupting one of the cousins who was going on and on about her latest art presentation at Eagle Elite University.
We cut through the house fast. I let my steps falter just enough that she had to support me.
She hated that part—hated needing to touch me when she didn’t know whether she wanted to push me away or pull me closer.
The door closed behind us. Silence swallowed the noise of the party.
I leaned against the counter, breathing through my mouth, letting the nausea crest… then fade.
She reached for the sink. “I told you not to—”
“I’m not sick,” I said.
She froze.
I straightened slowly. “Or maybe I was.” I looked at her, really looked. “Maybe I just needed water. Or you. Or both.”
Her eyes darkened. “What are you doing?”
“Testing a theory,” I said softly.
I moved before she could stop me.
The kiss wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t desperate either. It was controlled—mouth to mouth, breath shared, just enough pressure to blur lines without crossing them. Her body stiffened, then betrayed her with a half-breath she didn’t mean to take.
That was when the door opened.
“Well,” Dante drawled, surveying the scene like he’d walked in on a crime he’d expected. “Can you two be newlyweds anywhere but my office?”
Tempest swore under her breath.
I grinned and did the most infuriating thing I could think of.
I slid my hand to her ass and squeezed.
Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. Shit, she was going to kill me later, wasn’t she? The question was… would it be entertaining? Yes. Yes it would.
“But she’s so tempting,” I said easily. “Weird you named her Tempest, don’t you think, Dante?”
Dante’s smile was a deadly force. I wouldn’t wish that sort of politeness on my worst enemy. “Weird you think I won’t slit your throat just because she said yes to you.”
I met his gaze without blinking. “You could try.”
Tempest elbowed me hard in the ribs. “Enough.”
Dante’s eyes flicked between us. Calculating. Measuring. Then he waved a hand. “Get out of my office before I actually do something I regret.”
A dismissal. We didn’t wait for further permission.
Once the door shut behind us, Tempest shoved me into the hallway wall. “You used me.”
I smiled faintly. “You married me.”
“That doesn’t make me your cover.”
“It does,” I said quietly, “when everyone’s watching.”
She stared at me like she wanted to peel me apart and see what made me tick.
“You weren’t sick,” she said.
“No,” I admitted. “But they think I was. And that was the point.”
She exhaled sharply. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
I leaned in, just close enough that only she could hear me. “So are you.”
Her jaw tightened. “You think this makes me trust you?”
“No,” I said. “I think it makes them underestimate me.”
Her eyes flicked toward the party. Toward Cassian’s shadow. Toward the men who thought they knew exactly what I was.
Good.
Because none of them were looking at the right thing.
As we walked back, my stomach twisted again—this time for real. The poison hadn’t finished with me yet. But pain was useful. Pain sharpened focus.
Revenge required patience.
And Tempest?
She was going to be the most dangerous part of all. “We were in his office he’s going to either suspect you, think I’m on your side, or that something’s wrong. You don’t just go into my dad’s office without a reason and—”
“You did,” I pointed out. “You didn’t even hesitate, you took me to a safe space, a place nobody is allowed to even visit, nobody but yourself. Maybe you should ask yourself why you would risk it for someone you’re using for revenge, someone you wanted to marry for your own purposes.”
She opened her mouth then slammed another glass vial into my palm. “Bottoms up. We have three more days before the meeting, don’t make me regret choosing you.”
"I would never.” I held up the vial. “This is fun, you know, slowly poisoning myself before I meet a family that may just end me for sport. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
"You just need to get in. Once you’re in, I have power, control, intel—“
"And what intel do you really want, Tempest? What’s so important for you to find?” I’d try until the day of the meeting, until the last hour.
"I wouldn’t tell you even if you set me on fire, Louis.”
“And if I kissed it out of you, would you tell me then?”
"We should go home so you can shit your pants in privacy.”
I rolled my eyes. “Romantic you are not.”
"Crapping you will be.” She stomped ahead of me.
I had no choice but to follow.
And I hated that I had an amused smile the entire way. It wasn’t until we passed Raven that it faltered. Her hand holding Ace’s, her hand touching her own stomach, my heart skipped a bit.
I thought I’d loved her.
I'd died for her.
And now I was with her sister getting slowly poisoned, yeah, some guys just really get all the luck.
My phone pinged once I was outside. Cassian.
"You’ll need some Pepto for this one, cheers, three days, mate, let the games begin!”
We didn’t make it home though and the more I thought about the word the more uncomfortable I felt that when I thought of it—it was her face I saw.