Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
LANZ
“Gwenna,” I say, breathless, “Hi.”
I’m…overwhelmed. Flustered. I can’t believe I did it, can’t believe I pulled off foil at the last minute like that, and against Drummond from Sainte-Odile, who’s a senior and no slouch.
But my excitement fades, plummets , as soon as I take her in.
“Gwenna,” I say again. “What’s wrong?”
She shakes her head, says nothing. But her eyes are red and swollen, her expression tight, and her hair is hanging damp over her shoulders.
“Nothing,” she manages at last. She tips her chin up to face me, and it’s even more obvious that she’s lying. “It was just…”
Realization hits like a sledgehammer. My voice turns to stone. “What did they do to you?”
She presses her lips together. Lets out a shuddering breath. Mutters something I can’t hear.
I lean in, heart pounding. “Say again,” I ask gently.
“I said, what didn’t they do?” She hugs her arms around herself, slowly shaking her head back and forth. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”
Adrenaline, pure and uncut and already primed from my time on the strip, surges in my veins. “Those bastards,” I grind out. “I’m going to kill them. I’m going to?—”
“Wait!”
She reaches, grabs at my wrist, and just the brush of her fingers is enough to hold me in place.
I wait.
“Don’t,” she says. “You’ll…it’ll just make it worse.”
I clench my jaw. “No. Not if I make it clear that?—”
“ Lanz ,” she says, and her voice is so firm and resolute that it startles me. “Please.”
No sooner does she get the word out than a fresh round of tears takes her over.
“I…Gwenna.” Everything in me slackens, collapses, desperate in my need to comfort her, and before I can think, I’ve wrapped my arms around her, taking her shaking form to my chest and holding her still.
And she lets me.
I am more awake and alive and alert than I think I’ve ever been. My entire being is focused on being here, with her, for her. Slowly, gradually, I lift a hand to stroke the back of her head, and my fingertips meet damp hair, snarled in tangles so fierce I almost hiss at the sensation.
Gwenna startles. Like it hurts her.
Like I hurt her.
Just by touching her head.
“I—” My heart rate skyrockets. Thinking now she’ll push away.
But she doesn’t.
Just rests her head back against my chest.
Breathes in. Out. In.
And fuck me, but it’s intoxicating.
“Shh,” I say. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
Nothing else matters. Nothing else exists—not fencing, not Camlann House, not the vow or the quest or anything beyond this girl and whatever she needs that I can give her.
I want to hold her tighter, deeper in my arms, stroking her head and keeping her safe for as long as she needs. As long as she’ll let me.
“I…God.” She pushes away, gently, scrubs at her eye as she slowly shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess. I’m…I’m fine.”
“You don’t have to be fine,” I murmur. That gets me another head shake, firmer.
“I do,” she insists, “and I am. Now.” She exhales. Blinks. Looks up at me, and her expression shifts, just the smallest bit, like she’s just now piecing together what just happened. “I…you…” She blinks again. “Oh my God. I’m throwing this…this pity party and I didn’t even say congratulations.”
A pang grabs at my chest. Who cares about my stupid fencing victory? I want to say. I would’ve forfeited the whole season just to keep you from feeling like this.
But a smile breaks across her face, so genuine and excited, that I can’t help but feel excited too.
“Granted, I know zero percent about fencing,” she says, giving a watery laugh. “But that was…” She shakes her head. “Wow.”
“Yeah?” I can’t help but ask.
“I mean, it was, and you were…” She shakes her head. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
I can’t handle it. Can’t handle even the barest words of praise from her.
My heart is pounding. My head is pounding with being near her, with the thrill of actual, literal victory, victory that I claimed with my sword.
And standing there, even in the dim light of the field house hallway, she looks…radiant. Looks every inch the woman destined to break my heart and leave me to die.
Ever since I learned about the Dell’Acqua curse, I’d imagined what she’d look like—the woman who’d be my undoing.
I always figured she would be beautiful, but in a sort of generic sense.
Some vague assemblage of supermodel parts, bouncy hair, clear skin, white teeth.
But now that she’s here and real and flesh and blood, she’s different. Not what I expected, or knew I wanted.
She’s better. She’s everything.
And as I look at her, my mind starts spinning with excuses. Explanations.
I have to. I had to. I couldn’t not.
It’s too much. My traitorous body seizes control.
I pull her to me, lift her chin, and kiss her.
The instant our lips touch, I know it’s wrong. Know that this is indeed what will damn me for all eternity.
But my God, is it good.
Sweet, soft, easy, warm.
Everything. Everything I wanted.
And then it’s over. I pull back.
“I,” I stammer. “Oh my God, I didn’t…”
“It’s fine,” she says, her cheeks a little pink. “It’s…” She tucks a hair behind her ear.
“Just…I’m excited,” I ramble on, “and I…we won, and you’re here and…”
“Lanz?”
My stomach drops.
It can’t be?—
But I turn, and there he is.
Callahan. Freshly showered, holding his equipment bag over his shoulder.
Waiting for me.
And no mistaking what he’s seen.
“Cal,” I say. “Callahan. I was just…we were just…”
“You don’t have to say anything,” he says. “Don’t worry about it. But we should…”
“Yeah, I…” The pit in my stomach has turned to a churning, th e excitement of my victory now stirred up into a kind of fresh terror and self-loathing.
And it’s all too much.
“I’ve got to…” I can’t string two words together. “I’m sorry. I?—”
That’s all I can manage before I run.
Run like an absolute coward. Away from her, away from Callahan, away from everything.