Chapter Eleven #2
“I apologize, Ms. Sombercrown,” I say. “We were understandably rattled by last night’s news. But, luckily, something else has been in development that I think will help offset some of the strain the Urzoth church is under. It should please Reverend Drach.”
Roesia’s head tips ever so slightly. “Oh?”
“Alexo and I are moving in together.”
Bel leans against my arm, bringing his other hand up to play with my thumb where it’s locked around his. I’m not sure what’s causing the tension suddenly winding through him, but I don’t lose focus. Can’t. Just get through this, do this performative dance, and we can leave.
Treva, typing away, glances up. “Um. What?”
I give her a small smile. “You were right in picking up that we are really together. We have been for some time. And we’re taking our relationship to the next level, which should provide an excellent opportunity for Reverend Drach to capitalize on more positive Urzoth press, which will also give me and the Hellhounds positive press.
” My throat swells, and I clear it. “Do you—are you aware of how the church is responding to the abduction?”
Bel goes motionless.
Roesia nods. “Their followers are understandably upset, but to channel their anger, the church is planning several demonstrations of Urzoth’s strength in cities across the country.
” I must not do a good job of wiping the fear off my face, because she bats her hand.
“Duels among followers, nothing that will endanger bystanders. They are trying to improve their image, after all.”
“On that note,” Treva cuts in, “Reverend Drach has asked that we pass along the message for you and Mr. Warden to not participate in any of the demonstrations. They don’t want you associated with that aspect of the church.”
Oh, darn. I was planning on heading out after this and volunteering for a duel.
Roesia taps a finger on her knee. “But yes, your relationship progressing will be a bright spot against this news. Treva?”
“Yeah, we can definitely work with this. People will eat it up. And—” Treva looks down at her tablet.
“This will go a long way towards distracting from last night’s abduction, but the church had their own suggestion in mind for something you two can do.
It’ll really shine a positive light on Urzoth and, similarly, on you and the team. ”
My teeth clench. “What is it?”
“They’d like to have a photo op of you and Mr. Warden with your parents, since your mother is an active member of her local church,” Treva says. “It’d be a great, wholesome moment to balance the violent demonstrations. Can they come up for next week’s home game?”
Numb, I repeat, “Next week’s game?”
“Yes. Against the Chimeras. Since eyes will already be on you from facing your old team, we’re hoping to capitalize on that extra attention.”
Introduce Bel to my parents after playing against the team that ostracized me.
My smile is more than a little exhausted. “That’s fine. I’ll call them and arrange it.”
Treva clutches her tablet to her chest. “You’re okay with us and the Urzoth church continuing to push your relationship? If it’s real now, we don’t want to intrude.”
Roesia doesn’t react to that, neither to scold Treva for offering nor to agree.
I look down at Bel’s hand in mine.
No. I don’t want our relationship splashed across tabloids.
And no, I don’t want our relationship used by the Urzoth church. At all.
But renouncing Urzoth would draw too much attention, especially now.
The media would pick apart my choice and everything about my life, and since my relationship with Bel is the latest big change, they’d focus on that, find some way to blame him for me leaving.
It’d stir up all kinds of blood in the water for the cultists, and yeah, Bel and I would still be high-profile enough to have some protection, but it’d draw unneeded focus to us. To him.
No. I don’t want any of this.
I smile at Treva. “Yes. We’re fine with it. If that’s all?”
Treva looks at Roesia for confirmation.
Roesia, who’s been unnervingly quiet, has her chin in her hand and her eyes narrowed pensively.
She flicks that look to Bel. “How do you feel about things, Mr. Warden? Mr. Monroe doesn’t speak for you.”
I jolt. Of course I don’t.
But I have been.
I try to put space between us, but Bel doesn’t let go of me, yanking our hands into his lap.
“I’m fine, Ms. Sombercrown,” he says. “It’s great. I’m really happy.”
Every single person in this room hears the lie in his voice.
My brows dip, but he keeps a forced smile up for Roesia.
Her narrow eyes don’t let up. “My door is always open if you need anything.”
She looks at me, and her pensive gaze turns the slightest bit hostile.
I almost call her on it. What does she think is happening here? All they should see is that we started this fake relationship at their behest, and now it isn’t fake anymore, and Bel’s moving in with me. Why is that worthy of her ire? Does she think I’m forcing him into it?
Her protectiveness seems to be in favor of Bel, so I’ll let it stand. The more people looking out for him, the better. Even if they’re looking suspiciously at me.
“You’re dismissed,” Roesia says. Then adds, “Good work, both of you.” But her tone is flat.
Bel and I stand and make our way out of her office. In unspoken agreement, we leave HQ in silence; there’s just the swishing of our bags against my hip where I carry them both.
Gulus is still on that bench.
I ignore him—that’s for the best, right?—and head to my car in the private lot. Stiff, I open the door for Bel, toss our bags in the trunk, and climb into the driver’s seat.
And sit there.
Bel wiggles on the seat and winces.
I look at him, but he doesn’t look at me, his cheeks red.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“Fine,” he says too quickly. He wanes, amends with, “I’m fine. It’s sore, yeah. But…” His blush intensifies, flooding his cheeks, his neck. “I like the reminder of you,” he whispers.
Fuuuuuuck me.
I want to ask more about that, but if we start talking about his ass, things are going to take a sexual turn, and there’s something beneath his surface I’m not seeing.
Silence falls. Again. He keeps staring out the windshield, seemingly unaware I haven’t even started the car yet, his face set in a worried frown.
“Think we should set Roesia up with Ilbryen?” I ask.
Bel flings a perplexed look at me. “What?”
I shrug, curling and uncurling one hand around the steering wheel. “They both give off the same alpha feminine energy. What’s the phrase? Boss bitch? I dunno. I think they could handle each other.”
Bel gapes at me. I keep filling the silence.
“It’d be pretty terrifying for the rest of us, though. But I think they’d be benevolent overlords once we surrender to their invincible team-up, so we should—”
“None of this is real, is it?”
My mouth slams shut.
Bel looks horrified that he spoke. His eyes are round, and his chest flickers in a quick inhale.
He locks his arms around himself and whips to face the windshield.
“Are we going straight to your place?” he asks in a small voice. “Or can I get some stuff from my—”
“Why wouldn’t it be real?”
He drops his eyes to his lap. “Please let it go. I didn’t mean to say that.”
I reach across the console and pull one of his arms out to take his hand.
“I don’t want to go back to letting things go with you,” I whisper. “Tell me what you meant. Please?”
He swallows, still not looking at me, and fights an internal war for a few quiet moments before he snaps his eyes shut.
“I’m not moving in with you and meeting your parents because you want me to.
I mean, you might want me to live with you, but it isn’t—it’s only—” He thunks his head back against the seat and groans.
“I hate this part. I always have. The constant lying, every action blanketed in a dozen layers of half-truths. Nothing’s real. ”
“Bel. Look at me.”
He does, reluctantly.
“You and me? It’s real. For me, at least. What can I do to make it real for you?”
He balks. “It can’t be real for you.”
“Why?”
“Because—because I’m only meeting your parents as a PR stunt, and I’m only moving in with you because you agreed to be my handler. You don’t want me to move in with you. To meet your parents. Not the way you said it to Roesia.”
“Ah. Okay.” I turn on the seat as much as I can to face him, then take both his hands in mine. “Belzaroth—crap. What’s your last name? Not Warden? Vossen?”
Though having the surname linked with Galaxrien Vossen would’ve painted an even bigger target on him over his life.
He sighs. “See? You don’t even know my last name.”
I clamp down when he tries to pull his hands away. “Tell me, or I’ll make something up. Something awful.”
“Orok.”
“Well, that’s a bit serendipitous. But anyway, Belzaroth Orok—”
“Oh my gods, you know that’s not what I meant.”
“Fine, then. Belzaroth Hardmeat, would you—”
He gapes. “You’re not taking this seriously.”
“I’m trying to, but you’re being stubborn. So, Belzaroth FineAss—”
“Fucking hell. It’s Reynolds, okay?”
I pause, head listing to the side. “Reynolds?”
That’s so … not demonic.
Bel grumbles, exasperated. “My great-great-great-grandmother is responsible for this esteemed line of my family tree—she was a Galaxrien worshipper and gave herself up to a horrifically risky ceremony most people don’t survive, all to breed little demonic Galaxrien mortals.
That first descendant was a Vossen. But he had kids with a regular mortal, who had kids with a regular mortal, who didn’t want their offspring being the target of a cult, and thank the gods it gave me at least one normal thing.
Can you imagine if I had to go around as a Vossen?
It’s bad enough my mom named me Belzaroth. ”
I keep my head tipped, silently prodding for that explanation, too.