Chapter 28
“Why didn’t she tell us?” I ask no one in particular as I pace back and forth at the foot of her bed.
Sterling is sitting in the chair from his desk, moved as close to her bedside as possible.
His hand clutches hers, his fingers stroking steady circles against her skin. A pang of jealousy hits me again.
“Perhaps because we failed to provide the space to do so.” Sterling’s voice is hollow, and I know he doesn’t mean the words to be an insult, but they tear through me just the same.
Quinn's on the other side of her bed, though more removed from the moment. He leans back against the wall in the corner, making room for Laurel, who’s tending ardently to Evangeline. She hasn’t woken since the garage. Hasn’t even so much as stirred, despite whatever shit Laurel has been doing.
I’d been the one to carry her here, hands shaky as they curled around her form. Fear like I’ve never experienced before vibrated through my body. It hit me harder than I thought it would—the thought of losing her so quickly. I pause my pacing, turning to face the bed.
“What the fuck is taking so long?” The words are louder than I mean them to be. Angrier, too. But my control is slipping with each moment she remains unconscious.
“It’s going to take more than five minutes to heal her,” Laurel replies.
She’s levelheaded, calm, but there’s a look in her eyes like she wants to wring my neck for speaking to her that way.
“She may be touched by the Arcane, but she’s still a Watcher.
Which means her body doesn’t handle the Arcane the same way ours does.
And unfortunately for us, Andras took out the one connection we had to obtain Angel’s Trumpet.
So it’s going to take me a minute to figure out how else we can suppress the magic weakening her. ”
“I–fuck,” I stammer, tripping over words I don’t have to explain everything racing through my mind.
I’d sensed something about her from the moment we found her.
A Watcher touched by the Arcane—it’s unheard of.
Supposed to be impossible. And yet, here she is.
Sterling knew it, Quinn . . . even I couldn’t deny the pull of her power.
But why? I flex my fists at my side, trying to expel some of the rage coursing through my veins.
“Sorry. I’m just trying to make sense of it all. ”
“She didn’t lie to us.” Sterling doesn’t take his eyes off of her as he speaks. His concentration is so deep, it makes my head hurt just to watch him. “She told us about the attack, about the banishment. She just left out some of the details.”
“That’s a big fucking detail to leave out,” I say, pointing back towards the garage, where she transformed in front of our eyes.
Seeing her that way . . . she was wild. Magnificent.
Power dripped off of her, filling the room with its vicious intent.
I’m not the least bit ashamed to admit I was lapping up every drop.
It was invigorating to witness that side of her, one I hadn’t even known existed.
But it only lasted a moment, and then she was collapsing, convulsing—leaving this reality behind and slipping into some sort of half world where she’s not quite dead but surely not alive.
I take to pacing again, shaking my head and pushing the visions from my mind.
“All I’m saying,” Sterling continues, "is that you need to calm the fuck down. Because this is exactly why she didn’t feel safe enough to divulge the full truth.
” There’s venom in Sterling’s words. Zeke steps up from behind him, laying a hand on his shoulder.
But Sterling shoves him away. “No, I’m done walking on eggshells around this.
I told you from the start. I told all of you.
" His gaze drifts through the room before landing on Zeke.
“She was something different. Something important. Something special. And none of you listened to me.”
I don’t even have the fight in me to argue. Because he’s right. He did warn us. But how was I supposed to guess the High Quarter Alpha’s daughter was Arcane-touched? Yes, she felt different, Compelling. But no part of me imagined it was because of an impossible magic lingering inside of her.
“So," Sterling continues, "if she wakes—”
“When,” Quinn corrects from the wall.
Sterling’s jaw hardens, his hold on her hand tightening. “When she wakes, do better.”
A heavy silence falls over the room.
Zeke pushes through the room several moments later, offering no explanation or excuse for his sudden leave. Sterling doesn’t even look up to watch him go, just doubles down on his attention on Evangeline. He leans in, planting a kiss against her temple, and the gesture ruins me.
Because I could have had that. Because I’ve wasted the last week fighting this incessant hunger within myself and suppressing my instincts instead of listening to Sterling.
Instead of accepting her. I want to blame my battle on distrust, that she came from the city center and was surely hiding something.
And I suppose I was right, to a certain extent.
But I know that’s not the real reason I’ve been keeping my distance.
Something about her unleashes the beast inside me, makes my bloodlust insatiable.
And not just for anyone’s blood. For hers.
And I couldn’t let myself get close enough to act on it, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to control myself if I did.
And if I couldn’t have her, then neither could they.
So I ordered them to keep their distance until I figured out what to do.
Fucking Sterling, though. He marches to the beat of his own drum, no matter how strict I am with him.
While it’s a thorn in my side, I admire that about him.
He knows what he wants and he fucking goes for it.
Which is why he’s the one currently stroking Evangeline’s hair and I’m the one cowering in the corner for fear of losing control around her, even in her current state.
Laurel brings out a needle, piercing the blue vein in Evangeline’s nearly translucent skin and my body bristles as the smell of her blood blooms in the air. “Report to me if there’s any change in her,” I order, stalking towards the door in a graceless attempt to escape.
Every fiber of my being wants me to turn around and go back to her. To be at her bedside when she wakes. To drink up every last drop of her. I steady myself against the wall in the hallway, pushing away the dark, sadistic thoughts circling my mind like vultures.
No. I need space. I can't be near her like this.
“Aamon, wait.” Quinn calls after me, following me into the hallway. I grit my teeth together, pushing off the wall and heading towards my room.
“Aamon,” Quinn calls again, a sharper edge to his tone this time. I ignore him, turning my direction towards the front door instead. Perhaps it's still early enough that I can find a competitor in the fighting rings. Perhaps that bit of bloodshed will be enough to stave this hunger.
I reach for the door, just as Quinn’s hand grabs my arm. He pulls me back, inserting himself between me and the exit. “What the fuck is going on with you?” he asks, brow furrowed as he lets his eyes pore over me.
“Nothing, Quinn.” My voice is quiet, resolved. And I hope it’s enough to convince him to let me go. But in true Quinn fashion, he pushes me further.
“Not nothing. You’ve been going through some shit for a while now—”
“I made it clear how I felt about the girl,” I cut in, raising a hand between us. “But you and Sterling wouldn’t stop pushing me.”
“Stop the shit, Aamon. Things have been bad with you far before Evangeline got here.”
He pushes a hand through that tousled, long blonde hair, his telltale sign of frustration when he’s trying to puzzle out something he cannot wrap his mind around.
“I’ve tried to let you get through it on your own.
Hoped that if I gave you time, you’d either figure it out without me or would get desperate enough to finally fucking include me on whatever this is. ” He gestures broadly to me.
“And what is this,” I growl, my patience wearing thin. My resolve is wearing down with every moment I spend under the same roof as her. Her scent still invades my nostrils and if Quinn doesn’t let me go soon, I fear what I may do.
“You, Aamon! This whole new personality you’ve seemed to take on. The constant fighting, the brooding and never talking to me anymore.”
I shrug him off, trying to step around him but he catches my hand, drawing me in close to him.
“The refusal to feed. You’re mad at Evangeline for keeping shit from you when you’ve known her all of one week. Yet, we’ve been friends practically our whole lives and here you are. Hiding shit from me as if I’m nothing more than a stranger to you.”
“Let go of me, Quinn.” It’s not a request, nor a statement as a friend.
It’s a command from the right hand of the Blood Order.
He hesitates, pain written across his features.
And it kills me to hurt him like this. But this isn’t his battle to fight.
He lets go, reluctantly, stepping away to let me pass through the threshold.
I pull the door open, stepping out into the night. “She lied to both of us,” I say over my shoulder.
“What?” he asks, confused.
I pull my hood up over my head, slipping my veil in place. “You said she kept the truth from me. But it was both of us. All of us, that she lied to. Does that not anger you, too?”
Several moments of silence pass between us. Me, facing the promised violence of a night within the ungoverned district. Quinn, refusing to leave the confines of the clubhouse at the bedside of a hopeless angel.
“No,” he says at last, huffing out a breath. I can almost hear the way he must be shaking his head in disappointment at me. “No, I’m not mad. Because she didn’t lie to me, Aamon. You just didn’t think to ask the right questions.”
So he knew, then. Or at least suspected. And chose not to say anything to me. I ball my fists at my side, nodding once before stepping into the chilled night air. The only sound that greets me as I walk away is the click of the door as Quinn shuts it behind me.