48. Chapter 48
Chapter 48
Delilah
F or the first time since I can remember, my dreams aren’t agitated after a transformation, yet I still jolt awake.
“Ced–” I start, but when I turn, he’s not beside me. I take a peek out the window, at the sky that was clear and bright blue when I closed my eyes, and is now painted in streaks of orange and red.
I’ve slept the day away.
Panic rises in my throat. I look frantically around me, and the room looks as pristine as if no one had been here at all, save for the indent on the bed my body made. Cedric’s suitcase isn’t here, either.
“No,” I whisper. “No, no, no, please.”
I get up, nearly stumbling over my shoes placed neatly at the feet of the bed, my eyes darting around until I find my phone resting on the nightstand.
“Pick up, pick up,” I mutter to myself as I call Cedric, my fingers shaking. He doesn’t, and I whisper a curse, until I realize there’s a new voicemail, and it’s from him.
I put my shoes on as quickly as possible, damning myself for choosing the most complicated pair to possibly tie up. My phone says it’s almost six, and the timetables for the ferries’ departures I’ve passed hundreds of times at the port pop up in my mind. It should leave in twenty minutes.
That wolf speed would come in handy right now.
I practically throw myself out the door, pinching my dress so it won’t tangle between my legs, taking the stairs two at a time.
Barely avoiding a crease in the Persian rug in the hotel hall, I push on the doors and run toward the port like I never have before on two legs.
Nine minutes later, with my lungs threatening to burst inside me, I get to the port. I think I see the off-white peak of the moored ferry, and my breath wooshes out of me in unadulterated relief. I get closer, distantly aware of how badly my feet hurt from the run, but when I step on the pier proper and get closer, I realize the ferry is empty save for the fishermen. Cedric is nowhere in sight .
“It’s not possible,” I breathe, sure that the only ferry always leaves at the same time. “It’s not possible!” I say again, louder, my chest heaving.
“What isn’t?” a weathered voice asks, and when I whirl, Alec is there, his dark mustache foamy from the drink he’s nursing.
“Alec! Have you seen Cedric?”
“Is that the baker’s son?”
“No,” I say, reaching for a semblance of calm I can’t find anywhere within me. “Cedric Campbell. He’s about six feet tall, well dressed, and has a British accent. I took him to the pier for a tour, remember?”
“Oh, of course! Why didn’t you say so right away?”
“I–”
“He’s in the cabin,” he says, thumb pointing behind him. Those three words send my stomach aflutter, my heart beating too loud in my ears. I look past the fisherman, my eyes refocusing on the small, thatched-roof house.
“Why is he there?”
Unbothered, as he always has been, Alec says, “He was going to catch the ferry when Faye and this long-limbed, pale boy tackled him. They started arguing, so I said, ‘Why don’t you go discuss your problems somewhere you’re not disturbing the fish ?’”
“Right,” I say, outrageously grateful Faye and Marcus got to him before me. “Thank you.”
Alec nods and salutes as he resumes sipping from his cracked mug.
I square my shoulders and stomp toward the cabin.
Cedri c
“I can’t believe this,” I say, passing a hand through my hair. “I cannot bloody believe this.”
“Yes, well–” Marcus starts when the door bursts open, and Delilah appears on the threshold.
“Lila–” Faye says, but Delilah doesn’t look inclined to listen.
“You!” she says, hazel eyes ablaze on me. “Did you seriously think you could–could just leave like that? Without a goodbye? You don’t get to tell me you love me and then–”
“I was–”
“Not there,” she says, more upset than I’ve ever seen her.
She is one hundred percent right, and more. It was cowardly of me, and I would have regretted it for the rest of my life, but it was also the only way I could think to somehow lessen her pain, and mine.
I’m not good at goodbyes.
“You can take a bite out of him later, if you’d like,” Marcus interjects somewhat sheepishly.
Delilah turns to him slowly. “ What ?”
“Mum always said I had terrible comedic timing, but I genuinely thought–”
“Goddamn,” Faye says under her breath, her blood-red fingernails pressing into her forehead as if she were physically keeping her impatience from escaping.
“Lila, we’ve figured it out.”
Delilah’s gaze darts between the three of us, and I smile encouragingly, though I can tell she’s not sold on it. She shakes her head, pursing her lips. I know her well enough by now to know she’s trying not to let tears spill freely.
I step closer, offering one hand. She sniffles, giving me a look that is somehow both apprehensive and hopeful, but relief floods me when she curls her fingers around my palm.
“Explain, please,” Delilah says.
“I thought I’d read the contract one more time, you know, for a giggle,” Marcus says, hip propped against Alec’s kitchen table.
Faye rolls her eyes, but doesn’t interrupt him.
“And like we always knew, there was no caveat about what Joe–our dickhead father–expressly put in there. And, I don’t know, call it genius intuition if you’d like–”
“Blaine bit him,” Faye interjects with a smirk.
“Right, that also happened. The point is, I kept looking at the mark your demon puppy left on me–”
“Blaine is not a demon,” Delilah says. “You probably did something to upset him.”
“He took his favorite–”
“Objection! The motion is irrelevant,” Marcus says with a grin. “As I was saying , I looked at the bite mark and thought–Hey, if Cedric had been bitten from, say, a werewolf… daddy dearest would not want to see his face ever again, either.”
Delilah opens her mouth, turning to me.
“That’s it,” I nod. “I don’t know how it never crossed our minds, but this is the solution. We let him know I’ve been, erm, compromised. If he asks for proof, I happen to be closely acquainted with a certain werewolf. So, if you agree, he can have a drop of blood to test. A fragment of claw, perhaps. He has no way to know it’s not actually mine.”
“This is insane,” she says shakily.
“Points of view,” Marcus says, licking one fang.
“If you did this,” Delilah starts slowly, “do you understand what it means? Would you even be able to go back to Cambridge, or even to England, or anywhere at all, if your father has the connections and power to figure out you lied? You–”
“I’m not saying it will be a walk in the park. He’ll probably still have someone keep an eye on us and I’ll have to be careful, but Marcus’s deal will extend to me. Once Joe believes I’m no longer human and is confident I cannot be affiliated with him anymore, he’ll leave it be.”
“I can’t ask you to do this.”
“You haven’t asked me. It’s my decision,” I say confidently.
Faye pulls Marcus by the sleeve, carrying him outside for us to continue this conversation alone. Delilah swallows, biting her lip.
“What if it doesn’t work out? What if you think you love me and then you realize you don’t? And assuming we’d be together forever, and that thought alone is–” her lips tremble. “You’d be some sort of dignified prisoner. You don’t want this life.”
I shake my head, taking her other hand in mine. Looking at her, because I can’t have her doubt any part of what I’m about to say.
“Do I look like the kind of person that doesn’t think things through?” I ask. “Delilah, I have never lived for myself. I’ve spent my life either making sure Marcus stayed alive or sitting at a desk at a job I hated to earn my keep. I would do it all over again if I had to, but if there is anything you’ve taught me, it’s that that is no way to live.
“You know I like this place, more than I could ever like Cambridge. I like the open air, the quiet, hell, I even like the people, when they’re not ogling at me.”
A bout of laughter escapes Delilah as her eyes soften.
“And most of all, I like who I am when I’m with you, and perhaps I like that is who I’ve always been, and I’ve finally met the person who brings it out of me. Someone who is capable of happiness just for the sake of it. Someone who isn’t afraid to feel. To love. And I am in love with you. Claws and all.”
“You sound really sure,” she says, eyes shiny and lovely boring into mine.
“That’s because I am,” I reply.
Delilah breathes in deeply, then exhales. I frown because there’s still something pensive about her expression, but then–
She looks up at me and grins like she’s the sun herself.
“Come on,” she says, pulling my hand with preternatural strength I might never get used to, barrelling us both out of the kitchen and through the door, its hinges protesting with the sudden movement.
“Delilah, wait–” I start, once again cursing myself for not bothering to change into sneakers as she runs, her hand grasping mine solidly.
She laughs, the sound bright and rich. We pass Faye and Marcus, who seem to be arguing in hushed tones about something, and we stomp on the damp wooden planks of the pier.
The captain of the ferry cocks his head as we approach.
“You coming, son?” he asks, one eyebrow raised impatiently.
“No sir,” I say, slightly out of breath. “I’m staying.”
Delilah’s smile seems to grow impossibly warmer after. The captain hops on and we watch as the boat bobs off on the peaceful, bright blue water.
“So what are we doing here, exactly?” I ask.
“I wanted a more romantic background,” Delilah says as her gaze moves from the horizon to me.
“For what? ”
She giggles and all but throws her arms at my neck, my own coming around her waist, holding tightly, as if it were second nature.
“For this,” she whispers, before she leans in and presses her lips against mine. My lips part, making way for her to meld her mouth on mine, the chirping of birds and gentle lapping of the water disappearing beneath the blood rushing in my ears, the heat of her tongue and her body all I have ever needed, even when I didn’t know it. We part slightly, my arms keeping her close as her thumb tenderly strokes my jaw.
“You do know that I love you too, don’t you?”
“Hhm. Maybe you should tell me again, just to be sure.”
“I love you,” she whispers against my lips. “I love you.”
There is still so much to think about, matters to settle. But right now?
This perfect moment is all ours, and nothing can take it–her–away from me.