Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
It’s better to make a pile of your enemies than allow them to pile up.
CELINE
I roll my fingers over my throbbing temples, an electric current of tension buzzing through me. “I’m not sure I’m hearing this right,” I say.
“That’s because it’s fucking messy.” Luca shakes his head. “Your brain is trying to reject the reality out of self-preservation.”
I smack his chest, but my heart isn’t in it. Not when it’s way too busy beating like a drum, every instinct demanding I step up and protect them both. This isn’t the same as before. You’re not helpless anymore.
When Luca stumbled into the Fang, missing his overshirt and streaked with blood, I wanted to strip him and check every inch of his body for injuries. After he told me what happened, the guilt almost crushed me.
I need to talk to Alistair and make things right. He’s in the line of fire—exactly as I feared—and it almost cost him his life. And now Ciprian is somehow involved, lying like wilted lettuce on Alistair’s black leather couch, his mouth hanging open.
Luca points at the unconscious demon. “I know it’s not ideal, but he saved Alistair’s life. I couldn’t leave him.”
I groan and pace another lap around the unfamiliar room, careful not to let my wings hit the furniture. “I get that, but why are we here and not my place?”
“He doesn’t belong at your place,” he says, tossing his arms up. “And Alistair said it was fine to bring him here, something about wards.”
I sigh, my nerves fried. “I noticed them when I came in. Like an ice bath.”
“I hope it wasn’t too uncomfortable for you, angel.” Alistair walks in, his normally fluid walk slow and jerky.
“Are you okay?” I demand, cringing when my tone makes the question sound less concerned and more like an interrogation.
Alistair stops in front of me, the corner of his lips curling. “Nothing eight hours of rest won’t fix. I’ll be right as rain before you know it.”
After a slight hesitation, he dips his head and kisses me.
I sag with relief. He’s here. He’s safe.
He’s standing in front of me. Alistair deepens the kiss, his tongue tracing my lips, then dancing with mine.
There’s a raw edge to the kiss. I wrap my arms around his neck, trying my best to assure us both that he’s alive.
We argued again earlier. He wanted to stay over after my shift, but my place isn’t vampire-proofed yet.
I need to order more blackout curtains for the living room.
When he pushed for Luca to stay instead, I realized it wasn’t about wanting to spend time with me at all.
He wanted to assign me a babysitter. I told him to forget it.
Alistair and Luca are the kind of guys who will take over if they aren’t given limits—but him leaving the club upset and distracted? That’s on me.
Alistair moans, and I jerk as I realize it’s from pain and not pleasure. “Shit, be careful,” I snap, pulling back, then wincing at my tone.
“You’re cute when you’re worried.” He smiles widely, his fangs visible.
Luca chuckles. His laughter cuts off abruptly when he looks back at Ciprian.
“What the hell did you do to him, anyway?” I ask, shaking my head as a light snore escapes his mouth. “He has no sense of self-preservation.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” Alistair settles carefully in an armchair, his features tight with pain. “Before the blood loss made everything fuzzy . . . Ciprian showed up. All three of the angels freaked out, and he cut them down one by one, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.”
I study Ciprian, confused by Alistair’s description. It doesn’t match what I’m seeing. With his platinum-blond hair falling over his eyes and his face slack with sleep, he doesn’t look like a ruthless killer. He looks . . . fuck me, he looks adorable.
“We don’t know what kind of demon he is, do we?” I turn to Alistair for confirmation, and he shakes his head. With a network of informants at his disposal, he’s far more likely to know people’s secrets than Luca or I.
“He’s powerful,” Alistair murmurs. “Beyond that, I can’t say.”
Luca lifts his head, his eyes widening. “After Ciprian found the angel outside the club, that regular walked by us and didn’t glance over once.”
“Are there any rumors of demons who can turn invisible?” I ask.
“Yes, although I’ve never seen one,” Alistair says, then drops his head back against the chair. “But how would I know if I had?”
“Even if he can become invisible, that doesn’t explain why we weren’t noticed either,” Luca says.
“It doesn’t add up.” I frown at Alistair. “And he offered a vein when you needed it?” In my experience, no one in the Fringes does something for nothing, especially if it involves making themselves weaker. Ciprian must have an angle.
“He did want to make sure you heard about his heroics.”
My mouth drops open as I look between Alistair and Luca with disbelief. They both burst out laughing, and I roll my eyes. Ciprian stirs on the couch, but instead of waking up, he rolls over on his side, nuzzling his face against the pillow.
“Unbelievable,” I mutter.
On the coffee table, his cellphone vibrates, but he doesn’t wake up.
“That thing has been going off nonstop,” Luca says. “It’s four o’clock in the morning.”
“Booty call?” Alistair asks.
I pick it up, but Ciprian must have some common sense because the phone is locked. It doesn’t even show a preview of the missed messages.
“Could be a girlfriend,” I say.
“With the way he’s been all over you and Luca, I doubt it’s a girlfriend,” Alistair teases.
Luca glances away, but not before I notice the blush crawling up his cheeks.
I put the phone down and scoff. “That rarely stops anyone from walking into the club.”
“That’s true,” Alistair agrees. “But I don’t get that impression from him. It’s hard to explain, but I trust my sense of people, and he doesn’t strike me as disloyal.”
“That’s so sweet.”
In sync, we whip our heads toward the couch, where Ciprian is grinning, one black eye cracked open like a bat avoiding a porch light. “For the record, I’m not . . . disloyal, that is.”
“You wouldn’t advertise it if you were,” I point out.
“True.” He smirks. “You look ravishing by the way.”
“Please.” I shake my head. “Your eyes are half-closed.”
“I know, and I’m still amazed. Congratulations.” He lifts his head and surveys his surroundings. “Cool apartment. Where are we?”
“My lair,” Alistair says drily. “I brought you back here in case I get thirsty.”
“That’s fine, but only if someone lends a helping hand while you’re latched.” Ciprian laughs, then turns a smoldering leer my way. “I was a hero tonight. Did anyone mention it?”
Despite myself, I laugh—the sharp edges of my wings reverting to feathers, something I’ve been unable to make them do since hearing about Alistair’s attack. My laugh cuts off abruptly and I look at Ciprian with new eyes. He’s disarming, and it’s so subtle I barely noticed it.
“A knight in shining armor,” I drawl, then wink at Alistair. “Protecting his damsel in distress.”
“Watch it,” Alistair growls. It reminds me of how he sounded last night in my bed, and a shiver of pure sexual energy runs through me. Pull yourself together.
“And I didn’t even get a kiss for it.” Ciprian sighs dramatically. “Only a wicked case of blue balls to pair with acute anemia.”
“Would you rather I made it hurt?” Alistair’s low purr is too much. I shift my weight and glance away, noticing both Luca and Ciprian are affected by the obvious innuendo.
“Ask me after my platelets return to normal.” Ciprian cranes his neck to focus on Luca. “Thanks for not leaving me in the street. What happened to the . . . mess?”
“Alistair’s contact took care of it,” Luca says. “I loaded you both in the car before he got there. No one knows you’re involved. You won’t have to worry about getting in trouble with the enclave.”
I snort. “Like the enclave would bother sending someone here.”
Ciprian laughs out loud, the sound almost manic. He’s either out of it or trying to suck up to me, because my sarcasm wasn’t that funny. Sinking onto the arm of Alistair’s chair, I roll my eyes internally. Guys will laugh at anything if they think it will get them laid.
“Where are my manners?” Alistair murmurs, pushing to his feet. “I have guests. Let me prepare some food.”
“Sit down,” Luca scoffs.
“Yeah,” Ciprian drags the word out. “I don’t want to bring up bad memories, but I fully saw your guts, like—what time is it right now?”
“Almost five,” I tell him.
“Two hours ago.” Ciprian sits up, wobbling slightly, then leans back against the couch. “I’m kind of amazed you’re alive.”
Alistair lifts his chin defiantly. “It will take more than a sword to kill me.”
“Well fuck,” Ciprian gasps. “If you’re going to tempt fate, you could at least keep your voice down. Next time she might send a flamethrower.”
“It’s time for bed,” I say, shaking my head as three sets of eyes snap to me. I shiver. Teamed up, they’re a lot to handle.
Alistair swallows. “Let me get you something more comfortable to wear, angel.”
“I can go home,” I argue. “You’re not in any position to—”
“No,” Alistair snaps, then clears his throat. “I mean, it’s no trouble at all, love.”
He hobbles out of sight, and I look at Luca.
Standing behind the couch, he’s staring at the back of Ciprian’s head as if he’ll uncover a crazy conspiracy if he keeps at it long enough.
Luca only breaks the stare to silently gesture between the two of us, raising his eyebrows in an obvious question.
Godsdammit. I haven’t considered whether I want to publicly reveal .
. . whatever this is. He’s giving me the choice, but I need time to think.
I try to communicate that with my eyes, and Luca nods.
“I can step out if you two need to talk,” Ciprian says drily. “Unless Alistair was serious about me being a prisoner.”
“No . . . We’re not—it’s fine,” I sputter, surprised he caught on.