Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
There’s always someone with bigger teeth.
ALISTAIR
The bumps on the ceiling resemble the surface of a distant planet, billions of light-years away for humans or one mega-expensive portal rental for me.
I try to imagine how life would be there, then catch my breath until the pain in my gut passes.
It’s a cheap popcorn ceiling. No amount of imagination can change that.
I close my eyes, desperate for rest, but without the distraction of the bumps, the pain only gets worse.
I haven’t hurt this badly since I was newly turned, picking fights with supernaturals who had far more magic, strength, and common sense than I did at the time.
Luckily, I survived those fights, and I’ll survive this one too.
Lying in my bed with Celine’s hair draped across my spare pillow, I remember the fiery burn of the sword piercing my gut. That was followed by the creeping coldness that encased my whole body as my blood spilled on the ground.
My memory of the ambush is hazy. No matter how hard I concentrate, it’s like trying to get a good look at something sunk beneath several feet of water. The edges aren’t sharp, and the sounds are warbly and inconsistent—some faint, some loud enough to hurt my ears.
All I can recall with perfect clarity is the certainty that I was going to die. My thirty-second year would be my last. Within moments of the ambush, I had accepted it. The blood loss was too severe, even for me. I needed a miracle; I got a demon instead.
Ciprian saved my life and put his own at risk in the process, and I cannot figure out why. It’s maddening, nearly as maddening as how close my own carelessness came to causing my death.
I wonder if meeting my end by a stranger’s sword is something Mum would consider a natural cause. Not for a human, certainly, but murder is one of the most common ways a vampire dies. Perhaps if I get bored enough, I’ll ask her.
The attack made one thing perfectly clear: my obsession with Celine is dangerous.
She awakens every monstrous instinct I’ve managed to keep silenced for years.
A beam of sun on my skin, I long for her even as she burns me to ash.
Even if I don’t survive her, I want her to be mine.
I want that more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
Celine wears her strength like armor, but there are cracks. Moments of vulnerability. Spending time with her has shown them to me, turning what started as fascination into something more. Fixation, maybe. Possession, certainly.
Hot blood churns behind my eyes as I watch her sleep at my side, the curve of her cheeks, the way her fuller bottom lip hangs slightly open. There’s no denying she’s beautiful, but the groove between her arched brows is proof she’s not fully at ease.
Celine would be more comfortable if Luca and I turned our backs on her.
I hate that.
My nostrils flare and my vision tunnels as I imagine leaving her to face the assassins alone.
Calm down, I tell myself. She’s safe. She’s right here in your bed.
Somehow, that makes it worse. My throat dries out, burning with rage and the unmistakable desire to drain her enemies dry.
I’ll kill them all. Tear their throats wide open.
In her sleep, Celine reaches for me. I clasp her hand gently in mine, careful not to wake her, and press a barely there kiss to her knuckles. My rage goes from a roaring inferno to banked embers. I blink, startled by the emotional whiplash. Why am I having this reaction?
My belly spasms as something knits back together. Gritting my teeth, I close my eyes and wait for the agony to pass. Thanks to Ciprian’s blood, I’ll be back to full strength soon. No scars, no lingering issues—only a vivid memory of pain. I’ll carry that with me forever.
With Celine’s hand clasped loosely in mine, I coax my brain to turn off, reminding it that we’re in my sunproof apartment, a space protected by as much magic as money can buy. It doesn’t work. I try logic next, then threats.
I’m unable to sleep until my plan to convince Celine to allow me to protect her is complete. It can’t wait. My best chance is now—while her eyes soften when she thinks of my injury, and the cracks in her armor are shaped like me.
I feel no guilt for leveraging her emotions to get my way. Life on the Fringes has taught me the value of utilizing my resources, no matter how insignificant, and I never forget a lesson learned.
“Has anyone ever studied the cognitive effects of blood loss on vampires?” Celine tilts her head; her cheek creased from my pillow.
I smile through my pain. “I’ll get right on that, angel, as soon as you agree to stay here.”
My apartment is cool and dark, as always, but it’s also teeming with unfamiliar sounds.
A spring shifts on the couch as Ciprian rolls over, the steady puff of Luca’s breathing across the hall.
If I listen hard enough, I can even make out the sounds of three steadily beating hearts, disrupting the aching quiet of my normally empty home.
“I heard you the first time, Alistair.” Celine’s hand balls into a fist between us. “The answer is still no.”
I sigh, a groan catching in my throat as I roll onto my back and the ruptured muscles in my belly protest. “Luca lives alone?”
“Yeah, why?” Celine’s tone is laced with suspicion.
“No reason,” I say innocently. “I’m wondering what would have happened to him if those angels had broken into his place instead of attacking me in the street.”
It’s not a nice thing to say, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I want to spend time visiting her bed, not her headstone.
Celine sucks in a breath, the skin around her eyes tightening. “You might remember I already raised this concern and provided a solution. You both told me to fuck off.”
“The situation has changed,” I admit.
“My offer stands.” Celine shifts, retreating from me physically by an inch or two. It’s the distance in her eyes that hurts as much as the sword in my belly. You prepared for this, Alistair.
“We can break up later today,” she continues. “Plenty of people will be around at the club to see.”
I keep my face blank, refusing to show how her words sting. She’s being logical, even selfless in a way. It’s not what I want. Like the air that fills her lungs or her precious motorcycle, I want to be something Celine can’t live without.
“That remains the worst choice,” I say bluntly. “We need to pivot, adapt—make changes that keep us all safe. Strategize with me, Celine. Use your resources.”
“You aren’t a resource, Alistair.” She bites the words out through clenched teeth, her hushed tone furious. “I don’t know why we’re discussing this. You were run through because of me. You should be running for the hills.”
“I’m not up for running yet,” I tease. Rolling onto my side, I reach for her, brushing my fingertips over her cheek. “But I wouldn’t even if I could. Move in with me. Please.”
“Surely you want your space,” she tries, nibbling on her bottom lip. There’s a gleam in her brown eyes. I lean closer, jealous of whatever inspired that expression.
“My space is infinitely preferable with you in it.”
“I’ll agree on two conditions: one, you move in with me; two, Luca also has to agree.”
Victory rolls over me, frenzied and delicious. I can barely hide my delight. If she thinks Luca won’t jump on this, she’s lost her mind. He’s going to be thrilled. The very idea that he would refuse is laughable.
I lace her fingers with mine, running my thumb over the back of her hand lazily. The tingling, aching discomfort behind my abs helps to obscure my eagerness, and I’m grateful for pain for the first time in eight hours.
“I’ll sunproof today and bring in a bed for my spare room,” she says.
I frown, and Celine rolls her eyes. “We need space, Alistair. There’s safety in numbers, but the reality is we’re all used to living alone and having things a certain way. If someone needs to cool off, I want them to be able to without being on top of each other.”
I grunt, seeing the wisdom in her plan, but not loving it. On top of each other is exactly where I want to be.
“I’m going to invite Ciprian too,” she says.
My frown grows.
“He killed three angels last night,” she reminds me. “If my dad was watching, Ciprian could be a target now too.”
I groan and bury my face in the pillow. “But they’re all dead; there’s no one left to—shit, the blood.” In the chaos, my brain forgot something my body didn’t.
“What?” Celine’s voice is taut. “Tell me about the blood, Alistair.”
I’m reluctant to share this detail, but keeping anything from her will erode the trust we’ve built. I sigh and say, “The blood of the angel on your windowsill didn’t belong to any of the three who attacked me last night. Someone else is here . . .”
“And until we find them, I’m up to my wings in bossy supernatural men.”
“Exactly how you like it,” I joke.
Celine swats me, but her touch is unusually gentle, as if I’m made of glass. I dislike it. Rolling, I hover above her, supporting my weight with my arms. There’s an aching tug in my gut, but other than that I feel fine. Another sign that Ciprian is powerful.
“You’ll hurt yourself,” Celine scolds, her hands grazing my skin gingerly.
“Worth it.” I kiss her neck, loving how she cants her head to the side to give me better access. “You’re delicious.” I sigh against her throat, the warmth of her skin banishing the lingering chill from the ambush.
“No super speed,” Celine orders. “In fact . . .”
She grabs me, maneuvering me onto my back until our positions are reversed—her thighs spread wide to accommodate my hips.
Annoyed, I frown.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“What?” Celine hisses. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, I . . . You’ll have to do all the work on top,” I complain.
Her lips twitch. “You can do all the work next time,” she promises. “Today, you’ll have to grin and bear it.”