Chapter 30
THIRTY
As representatives of the enclave, you must conduct yourselves appropriately. Remember, someone is always watching.
CIPRIAN
I am having a fucking moment.
The urge to make a joke or hide my frustration behind a bottle of wine is hard to resist. And it’s harder because I’m here, within the walls where I created the Ciprian Casanell I show to the world.
That Ciprian is flippant, rude, often drunk, and sometimes crass, but he never gets his feelings hurt.
Rumor has it, he doesn’t even have them.
Except my dead dad’s chair is staring at me, demanding I feel something, as if it’s sentient and not just a pile of leather and wood held together by nails or glue or whatever they use to construct overpriced furniture.
Celine didn’t want me to come with her.
And I gave Luca one piece of advice: don’t tell Gideon about the basilisk. I only wanted him to have some peace, but did he listen? No. And it’s because he thinks I’m ashamed of him? What the actual fuck?
I’ve never done anything to make any of them think that. They’re the ones who cringe every time they hear my last name.
Alistair fears he’ll lose his business because of his connection to me, which is logical, but what are Celine and Luca risking? Street cred in the fucking Fringes? If the opinions of strangers are more important to them than I am, we’re wasting our time.
I’m in love with them, but I won’t remain a dirty secret forever.
Excusing myself, I storm out of the room and close the door behind me, ignoring their probing stares. I’m overreacting. I know that, but I can’t keep swallowing rejection and crawling back for more. You’ll never be enough.
Luca calls my name.
I walk faster. I can’t deal with this right now; I need to calm down first. Bitterness chokes me, the sick churning in my stomach confirming what I’ve always feared: it’s not the situation—it’s me . . . I’m not serious enough to be taken seriously.
“Ciprian, slow down.”
I swallow, ducking into the fae wing and slamming the door behind me.
Luca wrenches it open again a second later, but I don’t turn around.
My skin is crawling. My heart is racing. And I’m over it. Over feeling like nothing I do matters, then turning around and smiling as if I’m not bleeding out on the fucking floor.
“Please, wait!”
I ignore him, charging into our bedroom and heading for the bathroom. Understanding Ciprian can’t come to the phone right now, blow-everything-up-and-walk-away Ciprian has him gagged in a closet—and until I can figure that situation out, I need to hide.
Luca shoves his foot into the crack before I can close the door. Bouncing off his shoe, it slams into the wall. My fingers curl around the edge. “Do you mind?” I sneer.
“What the fuck, Ciprian?” His hazel eyes search my face. “Did I do something to you?”
He’s oblivious, but I can’t do this yet. I need time to get a grip. I’m barely holding on. “Leave me alone.”
For a full minute, Luca studies me before shaking his head. “No.”
“No?” I must have misheard him. “I’m asking for privacy, and you’re telling me no?”
Luca slides between the door and the wall. “You’re not asking for privacy, Ciprian, you’re asking for space, and I don’t like it.”
“Too bad,” I growl. “None of you will ever accept who I am. I don’t know why I’m bothering—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Luca’s mouth drops open. “What the hell are you talking about?”
I look at the ceiling and groan. This is exactly what I wanted to avoid. Arguing, fighting to be heard, and the painful demolition of the pipe dream I’ve created in my head.
A shadow appears over Luca’s shoulder. It’s ominous and unavoidable—Alistair’s signature vibe—which means I’m out of time. Squash it and retreat. Don’t show them it hurts.
“Stop this,” Alistair says softly. “You’re mistaking your issues for his.”
“Who is?” Luca demands. “I don’t even know what’s going on.”
Alistair sighs. “You assumed Ciprian didn’t want Gideon to know about your basilisk because he was ashamed of you. I would be shocked if that thought ever crossed his mind.”
My shoulders droop. Alistair gets it. He didn’t assume the worst of me.
“And you, Casanell, are more hung up on your last name than anyone else. Luca has never cared about that—he was only upset because you lied to him about it.”
I frown. I’m not hung up—that’s not, ugh. He’s wrong; he just doesn’t realize it.
Luca’s eyebrows shoot up. “What is this to you, Ciprian?”
What is this to me? I squeeze the side of the door until my knuckles ache and slowly meet his eyes.
“It’s my sweetest dream turning into my worst nightmare—the beginning of the end I’ll never get over.
Don’t you see? I’ll keep trying to be what you need, but I’ll be too much and not enough all at once, and you’ll get tired of it.
One day, I’ll wake up and all of you will be gone, returning to your lives and forgetting all about the time you fucked around with an enclave heir. ”
“Fucked around with an enclave heir? T-that’s really what you think?” Luca’s voice cracks. “Ali, can you give us a minute?”
Alistair backs away and gets swallowed up by the shadows.
Luca peels my fingers off the door and grabs my wrist. “This isn’t temporary for me, Ciprian. It’s . . . Shit, I need air, but I don’t think I can let you go. Will you come with me?”
I follow him without fighting, my mind too busy replaying his words to do anything else. My tongue is tied; my breathing is choppy; and my heartbeat is louder than our combined footsteps.
The front door opens and closes behind us.
Cool air slaps my cheeks, and I suck in the chilled oxygen greedily.
The moon is high in the sky; its reflection clear and unbroken on the surface of the courtyard fountain. It’s waxing or waning, or whatever space scientists call the skinny, cunty phase. Curling around the stars, the silver crescent stares down at us, demanding entertainment.
I guess Luca and I are here to deliver.
“Where’s the entrance to the maze?”
I blink, trying to focus on reality instead of the elaborate anthropomorphized celestial drama playing out in my head.
“Seriously, Ciprian, how do we get in?” Luca demands. “If you don’t tell me, I’m going to plow through the side.”
That gets my attention. Mom would be pissed if we damaged her maze and launch an investigation that would rival the Spanish Inquisition in scope, breadth, and barbarity.
“It’s right there,” I mutter, pointing at the shadowed gap in the foliage.
Luca grunts and tugs me through the opening. He makes three turns, seemingly at random, before reaching a dead end and whirling to face me. “We’re going to talk now, okay?”
I raise one eyebrow. How am I supposed to know if it’s okay? I don’t have a clue what he’s going to say. “Are you sure you didn’t bring me here to kill me?”
“No jokes,” Luca hisses, raking his fingers through his hair. “I mean it, Ciprian. You and me? We’re going to speak plainly, and neither of us is leaving this maze until we understand each other. I’m serious, if I catch even a whiff of miscommunication . . .”
“You can smell miscommunication? That’s a neat—”
Luca covers my mouth. “No, but I can smell bullshit, and I’m fucking tired of it.” His hazel eyes creep dangerously close to yellow before his shoulders dip. “Aren’t you?”
A shiver runs down my spine. He has no idea.
Luca drops his hand, and his Adam’s apple bobs. “I’m in love with you, Ciprian. Do you love me, too?”
Air evacuates my lungs in a whoosh.
I gulp, and the moon winks at me over Luca’s shoulder.
“I love you, too.” My voice is barely a whisper, but he hears me. There’s no room to doubt it because Luca melts, all the rigid determination abandoning him at once.
He groans, hinging at the waist and bracing his hands on his knees. “Thank fuck.”
“Are you okay?” I reach for him, but he’s already moving. His hands grip my cheeks.
“Shut up,” he gasps. “Please, Ciprian, shut up and kiss me.”
That I can do. Curling my fingers around the back of his neck, I pull his mouth to mine and devour him, leaving no room for anything to get between us.
Luca’s lips are hot and demanding. I can taste what’s left of his temper, and it’s delicious.
Teeth clash. Noses collide, but it’s exactly right.
I’m light-headed and needy, and all I can think about is getting closer to him.
“We can go inside now,” Luca rasps. “If you want.”
My lips curl. “You dragged me all the way out here to talk and only asked one question.”
“I got the answer I needed. As long as it’s true, nothing else matters.”
It’s a cute thing to say, except we both know better. People break up all the time, and plenty of them are still in love. I like his take, though.
“For the record, I don’t think you’re a monster.” I kiss him again for emphasis.
“And I don’t think you’re a spoiled, rich asshole,” Luca says. I lift my eyebrows and he smirks. “Okay, okay, sometimes I do, but I’m into it.”
My face falls. “You’ll get tired of it, though. Everyone does.”
Luca runs his thumb over my bottom lip. “Don’t tell me what I will and won’t do, Ciprian. If I say you’re exactly what I want, I expect you to believe me.”
The urge to argue is nearly impossible to ignore, but I keep my mouth shut. I’m not an idiot, and I want Luca to love me. I want our ragtag group to last until I’m old and gray. The details don’t matter because every time I picture my future, they’re there.
“It feels too good to be true,” I admit.
Luca shakes his head. “Too good to be true? We’ve fought tooth and nail for this. Nothing about it has been easy. Not since the night I killed Roscoe and set this entire chain of events in motion.”
Now it’s my turn to clamp my hand over his mouth. “Keep your voice down,” I hiss. “If anyone here finds out I lied about that, I’ll be in huge trouble.”
Luca nods, and I drop my hand. “This fear you have. Of being too much or not enough, I don’t get it,” he says. “You’ve always been exactly right to me.”
I meet his eyes and stare directly into them, searching for his angle. A flicker of insincerity . . . something, anything, but Luca looks like Luca. Milk chocolate brown hair falling over his forehead; his silver lip ring trapped between his teeth.
Godsdamn me, I believe him. “You do love me.”
He nods.
“And you don’t think I’m too much?”
He shakes his head.
“And you want to make this work long-term, even though I’m an enclave heir and you’re Mister Fringes?”
“Technically, if anyone is Mister Fringes—which defeats the whole purpose of an unincorporated community with no formal governing structure, by the way—it would be Ali.”
Heart pounding, I crash into Luca again, driving him into the hedge and kissing him with everything I’ve got.
With each drag of his lips against mine, he erases my fears, wiping them away until I’m left with nothing but the taste, the smell, and the feel of him—entwined with the flicker of hope I no longer want to smother.
“You did all this thinking we would ditch you?” Luca frowns. I chase his mouth, but he dodges. “I don’t fucking like that.”
“I didn’t think Celine would ditch me,” I admit. “But I thought you and Alistair might eventually force her to choose, and I would get squeezed out. Two-to-one.”
“That’s bullshit.”
I roll my eyes. “And you assuming I thought your basilisk was a monster was perfectly logical, right? As if I haven’t fought for that scaly bastard on multiple occasions.”
Sighing, Luca kisses my neck. “Do you think this works because we’re all a little broken?”
I tilt my head to give him more room, and goosebumps spread along my skin. “I think everyone is a little broken,” I admit. “Our pieces just fit.”
Luca grinds against me, and a bolt of pleasure shoots up my spine. “I like the way our pieces fit,” he growls.
It’s a good line, but I can’t tell him that. I’m the best flirt, and everyone knows it.
Working my hand inside his pants, I swallow his groan as I circle his piercing with my thumb. “I don’t fuck outside,” I whisper, latching onto his earlobe with my teeth and biting down. “I’m too rich and spoiled for that.”
“Then let’s go inside, brat.” His chuckle makes me shudder.
I drag him back to the compound, and for once, my insecurities are silent. I shoot the crescent moon a wink, hoping she enjoyed the show.