Chapter 19
NINETEEN
Everyone has a monster inside them.
ALISTAIR
A teenager walks into our cell.
She’s favoring her left side; the weight of the basket she carries too much for her. There’s an armful of stinky, dried plants tucked under her other arm.
“Hyacinth!” Celine scrambles to her feet as the door shuts with a heavy thud.
“Riven sent me,” she whispers, glancing back as if she expects to find someone looking over her shoulder. “But he told me to pretend I came on my own.” A blush stains her cheeks. Squaring her shoulders, she focuses on the bed. “Can I examine him?”
I snarl, and Ciprian shoves me. “She’s a powerful healer. If you scare her off, Ali, I swear.” He leaves the threat hanging between us, and I raise my hands, palms up.
Celine manages a wobbly smile. “The manticore’s tail pierced his neck. Can you help him?”
The teen—a witch, I realize with shock—ignores me, leaning over the bed to assess Luca’s neck. “Who sealed this?”
“Alistair,” Celine says. “He’s a vampire.”
The strange blonde girl glances at me and nods. “You saved his life. His basilisk side can handle the venom, but combined with the blood loss . . .”
My hands curl into fists. Her words don’t make me feel better.
If anything, I feel worse. Trapped on the sidelines with Malach, as useless as crown molding in a stable.
Why should I be praised for my cursed, coagulating spit?
Good work, Ali. Your hemostatic saliva—which you didn’t earn and rarely use for anything that could be mistaken for altruism—saved the day.
Utter nonsense.
“Why won’t he wake up?” Celine asks.
“His body is using all its energy to fight the venom.”
“Can you help him, kid?” Ciprian asks.
The witch nods and pulls several tubs and vials from her basket. After cleaning the wound, she sews the edges together and rubs a thick paste into Luca’s skin.
I’m itching to interrogate her. She works for the enemy. How do we know she’s not here to finish Luca off? But Celine and Ciprian appear to trust her. Is that enough for me?
Hyacinth begins to chant, and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end as her magic fills the room. It reminds me of the Fringes, with none of the energy I’ve come to expect from this realm. Luca’s wound reacts immediately, the skin knitting itself back together.
The witch nods with satisfaction and hands Celine the bundle of dried plants. “To replace the others.”
Celine clasps her hand. “Thank you.”
With a shy glance around the room, the kid nods, then goes to the door and knocks three times. It opens, and she leaves as quickly as she arrived.
Luca already looks better. There’s color in his cheeks, but I can’t make myself relax until I lay my hand against his chest and feel his heart beating against my palm.
Silence falls over the room.
Guards drop off food.
Night falls.
We settle around the bed, held hostage by exhaustion and tension as much as the locked door. Celine eyes the shower longingly. It’s completely exposed, without even a glass wall to fog and blur the view. “I’ve got to get clean,” she blurts. “My skin is crawling.”
She strips and showers quickly.
Ciprian swaps with her as soon as she’s done, kissing her cheek as they pass each other. Celine shrugs into a shirt and crawls into bed beside Luca.
By the time Ciprian steps out of the shower, he’s no longer steady on his feet. I watch him dress, jaw clenching as he stumbles to the bed and curls against Luca’s other side.
My shower is quick, and the water is ice-cold by the time I climb out. I tell Malach, an apology in my voice. He nods, scooping cold water from the shower and cleaning himself without fully undressing. It’s cold in here, even with the fire, so I don’t blame him.
When it’s time to select a side of the bed, I pick Ciprian’s. I want to hold Celine, but Malach does too, and I know he won’t ask. I know what it’s like to starve for her.
Knowing it will piss Ciprian off is just a bonus.
I settle in behind him. He stiffens before curling into Luca’s side with his back to me. I try not to touch him, but it’s almost impossible without falling off the bed.
Ciprian huffs. “I’m not radioactive, you know.”
“I’m trying to be respectful,” I whisper.
“And failing,” he says. “You’re only succeeding in being annoying.”
“You don’t want me to touch you,” I tell him. “You hate me, remember?”
His answering sigh is heavy. Then he grips my wrist and tugs me onto my side until my chest touches his back. “I’m too tired for more drama tonight,” he says.
Some of the tension leaves my body.
I’m exhausted—my insides scraped raw from the helpless fury that consumed me during the fight. Sometimes the heat of anger is comforting, but tonight it burned me, and I’m too wrung out to lie to myself.
The others fall asleep, their breathing deep and steady. Except for Ciprian.
There’s a lot I need to say to him. I just don’t know how.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “About using Sheena against you. I understand what she means to you now, but even if I didn’t, even if she was a total bitch, it was wrong of me.
Cruel even. Celine and Luca told me it was.
I didn’t get it then. Everything was out of control, and whenever I imagined trusting you with their safety, my body went ballistic. ”
He doesn’t respond for so long that I wonder if I’m talking to myself.
“You can’t force trust, Alistair. You either trust me or you don’t.” Ciprian sighs deeply. “Too much has happened. It may be too late to fix us.”
He’s telling me we aren’t friends. That we’re too broken to be salvaged, but my stomach leaps when he says “us.” It doesn’t understand the context, only that it likes hearing him lump us together.
It makes me brave, or desperate, or dumb—maybe a combination of all three—because I inch closer to him, tighten my grip on his waist, graze my nose against his damp hair, and whisper, “I hope not,” in his ear.
Ciprian doesn’t respond.
But he doesn’t shove me off the bed either.
I tell myself it’s a good sign.
I wake to a low, pained groan.
“Hey, Luca,” Ciprian whispers. “Easy there, you scared us.”
“I-is everyone—?”
“Right here. We’re all here. Safe.”
My arm is still slung around Ciprian’s waist. I stretch my hand out to touch Luca.
His skin is warm and smooth. Alive. My gut pinches at the memory of the blood, his injury, and the empty, endless nothing where his heartbeat should have been.
My fingers crawl across his chest until I can feel the steady thump.
“Ali?”
“You need to rest,” I whisper.
“Celine,” Luca gasps. “Where’s Celine?”
Delicate, strong fingers lace with mine over his heart. “I’m here, Luca.”
His chest rises and falls beneath our hands as he releases a puff of air. “Baby?”
“Yeah?”
“Am I hallucinating or are Alistair and Ciprian spooning?”
Ciprian groans, and I brace for a shove. “It’s cold in here,” he says.
“Ah,” Luca says. “You’re cuddling for warmth. Makes perfect sense.”
“Shut up.”
“But I’m hurting.”
“Poor baby,” Ciprian says. “Maybe Celine can kiss it and make it better.”
“No way.” Celine’s fingers twitch against mine. “Luca lost a lot of blood. He can’t afford to send what’s left to his cock.”
“Yes, baby,” Luca moans. “Please keep talking about my cock.”
I chuckle, relieved to hear him joke, even with the rasp in his voice. “How do you actually feel?” I ask.
“Hard.”
“Be serious.”
He grabs mine and Celine’s joined hands and drags them down his body. “Is this serious enough for you?” He’s still naked from the shift, and I have to be stern with myself to keep from playing with his piercing.
“Too serious; you’re hurt,” I say.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Ciprian yanks the covers out of the way, then crawls between Luca’s legs. “The poor guy almost died. He deserves as much sloppy head as he wants.”
“Listen to Ciprian,” Luca says.
“I’d rather not,” I grunt.
Ciprian grabs Luca’s hand, kisses it, then drags it into his hair. “Tell me how you want it.”
“I want you.”
I gulp. Luca finds it so easy to be honest. I wait for jealousy to drag me under, but it doesn’t. With the flickering flames bathing the bed in warm yellow light, all I feel is heat.
My eyes adjust quickly, and I watch, breathless, as Ciprian licks the tip of Luca’s cock and runs his tongue around the head lazily.
Celine’s hand leaves mine to cradle Luca’s cheek as she kisses him. “Don’t even think about moving,” she tells him.
“Why the fuck would I move? I’ve got everything I want right here.”
It should sound outrageous. We’re imprisoned on the monster realm, but I’m oddly at peace too.
Maybe it’s because I’m not alone anymore.
My stomach flips. The family I imagined was nothing like this, but the people in this bed have stuck by me, even after my mistakes.
Giving me chances to make it up to them.
And I’m starting to think that’s all I need.
I drag my fingers to the base of Luca’s cock and guide it back to Ciprian’s lips. His eyes flicker to me, glittering black jewels in the firelight. They narrow, and I worry I’ve pushed him too far until he opens his mouth and swallows Luca’s cock.
“Ciprian,” Luca groans. “Your mouth is perfect.”
“He’s good with it, isn’t he?” Celine whispers. “He took me apart on the back of my bike. Twice. Out there in the open . . . anyone could have driven by and seen his tongue disappearing inside me.”
I hiss, and my pants tent. I despise the idea of a stranger witnessing Celine’s pleasure. It belongs to us, and only us.
Ciprian pulls off Luca’s cock with a pop and licks him slowly. “You’re wrong about that, hot wings. Anyone who drove by would have seen the desert and nothing else. Your pussy was mine and mine alone that night, and I wasn’t about to share the view.”
“Good.” The word tumbles out of me, and Ciprian’s eyes lock with mine. I drag the tip of Luca’s cock to his mouth, grazing his piercing against Ciprian’s puffy lips. Fuck. They’re so hot.
Celine’s breath catches as Luca does something to her that I can’t see. “Luca, you can’t. We have to be quiet. Malach is asleep.”
“No, I’m not.”
Everyone freezes, including Ciprian, whose mouth is more than full.
“Shit, I’m sorry—”
“Why are you sorry?”
“Because . . . well, it’s rude,” Celine says.
“I should be the judge of that, shouldn’t I?”
“What?”
Ciprian chokes, his laughter garbled by cock, and pulls back. “There’s no need to interrogate him, Celine.”
“I’m not, it’s just—” Celine sputters. “I mean, I didn’t realize.”
“That Malach was awake, watching me put on a masterclass in dick sucking while Luca played with your pussy?”
“Yes,” Celine snaps. “Thank you for the recap.”
“You’re welcome.”
Luca uses his grip on Ciprian’s hair to nudge his head down, cutting off whatever quip he might have come up with next.
I prop up on my elbow to glance at Malach, unconvinced, like Celine, that he’s okay with this. The furthest from the fire, he’s barely more than a hulking shadow.
His green eyes are locked on Ciprian’s bobbing head, but that changes when Celine moans again. She grabs Luca’s forearm, and Malach grumbles low in his throat, “Do you stop him for my sake or yours, my truth?”
Celine’s eyelashes flutter against her pale skin. “Does it matter?” she asks.
“Yes,” Malach says emphatically. “I never want to be the reason you sacrifice. Not happiness or pleasure. The day you give up something on my behalf is the day I’ve failed you.”
My eyebrows shoot up, and Ciprian groans. Malach certainly has a way with words. I’m no expert on the subject, but I think that’s one of the most romantic things I’ve ever heard.
“But—”
“Gods above, Celine,” I interrupt her. “Malach’s a grown angel. He’ll tell you if it’s not what he wants.”
The silence that follows is absolute, and it doesn’t take me long to kick myself for opening my big mouth. Celine can make her own decisions. She doesn’t need my—
“Okay,” she whispers. “Touch me.”
All my blood heads south.