Chapter 30
THIRTY
The realm feeds. Decide what part of you it gets.
LUCA
I search every inch of the shuck’s house while he’s gone.
I don’t know what I expect to find: a smoking gun, a trapdoor to hell, or maybe a collection of dirty magazines in a dusty shoebox. But there’s nothing suspicious or interesting.
Instead of being relieved that he isn’t hiding an army under his bed, my restlessness gets worse.
My basilisk rattles in my chest. It’s angry. With the situation or me, I don’t fucking know, but the outcome is the same: I can’t sit still or I’ll lose my mind.
“If I can’t clean, you can’t ransack,” Celine says, leaning against the doorframe to Riven’s room. Her hair is loose, hanging in soft red waves around her face.
“You’re beautiful,” I say, my voice raspy.
Celine raises one eyebrow. “And I’m pretty sure you’re manic. Do you want to talk about it?”
I throw my head back and groan at the ceiling. It’s made of rock, like everything else in this house. Shiny and black, gray marbled veins run through the stone, but they’re only noticeable if you look closely.
“I’m the reason you can’t go home.” I tug on the ends of my hair until the bite of pain overpowers the rattle in my chest.
“Yeah,” Celine says. “And I’m the reason you’re here in the first place. Should we embrace our guilt and walk off the side of the mountain together? Romeo and Juliet style?” She makes a whistling sound, then pantomimes a big splat.
I force a smile and shake my head. “We aren’t that dumb, baby.”
“Exactly.” Celine walks to my side, wraps her arms around my waist, and rests her head under my chin. “We’ve got this, Luca. I-I know we do. We didn’t make it this far to lose each other now.”
“Isn’t that what all the couples in the sad stories think, though? No one falls in love expecting it to end in tears.”
Celine hums softly. “Don’t get mad at me, but I think I did. It’s why I panicked when you told me you loved me. It wasn’t because I didn’t love you back; it was because I thought it would trigger the end for us. Move us into our final act or something.”
“That’s a little spooky.” Shivering, I inhale and fill my nose with Celine. Her natural scent is mixed with Riven’s unfamiliar toiletries, but she still smells like mine. I promised her I would always protect her and never lie, but I don’t know how to do both this time.
“Your basilisk,” she whispers. “Is it afraid?”
The rattling in my chest stops. In this, at least, I can be honest. “Not when we’re with you.”
Celine squeezes me tighter, as if she can keep me intact with her strength alone. “I’ll protect your basilisk too, Luca. It’s part of you.”
I make a noise of protest, and she presses one finger to my lips. “No, I need you to understand this. I love you—all of you—and that includes the basilisk. You’ve got to love yourself.”
I frown. I do love myself, don’t I? Not in an annoying, self-obsessed douchebag way, but I’m a confident guy. I look out for the people I care about, I make a mean drink, and . . . pretend the monster inside me is temporary. A fever I’ll eventually sweat out.
The realization makes me feel exposed. A lightbulb turning on, not above my head like an enlightened cartoon character, but inside my skull, roasting my insides until I can practically smell burning brain. Fucking gross, but accurate.
The air in the room fizzes and condenses into a tall, cloaked figure. Riven stares at us blankly for a second, then scans our surroundings, as if he’s visually confirming that he found us cuddling in his bedroom.
“Busted,” I say, nibbling on the shell of Celine’s ear.
She pulls away from the hug and faces him. “Did you learn anything?”
He nods. “I only want to explain it once,” he mutters. “Come to the living room.” Then he strides from the room, his cloak billowing dramatically.
I roll my eyes and flap my hands behind my ass as I trail after him. Celine chuckles, but my heart is racing. Something tells me I’ll need every drop of calm I can find to handle whatever is about to come out of my enemy’s mouth.
“We aren’t fated mates.” I cross my arms. “I’m pretty sure those are made up, anyway.”
The living room is open-concept. The glass wall adds to the impression of endlessness, but it’s too small for me right now. I stand a few feet away from the couch, trying to get my pulse under control. It’s especially embarrassing since everyone in the room can hear it.
“They aren’t made up.” Ciprian glances between Celine and me, squinting like he’s trying to see inside us. “I know a fated pair.”
I cock my head at his tone. Evasive Ciprian is back. He’s become so honest recently; it takes me off guard to see him hiding another secret. I can’t handle it.
“And?” I demand. “How did they know?”
“The pull.” Ciprian scratches his chin and shoots me a wary look. “Until they sealed the bond, it physically hurt them to be apart.”
Definitely not fated mates, then. I glance out the window, surprised by how much it stings to hear something I already know confirmed. Ice is falling—faster than snow—tiny frozen meteors crashing to the ground.
“So what?” I turn to Riven. “I’m supposed to gnaw on Celine and hope something happens? That’s your plan?”
“Your intent matters. Fate has a magic of its own, and choice does too.”
“Oh, yeah. How could I forget? I’m supposed to manifest this mystical chosen mate bound that I’ve never heard of before. That’s good stuff, Riven. Should I click my heels together too?”
Alistair shakes his head. “I doubt the sarcasm will help.”
I drop onto the couch and cross my ankle over my opposite knee. “I’m being sarcastic because this is bullshit. Even if it did somehow work, I’m not biting Celine. It’s too risky.” I narrow my eyes at Riven. “Did you even ask your mysterious contact what could happen if it went wrong?”
“I did,” he says.
My eyebrows shoot up. “And?”
“She wouldn’t say.”
“Perfect.” I slap my thighs. “Come here, Celine, and tell me where you want my teeth.”
“Behind your lips for now,” she says, frowning at me. “You’re not taking this seriously, Luca.”
My foot drops to the floor, dislodged by my bouncing knee. “Take what seriously? Him?” I point at Riven. “How can you expect me to do that when he waltzes in here with a preteen’s fated mate daydream and tells me it will stick if I just believe?”
Celine pushes up from the couch. “I expect you to believe in us. I expect you not to give up. I’m sorry.” She backs away from me and shakes her head. “I need a minute.”
Then she’s gone. Malach trails after her, and I feel like a rat bastard.
“Good work,” Ali says.
“Fuck off,” I hiss, rolling my lip ring between my teeth until it hurts. They don’t get it. They aren’t the problem, and they didn’t get their hopes up for a real solution only to hear a load of bullshit. “It’s not possible,” I mutter.
“Are you sure about that?” Ciprian squats in front of me and presses down on my knees to hold them still. “Because you’re buzzing right now. What does your basilisk think?”
What does my basilisk think? Fuck if I know. It’s going insane inside me, crashing against its enclosure, demanding I shift and—my blood chills as my fangs descend and coat my mouth with venom.
“I can’t bite her, Ciprian.” I run my tongue over the needle-sharp points. “I’m venomous. It would kill her.”
“Are you sure?” he asks gently. “Because I accidentally made eye contact with you in basilisk form in the arena, and I’m still standing here.”
I frown. “Are you saying I’m only deadly sometimes?”
Ciprian shakes his head. “I’m saying intent must matter more than you think. Your basilisk didn’t want me dead, so I’m not.”
“You don’t know anything about it,” I say stiffly. I’m dangerous. My basilisk is a killer. Suggesting otherwise . . . No, I can’t accept that.
“Maybe not, but I was raised with shifters. They’re ruled by instinct. Accidents happen, sure, but rarely. They’re excellent at knowing the difference between pack and prey.”
“Basilisks don’t have packs.” I sound sullen, even to my own ears.
Ciprian’s black eyes sharpen, then he lunges, tackling me against the couch. I open my mouth to tell him to knock it off, but he presses his lips to mine and plunges his tongue into my mouth. It drags against my fangs, licking at the venom dripping from the tips.
I shove him off, heart pounding against my ribs.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I gasp. “My fangs. The venom.” I press two fingers to the base of Ciprian’s neck, sagging against the couch when his pulse beats its regular staccato rhythm. “Are you okay? How do you feel?”
He winks at me. “Not my favorite Luca flavor—your cum tastes better than your venom—but I’m fine.”
“Idiotic,” Alistair mutters, looking between us with red-tinged eyes.
“You’re deranged, demon,” Riven says. “Basilisk venom kills in seconds. Your death would have been excruciating.”
“Sure.” Ciprian kisses my jaw. “But proving my point was delicious.”
“Celine will be mad at you,” I say.
“No, Celine is mad at you, Luca. She’ll be pleased to hear I was proactive and removed one of your excuses on her behalf.”
I drop my head against the couch and groan. “I’m scared.”
“I know.” Ciprian squeezes my hand. “But Celine won’t be. She trusts you as much as I do.”
“I do too,” Ali whispers. “And as much as I’d like to see more data to back this theory up before we attempt any more trial runs”—he shoots Ciprian a pointed look—“we’re working with limited resources here.”
My stomach flips.
They’re saying nice things to me, but I want them to shut up. It’s as if I’ve got them fooled in the worst way. They think I’m safe. Incapable of hurting them, but they don’t understand what the basilisk is like.
The rattle beats a frenzy in my chest. This is Riven’s fault. He’s the reason I’m backed into a corner with no way out. I shove myself up from the couch.
“The only limited resource is Celine, and I won’t risk her life for anything.” I’m yelling; I realize that, but I can’t do a damn thing about it. I’m a pressure cooker. The frantic energy is hellbent on finding a way out—with or without my permission.
Eyes wide, Alistair reaches for me.
I back away from him until I bump into the glass wall. It’s cool against my sweaty palms, almost the same temperature as the liquid rushing into my eyes.
No. No. No. No. No. Not now. Not ever. Get back and leave us alone! I yell at the basilisk, punching and kicking and shoving and biting until it curls up in the corner, beaten and cowed by my fury.
You’re a poison to her, I tell it. Stay back or I’ll lose her.
The rattling fades.
I sag against the glass and slide to the floor, covering my face with my hands. If I can’t see them, I can’t hurt them, right? They’ll be safe from me. From it.
Without the rattle, I’m bruised, as if I just beat the shit out of myself.
Humiliated, too. This isn’t who I am. I’m supposed to be the fucking lighthouse—a spinning beacon, defeating the darkness and bringing hope to drowning sailors lost in hungry waters.
At the very least, I’m the guy who tosses you the rope, then makes you a cup of coffee while you warm up and dry off.
These feelings suck. I don’t want them anymore, but the basilisk didn’t deserve this.
I’m sorry. I think the words but get nothing in response. The hollow emptiness is weird. We’ve always been separate yet squished together. Awkward, resentful roommates—me and the dangerous part of me I’d rather forget about.
How can Celine love a monster?
She loves usss. We keep her sssafe. She’s ourssss. The voice is small. If I wasn’t collapsing in on myself like a dying star, I doubt I would notice it at all.
You won’t hurt her? I think the question, feeling stupid for trying to communicate with the beast at all.
Never. I ssswear it.
This binding thing. Could it work?
It doesn’t answer this time, but now that I’m listening, I feel it—the basilisk isn’t sure. In fact, it’s only sure about one thing: that it will never in a trillion lifetimes hurt a single hair on Celine’s head.
Can we risk it? I ask, running my tongue over the tips of my fangs.
This time, when it replies, the words are so clear they may as well be spray-painted in graffiti block letters on a fucking bridge abutment.
We mussst. Thisss realm will kill usss if we ssstay.
My fangs nick my tongue. Blood mixes with venom until it’s all I taste. I asked, though, and I guess I have my answer. What I do with this information is up to me. And Celine.
I open my eyes. They’re painfully dry.
Ciprian, Ali, and Riven are staring, but they’re trying to be casual about it. As if I didn’t just have a meltdown then retreat inside myself for a Luca-on-Luca pep talk.
Ridiculoussss.
My lips twitch. “Where’s my girl?” I ask, accepting Ciprian’s hand and letting him pull me to my feet. “I’ve got some explaining to do.”
Something crashes in the bedroom, and then we’re all running that way.