35. CHAPTER 35
MOON
The cards blurred in my hand. Another sip. Champagne fizzed across my tongue. Far too easy. Vivi sat to my left, Mikhail across, Aleksei dealing, Noah quietly studying his cards. Let the alcohol blur the clock ticking behind my eyes.
“Are they really going to…” The confession tore free. I swallowed hard. “You know.”
Vivienne didn’t answer. Just took a slow sip, eyes locked on her cards.
Noah stared harder at his hand, knuckles bone-white.
Mikhail pushed his chair back. “I’ll go check on them.”
Aleksei didn’t look up. “None of our business. Irish mafia problems. Russians don’t insert themselves into that mess.” His gaze flicked to me. “He’s been a threat to your family for a long time, Moon. Especially now that you’ve become Cillian’s weakness.”
Weakness.
I poured another drink. The bottle felt heavier than it should.
“Where are you from, anyway?” I asked Noah. “What’s your actual role in this spectacle?”
Vivienne leaned in. “I heard a bunch of rumors at the start of the year—”
Noah cut in quietly, cheeks flushed. “I was adopted. By two women. My mothers. They own a large tech startup. People say I bought my way in here, but I wanted Stanford. Not… this.”
“Tell me about it,” I muttered, knocking back another glass. The room tilted. “I wanted anywhere but fucking Evermourne. Nothing normal happens here. Nothing.”
Vivi patted my back, soft and sympathetic. “You’re doing great, Hyun.”
Aleksei’s voice stayed level, almost kind. “Evermourne prepares us better for what’s out there than any regular school ever could. The world doesn’t do normal, Moon. Not for people like us.”
The door opened. They came back. Cillian first—dirty, bloody knuckles, smears on his shirt that definitely weren’t his. My stomach lurched. Ill. That was the word.
Vivi wrinkled her nose. “God, please shower. You all smell like sweaty, savage men.”
I stood too fast, room tilting, and wrapped my arms around him anyway. Earth, copper, him. I buried my face in his neck. Mine. Filthy and mine.
“Are you drunk, prince?” Cillian asked. His arms locked around me.
I pulled back just enough. “No.” The room kept tilting anyway.
Cillian steered me back into the seat. He shrugged off his jacket. Rolled up his sleeves. Moved to the small sink. Water ran pink. I looked away.
We all sat back down like nothing had happened. Cards. Drinks. Lies.
Sawyer dropped into the last empty chair. “Why the fuck are you all moping? We’re supposed to be drinking. Partying. Poker.”
He grabbed the nearest bottle, tilted it back, throat working as he drained it. “Last night before summer. No more classes. No more dodging annoying fucks. Just freedom.”
He finished it and hurled the bottle at the far wall. Glass exploded.
Aleksei rubbed two fingers over his brow. “Do not throw glass bottles.”
Misha leaned back, grinning. “Whitlock is my kind of crazy.”
The table erupted. Vivi laughed. Noah hid a smile behind his cards. Kaelan snorted into his drink. My laugh came out fractured. Cillian’s hand clamped my thigh, thumb stroking slow circles, dried blood caught beneath his fingernails. My stomach flipped hard. I leaned into the blood anyway.
“So. Who would’ve guessed,” Vivi said, tossing a hundred-dollar chip onto the table. “All of us getting along.”
Aleksei gave her a look. She returned it. They were definitely fucking tonight. She was supposed to be my girlfriend. I took another sip. The bubbles prickled against the roof of my mouth. I ended up with the most beautiful Irish menace instead.
Fuck.
I was drunk.
I went through the motions. Declan was dead. However it had happened, Cillian had come back covered in blood. My chest tightened. I glanced at him.
“Hey. Stop trying to read my poker face, cute guy.” Cillian kept his cards hidden.
That grin—too sharp. I reached for his thigh anyway, squeezed.
Muscle tensed under my palm. His hand covered mine, squeezed back hard enough to hurt.
It didn’t mean everything would be okay. But I let myself believe it.
I didn’t even know how long we’d played. Or how much money I lost. Kaelan and Noah slipped out first. Kaelan still chasing his Birdie through fencing halls in my spinning head. I shook my head hard. No. A hand clamped down on my bicep.
“Fuck, he’s a goner.” Cillian’s voice cut through the fog.
Vivi giggled.
Sawyer hauled me upright. “I’ll take him and Vivi back to Aster. Jesus, Hyung. You’re absolutely cooked.”
Aleksei’s hand settled at Vivi’s waist. “She’s coming with me.”
Vivi blinked at him, then spun and threw both arms around me. “Hyun, you’re so beautiful. It’s actually upsetting.”
I hugged her back hard, nearly toppling us both. “You’re more beautiful. Don’t forget brunch.”
Sawyer groaned behind us. “Every fucking time. This is the last time you two are drinking. I swear to God.”
“I’ll take him back.”
“You’re banned from Aster, remember?”
“I was there earlier today.”
“Why am I not surprised.” Sawyer shoved me toward Cillian.
He slung my arm over his shoulder, locked one around my waist.
“Hi,” I breathed, face too close to his.
“Hi, prince.”
Cillian kept one arm around my waist, steering me down the path. I listed sideways. “…and then the cards got blurry and I kept thinking about your hands when you—” I frowned. “Hang on.” I stopped dead. “Wait. Why are you Irish?”
Cillian snorted, voice a little rough at the edges. “What?”
“No, I mean… why this Irish?” I swayed, gesturing vaguely at his face. “Like… all of it. The accent. The fighting. Why that, specifically?”
He laughed low, steadying me as I drifted left toward the trees. “You’re gone, prince.”
“Optics are stupid,” I announced, cheek sliding against his shoulder. “My father would… he'd hate this.” I nodded to myself. “Good.”
Cillian exhaled. “You’re going the wrong way again. Come here.”
He crouched.
“Piggyback. Before you end up in the fountain.” I climbed on without hesitation, arms loose around his neck, cheek pressed to the warm skin beneath his collar. The world finally gave up.
“You're nice to sleep on.”
A flashlight beam cut across us. Heavy footsteps.
“Hold it.” The guard’s voice was flat, tired. “You’re not Aster, Ashbourne. Get off the grounds.”
I lifted my head from Cillian’s shoulder, blinking slow. “He’sh… with me. S’fine. Ev’rything’s fine. Path’s stupid anyway.”
Cillian hitched me higher on his back. “Just getting him to his room. Then I’m gone.”
The guard hesitated, eyes flicking over my slumped form, then Cillian’s steady stance.
He exhaled hard. “Fine. Get him inside and get out. Don’t make me write this up.”
Cillian didn’t wait for more. He adjusted me higher on his back and kept walking, boots quiet on the path.
I pressed my face into his neck again, humming. “See? Optics're stupid... but you're good at 'em.”
We finally reached my door. Cillian shifted my weight and fished in my pockets for the keys. Fingers brushed warm against my hip. The penguin keychain jingled.
“Tha’ one,” I mumbled, head lolling. “You put the shamrock on it… an’ the crescent moon. Look. They fit together like… like this.” I tried to gesture with one clumsy hand, mashing my fingers so the shamrock and moon pressed together. “See? They’re… s’posed to.”
Cillian’s mouth twitched. “Yeah… that’s… sure, prince.”
He got the door open, hauled me inside, and eased me down onto the bed. His hands moved efficiently, shoes off, jacket, shirt. Cool air hit my skin.
“Let’s have sex,” I slurred, reaching for him.
Cillian caught my wrist gently. “I think you’re too drunk for that. You need to sleep.”
I grabbed at his shirt instead, tugging hard. “But then you sleep here. You’re Aster now. Off’cially. Congratu…lations.” The words tangled badly. “Sleep naked. Like me.”
A rough laugh escaped him. “If I sleep naked I’m gonna get hard, Moon.”
“You’re so… Irish,” I muttered. My stomach rolled suddenly. “Don’ feel too well.”
“Fuck.” Cillian hauled me up fast and got me to the bathroom. He dropped to the floor beside me, one hand holding my hair back as I retched into the toilet. When it finally stopped, he wiped my mouth with a cool cloth and pressed a glass of water into my hand.
I leaned heavy against his shoulder, the tile cold under us.
“I love you,” I whispered.
Cillian went completely still. Then his arm tightened around me. “Say it again.”
I pressed my face into his chest. “No.”
His laugh broke against my hair. “Doesn’t matter. I heard you.”
My eyes kept sliding shut on the bathroom floor. The tile was cold but Cillian was warm and I was done moving.
“Okay, you can’t sleep here.” Cillian hauled me up, half-carrying, half-dragging me back to bed. He stripped down to boxers and pulled me against him under the covers, chest to my back, arm locked around my waist.
I pressed back into him, already drifting. “Do the thing…”
“What thing?”
“The neck,” I slurred, tilting my head just enough.
Cillian exhaled against my skin. Then his mouth found my neck, slow, tender kisses pressed along the column of it.
My body melted further into his.
Declan was really dead. I pushed the thought aside while Cillian’s mouth moved against my neck. Tomorrow could deal with the rest of it.
I was asleep before the next kiss landed.