12. Stevie
CHAPTER TWELVE
STEVIE
It’s a little past one a.m. when Sebastian and I return to the manor.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Sebastian asks again as we walk into the house.
There wasn’t much spoken between us besides dry, uninteresting comments we exchanged about the weather on the ferry ride and drive back.
But he did ask me how I was feeling about ten times, though, which I found both heartwarming and irritating.
Each time, I replied with the same answer of “I’m fine. ”
I place a hand on my hip, thinking about the masquerade ball. “You’ve asked me that already. I’m fine.”
“I’m just making sure. Tonight was a lot, and it’s probably when you saw those people in person in the library.”
“Like, this is all real?” I chew on the side of my lip, dumbfounded.
“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “The Black Veil Society is real, and we’re going to be the ones to bring them down.”
I’m not one to admit I’ve never experienced dark, intrusive thoughts—after all, humans are inherently evil in their own way. Knowing at some point I’ll have to help Sebastian and his team end the lives of the people who stood in front of me earlier this evening is a bit jarring.
But I think of the innocent lives lying on my table over the years of being a mortician. Most died before what society would deem as their “time to go,” and the possibility of me now holding the power to prevent some from leaving this earth too soon is exhilarating—and deeply disturbing.
“I know. I’m aware of what I agreed to.” Suddenly, my stomach growls. Hunger or nerves—perhaps I should eat. “Not to change the subject, but I’m hungry. Do you think Ben has anything pre-made in the fridge?”
“Absolutely,” he says.
We both head toward the kitchen.
Nightlights illuminate the tops of the tall cabinets and underneath them, giving only give a small, dull light source in the room’s darkness.
I walk straight toward the refrigerator, but Sebastian’s hand comes out to stop me. “I’ll get it for you.”
I smile. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I don’t mind,” he says, opening the fridge. “We have chicken parmesan, stuffed bell peppers, a chef salad—” He names off the prepped food from behind the door.
“I’ll take the chef salad.”
“Perfect.” Sebastian pulls out the salad and three different dressings and places them onto the large island in front of me.
My mouth waters at the sight of the food. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until now.
Empty-handed, Sebastian slumps down into the chair next to mine.
“You’re not going to eat?”
“I’m not hungry,” he replies.
“Oh.”
“Tragic poem, though.” He leans in, his breath dusts the edge of my lips, and a tingle forms. I swallow hard, wanting to pull back. “And although most people don’t realize what a hopeless romantic he was, Annabel Lee focuses on his eternal love, but an incredibly tragic loss.”
With everything in me, I try to hide the shock and the flutters that spontaneously appeared inside my chest, and somehow I’m able to calm myself enough to reply. “I’m impressed.”
“So am I.” A smirk playing on his lips. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a hopeless romantic, Stevie.”
“I’m not. Actually, I think that’d be furthest from the truth.
The reason I admire Mr. Poe so much is because of his respect for the dead.
” I draw back, but only with enough space to pop a cherry tomato into my mouth.
“And not to mention, the intensity of his melancholic personality. I find it appealing.”
Sebastian’s eyes flick down to my lips, then back up as quickly. “You’re a tortured romantic then?”
“I’m not any type of romantic.”
“It is said he was in love with Annabel Lee, correct?” he points out.
Is he insinuating I somehow have the hots for a dead guy?
“I explained why I respect his work, and it has nothing to do with my wanting to bang him.”
“Are you sure?”
“Do you think that I secretly get my rocks off with thoughts of Edgar Allan Poe? Please.” I roll my eyes, drawing back.
He finally mirrors me, creating a less tense space between us. “I don’t know.”
“Really?”
“I guess the only way you can convince me otherwise is to tell me what you think about when you lie in bed at night…” His endless dark pupils widen as he captures my eyes with his. “When only the sound of a low hum echoing through your apartment walls can be heard.”
Lightning shoots up my back, and the thought of Sebastian knowing—taking part—in a moment like that with me is too much after the night we’ve had.
The betrayal of arousal shifts into frustration with myself. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”
With his arms folded over his chest, he shrugs. “Fair enough. I’ll think what I want to think then.”
“Suit yourself.”
Sebastian and I sit elbow to elbow for a few moments before he breaks the silence. “You still want to do this?”
“Yes,” I state, taking another bite of food.
“Don’t get annoyed with me,” he says firmly. “I’m going to ask you every step of the way.”
“I’m sure you will.”
He notices my empty plate and rises to take it to the sink.
“Well…” I yawn, craving relief from his brooding energy. “I think I’m going to head to bed.”
I need to go into work for a bit tomorrow to check in with Noah and Kristine and check the funeral schedule, among countless other things.
“Stevie?” he says my name as I’m leaving the kitchen.
“Hmm?”
“The Annabel name thing turned out well this time, but if we’re going to be partners, I need you to discuss everything with me first.”
Sebastian is right. What we’re doing is no game. People will die, and if I want to make sure it isn’t one of us, then I have to set my own ego aside.
“I know, and I’m sorry,” I admit truthfully. “But I want you to trust me as well.”
A dark shadow moves across Sebastian’s face, hardening his features, sending a chill up my spine. “I don’t really trust or like anyone. Don’t take it personally.”
My breath catches in my throat. It reminds me that he isn’t simply the easygoing, good-looking cousin of my sister’s boyfriend. He’s a dangerous and calculating serial killer who has another side to him.
“I get it.”
“Glad we’re on the same page.”
And with a subtle smile, with danger lurking behind it, I’m almost brought to my knees as the urge to prove myself to him takes over. “I have to head to Nevermore for a few hours tomorrow morning.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, I need to check in and do some admin work.”
Sebastian’s eyes once again find my mouth, but they only focus there for a second before tracing up my jaw and along my cheekbone. “What time?”
“I don’t know. Around eleven, probably.”
“Okay, I’ll follow you over then.”
My eyebrows snap together at his response. “Wait, what? Follow me?”
He nods. “Absolutely. You’re not going anywhere outside this property alone until this project is complete.”
I want to push back, I really do, but I’m exhausted. If he wants to sit outside my mortuary all afternoon while I work, then that’s his decision. “Fine. See you in the morning.”
“Oh, and Stevie?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for telling me where you’re going,” he tosses over his shoulder as he exits the kitchen and heads toward the West Wing. I nod to myself because he clearly can’t see me now, and I’m not sure what else to say. “Good night.”
“Night,” I say under my breath.
The only sound I hear is the clacking of my heels on the tiled floor the entire way down the hall.