Chapter 29
Electra
Cillian’s only message to me—sent the morning after—scrolls through my mind: “Still thinking?”
Even though the man’s relentless, he hasn’t followed up with anything else. Could be because I still haven’t answered him.
Seventy-two hours later, I am still thinking.
About how I lost my virginity to a guy I wouldn’t have looked twice at before the gala. And how incredible my first time was—overwhelmingly so—which had brought on the tears.
I’d blamed them on his girth and my torn hymen when they had nothing to do with that and everything to do with my loss of command over my silly heart. Would I have confessed had his stupid phone not rung? Probably not. However, I wouldn’t have turned it into my getaway excuse either.
I’m still thinking about Malachi and the death of my decade-long crush. How can something that monumental fade and leave nothing behind? I’d thought he was the love of my life. Turned out he was just some juvenile obsession.
An obsession that turned into an irritation when he yelled at me about the irresponsibility of going off with a virtual stranger without taking my phone.
When I’d cracked a joke that, thankfully, I’d taken my runes along, Malachi hadn’t laughed.
I had… Until he brought up the fact that Cillian was homeless, human, and therefore not to be trusted.
That had ticked me off. Mainly because it had led me to reassess my trust in Cillian.
I was already wary, because he made me feel things—all sorts of things. Things he might use to exploit my vulnerability, the way my mother had.
So, yeah, seventy-two hours later, I’ve left him on read. And it’s eating me alive.
I let my frustration and indecision fuel the swing I take at my brother’s focus mitt. Although Dorian doesn’t fall back, it does cause his elbow to recoil.
“I heard Monta invited you to his ranch in Texas,” he says, out of the blue.
Sweat trickles past my browbone as I throw another jab into his mitt. I’m almost glad he brought up Gael, if only to give my mind a reprieve from Cillian.
“Are you considering going?”
I shrug before assailing him with uppercuts. “I’m thinking about it.” Before he can hand me a list of all the reasons I shouldn’t give Gael the time of day, I ask, “Is Ines still hiding out in Atlantis?”
“She wasn’t hiding out. She just thought it best to keep her distance from you.”
A vicious smirk curls my mouth. I don’t even care that Ines didn’t lose her magic when Tarian asked her if she’d known about me. If she’d been a good person, she would’ve checked my mother’s claim.
I hope the guilt of my abuse eats Ines alive.
I drag in a breath, then shove it out, wishing I could empty my anger the way I do my lungs. “Is Mal still in love with her after what she did?”
I’d almost broached the subject with Malachi himself the other night, but his relentless tirade had me ready to kick him out.
Dorian’s broad forehead ruffles. “In love with Ines?”
“Well, they’ve been dating for a while, haven’t they?”
“Ines and Malachi? Dating?”
I lower my fists. “They attended the gala together, and then she came to the family dinner…” I say, to jog his memory.
“Ah. That was for Monta’s sake. He’s been— He was pursuing Ines again. I think the news of you being his daughter did more to curb his advances than her and Mal’s fake-dating act.”
Dorian’s confession unhinges not only my jaw but also my brain. It was all an act? Oh…the irony.
“You didn’t know it was for appearance’s sake?”
“No one told me,” I say.
“Really? Not even Callie?”
“Not even her.”
“That’s surprising. Why wouldn’t she tell you?”
Two theories go head to head: she kept it from me because she knew Malachi wasn’t into me, or because she wanted me to give Cillian a genuine shot.
Shot taken. Virginity gone. Malachi forgotten.
Calanthe’s name flashes on my screen, saving me from answering Dorian.
I ditch my gloves on the ab bench and pick up. “Speak of the devil, and the devil calls.”
“Ouch. Here I was planning on embroidering Maid of Honor on a cute book clutch for you,” Calanthe says. “But now it’s getting upgraded to Bitch of Honor.”
While my brother’s eyebrows wing up, I burst out laughing—which feels damn good after the turmoil that’s gripped me for the last three days.
“I’m downstairs. Curbside,” she says.
“Why?” I ask, sobering.
“Because I’m getting married in two weeks, and we don’t have dresses.” When I don’t reply for a prolonged amount of time, Calanthe says, “I know you hate shopping, but I really need my maid of honor.”
I can just picture her flapping her lashes and pouting to soften me.
“We’re only hitting one boutique,” she continues. “Same place I got my gala dress. Promise.”
“Fine.”
She claps—or sounds like she’s clapping. “Oh, tell Dorian that Tarian needs to see him about some urgent matter.”
“Consider him on his way,” I say. “I’ll be down in ten.”
I arrow out of the bedroom that I converted into a home gym, because who needs four bedrooms when they live alone?
I’ve never truly contemplated getting a roommate, but there are moments when the idea of company sounds appealing. Unfortunately, I’d want it to be a friend, and given that Calanthe is all but hitched, my applicant pool is nil.
After grabbing a shower, I pull on a pair of black jeans and a black tank top, then stab my feet into my short boots. I’m still perspiring by the time I plow through the air-conditioned lobby, tossing out a quick hello to Liz, who’s signing for some packages.
“This one’s for you.” She points to a big box.
Weird since I didn’t order anything. “Can you leave it in front of my door?”
“Absolutely, Miss Elle. You have yourself a blessed afternoon now.”
“You too, Liz.” I resume my jog, nearly choking on the humidity outside. The air is so stifling it feels like I’ve gone from freezer to sauna in a single stride.
I dive into Calanthe’s forest-green sports SUV, which is blissfully cool. Though there’s no Bloom’s Blooms decal on the panels, the paint matches the shop’s branding.
“This heat,” I gripe to Diego and Calanthe.
“I know.” Calanthe fans her fingers over the air vents. “How about we head back to my place for a pool party after shopping?” She turns in her seat to look at me. “You can invite Cillian if you want.”
I purse my lips because I’m back to not knowing what I want.
“I’ll drag Dorian to Home Depot. We’ve been needing to go for some time.” Diego peers at me through the rearview mirror, like he’s waiting to see if his offer to keep my brother away will sway me.
“Thanks, but…I’m sure Cillian’s busy.”
“Ask him,” Calanthe says. “So you can be extra sure.”
“Maybe.”
“Okay, spill,” she says. “I thought your date went well! I also thought you’d been holed up with him for the last three days, and that’s why you didn’t answer any of my texts.”
It’s so steamy out that the sidewalk seems to ripple. “The date was nice.”
“But…?” Diego asks, clearly invested.
“But Mal keeps telling me that Cillian has some hidden agenda, and…”
“Don’t listen to him.” Calanthe lowers the volume of the music pumping through the vehicle. “He’s a full-on grump these days.”
“Why? Trouble in paradise between him and Ines?” My lid spasms. “Oh, wait, they’re not actually together, so that can’t be why.”
Even though Calanthe’s eyes are hidden behind big-ass sunglasses, they fail to conceal her widening eyes.
“Why wouldn’t you tell me?” I ask.
She bites down on her lip. “I was going to, but a couple nights ago, I had this dream, which was weird as fuck—”
“For a change?” Diego quips.
Calanthe tips him a smile. “Yeah. Anyway, I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Which is why I didn’t tell you right away.”
I blink, not expecting that she’d held back the truth because of a dream. Then again, premonitory dreams are Calanthe’s thing—the extra gift Gaea granted her along with her additional runes.
I scoot to the literal edge of my seat. “Well, now you have to tell me.”
“Cillian was in Atlantis with us. I think it was for my wedding—except I wasn’t wearing a dress, so maybe it wasn’t that. Either way, he was there. And since we don’t allow just anyone onto the island, seeing him there made me assume he’s meant to become someone…important.”
“And you saw us”—my quickening pulse vibrates my tongue—“together?”
She nods.
“Did you tell Mom? Is that why she encouraged our date?”
“I mentioned it, yes.”
“To Dad and Dorian, too?”
She shakes her head.
“No. I didn’t even tell Diego until now. Look, I know Mal put doubt in your head, but why else would he be in Atlantis?”
“To score runes like Symeon’s exes?” I find myself suggesting. “Maybe Fi invites him.”
Calanthe arches an eyebrow over the rim of her sunglasses.
“Does he even know about our runes?” Diego asks.
“I never asked him,” I say.
“Want me to ask?” Diego offers.
“No, I’ll do it the next time I see him.”
Calanthe’s dimples make an appearance, like she’s happy I’m making plans to see Cillian again.
“Callie is obviously Team Cillian. What do you think of him, Diego?” I ask my brother-in-law.
“I think he’s a hard worker and likes making people happy. To me, those are incredible qualities.” Diego slides into the right lane. “Not to mention, I hear he’s skilled in the kitchen—like yours truly right here—and we great cooks make awesome partners.”
“But is he skilled beneath the sheets?” Calanthe asks.
“And they call this a job?” Diego gushes while I blush so hard I expect my cheeks to be rippling like the sidewalk. “I should really be paying Tarian to hang out with the two of you.”
“Aww.” Calanthe reaches over and gives Diego’s forearm a squeeze. “We love you too, Dieguito.”
“I’m not disclosing anything of that nature in the presence of my brother’s husband.”
Diego draws the car to a stop and looks over his shoulder. “First off, I would never share anything said here with Dorian. Secondly, he needs to cut you some slack. If he says anything to you, you come straight to me.”
“I’m not so much worried about what he would say as what he would do,” I confess.