Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
Since our previous edicts continue to be overlooked, let this one serve as a reminder: you’re still forbidden from using magic in front of humans.
CIPRIAN
She is a force. Unstoppable.
I want her to look at me like she did that night in the bathroom, with her fingers in my hair and her lips dragging against mine, as desire chased the fear from her eyes.
I want her forgiveness.
The wall around Celine is bigger than ever, but I can scale it. I’m stubborn, and with Sheena taking a trip for her own safety, I’ve got nothing but time.
Back in Vegas, Operation Win Celine Over has my full attention.
Maybe I shouldn’t have wrapped a nightmare around myself and snuck into the locker room of the Mouth of Hell.
And sure, it might not have been the best idea in the world to listen to Luca and Celine fuck in that creepy ass tunnel.
I stopped myself from watching barely, but damn did I want to sneak a peek.
They’re both stupid hot. I thought it the first night I saw them in the Naked Fang, and it’s even more true now. But they think I’m scum. I need a chance to explain why I hid my identity.
My gut tells me Luca will be the easiest to convince. His basilisk is cold and unforgiving, but the man is pragmatic—more similar to a demon than most of the shifters I know.
Leaving the venue, I tug my nightmare around myself and send magic out in a scatter pattern—not trying to latch on to anyone’s mind. This type of illusion is looser and far easier to break, but it uses less energy and works fine unless someone is already on guard.
Fingers grip my throat.
My spine slams into the warehouse wall.
I force myself to relax, walling off the memory of the last time I was attacked in the Fringes. Because this isn’t random . . . I know this furious vampire.
Which brings me to the second hardest part of my plan: getting Alistair to forgive me. From my current lack of oxygen, he’s still holding a grudge, and if I’ve learned anything about him in the weeks we spent together, it’s that he isn’t the type to hand out clean slates.
Ignoring the pressure on my throat, I let him strangle me while I do some mental math.
Alistair hates me, but he saved my life and gave me an expensive potion. The odds of him killing me are low, even with how mad he obviously is. Black dots crowd my vision, and I go deliberately limp against the wall.
Hissing, Alistair releases me and glares. “Why are you following us, wrapped in magic like a coward? Haven’t you done enough?”
I ignore the dig. Ali knows perfectly well that, for all my faults, I’m not a coward. He’s just trying to piss me off. “I wanted to say hi.” I shrug. “I’ve decided to stay in town for a while.”
“Why?” he snarls.
I wink at him. “The temperate climate?”
“Don’t be cute.”
“You think I’m cute?” I raise my eyebrows. “I knew it!”
Alistair turns on a dime and disappears into the shadows. I smile. This is step one of as many steps as it fucking takes to get them to trust me again. I’ll make it happen; I’m determined.
When Celine orders her groceries, I bribe the delivery guy and carry them to her door myself.
She takes the bags from me, and I keep myself disguised, only dropping the magic on my face to wink at her as she closes the door.
Her eyes widen, but I put my nightmare back in place and walk away, whistling under my breath.
At the club, I cling to the stage and pretend to be a pencil-shaped man with a nose like a beak.
I tip her recklessly with crisp hundred-dollar bills, placing them on the stage in a symmetrical stack, not a wrinkle in sight.
They’re new and in mint condition. When she smiles at me warmly, I let the nightmare flicker until she frowns. I knew she would love them.
At her next fight, I arrive early, feeding my magical core by consuming the trickles of fear the fighters give off as they enter the warehouse.
On the floor beneath the cage, the noise is deafening. Money changes hands, and the biting smell of violence coats the air. Part sweat, part blood, with a dash of magic—it’s primal enough to make my heart race.
These fights are far from legal, but I understand why they’re popular.
Beneath the adrenaline, there’s a layer of raw authenticity that supernaturals living among humans must hide to blend in. In the cage, the veneer rubs off, and the fighters are celebrated for who they are.
It’s appealing, but from the number of broken bones, burned skin, and loose teeth I’ve seen here, I have no interest in finding out how I would stack up. I prefer to watch.
Celine—I mean Verity—is fighting a wolf shifter tonight. It’s an easy win for her, and the third in a row that’s been a cakewalk compared to her first. Either they’re trying to lull her into false complacency, or they want to keep her on the roster long-term.
I frown and make a mental note to investigate the owners. They could be hiding a bloodthirsty vendetta against angels or strippers—I laugh at myself, shaking my head at my stupidity. As if Alistair hasn’t already learned everything there is to know . . .
He’s more likely to pay someone off to secure easier opponents for her than leave stones unturned, except I doubt he’s dumb enough to do that. Celine would kick his ass. And my spying has made one thing crystal clear: Alistair is still in the doghouse—proof Celine is every bit as stubborn as I am.
Her fist plows into the wolf’s shifted face, and his human body collapses.
I cheer along with everyone else while assessing the guy.
His control is impressive. Shifting only his head and claws while leaving the rest of his body human isn’t easy to do.
Growing up surrounded by shifters taught me that.
The control many of these Fringe fighters have .
. . it makes me wonder why they ended up here to begin with.
Joshua should expand his recruitment—No. I stop myself. I’m not here for the enclave or Dad or Joshua. For once, I’m here for me. For Celine.
Someone drags the wolf shifter from the cage, and Celine blinks out at the crowd like she’s surprised by their ferocious support. I smirk. For someone as confident as she is, she never expects praise, and she’s having a hard time adjusting to how much they love her.
Celine scans the sea of spectators. Her eyes land on me and stop, sparking with irritation. I hold her glare but don’t return it, letting an unhinged smile split my face. For a solid minute, she stares at me. Shivering, I soak in her attention, letting her anger burn to the marrow of my bones.
Fuck, she’s hot when she’s pissed.
The emcee nudges her warily, and Celine blinks. Surprised to find she lost time staring into my eyes? Gods, I hope so. Pivoting, she disappears into the cage wall without a second’s hesitation.
Without the heat of her anger, I shiver.
“She’ll beat your ass for that stunt, Casanell.”
I turn my smile on Luca and clear my throat. “I’m not that lucky, and we both know it.”
He rolls his hazel eyes. “Why haven’t you turned us in?”
Letting my smile fall, I raise one eyebrow. “You know the answer to that question.”
“Celine thinks it’s psychological warfare.”
“Devious.” I snort a laugh. “Celine thinks I’m cooler than I am.”
“Don’t distract her during her fights,” he says. “And watch out for Ali, he’s really pissed—”
“I can speak for myself.” Alistair appears at Luca’s side, a furious glower on his face. His fingers flex around nothing, and I remember how they felt around my throat.
Something crazy takes over me, and I can’t stop myself from messing with him. Leaning forward, I smooth the furrows in his forehead with my index finger. “You shouldn’t frown so much,” I tell him. “People will think you’re bad in bed.”
Alistair bats my hand away and hisses.
Luca laughs. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why would they think that?”
Raising both eyebrows, I lick my lips as I look him up and down. “Imagine how it would feel to never get anyone off . . . wouldn’t that make you frown?”
“I don’t know.” Luca grins. “I’ve never had that problem.”
“Stop entertaining this,” Alistair demands.
“Stop telling me what to do,” Luca says mildly, tossing his arm around Ali’s shoulders.
“Did you lose the winged himbo?” I glance behind them, but there’s no burly angel in sight. He’s been glued to Celine since I returned to Vegas, and I’m dying to know the story there.
“He’s waiting for Celine.”
“Good,” I say. “Should we meet them there?”
Alistair grunts and vanishes into the crowd.
Luca runs his fingers through his hair, making the melted milk chocolate strands stand on end. It should be goofy, so why do I want to kiss him? “Be careful, Ciprian. It’s not safe around here, especially not for you.”
I nod and watch him weave through the spectators. His warning encourages me. It may be dangerous for a Casanell on the Fringes, but Luca called me by my first name. Like an inchworm crossing a six-lane highway, I’m making progress.
Since Celine’s fight is over, there’s no reason for me to hang around any longer. Whistling cheerfully, I push past drunk witches and rowdy shifters, reaching the exit with no problems.
The stars wink down at me, so bright that I can see them over the blinding city lights.
I kick a mangled aluminum can, dribbling the trash all the way to the spot where I street-parked my SUV, pleased to see it hasn’t been stolen or keyed. I press the button to unlock it and squeeze the handle. Tonight went super well. After I get them used to seeing me around again—
My face smacks the roof of the car, nose first.
Someone wrenches my arm behind my back.
I try to break their hold but they’re too strong. I scramble for my magic. I’m about to make whoever decided to touch me without permission run for the hills when I catch her scent and groan. “Hot wings, I thought you’d never find me.”
Celine grabs my hair, yanks my head back, and drives my face into the roof of the car again. It barely hurts. She’s being careful.
“Quit fucking with me,” she hisses. “I can’t waste time worrying about who’s hiding behind every face when my dad could attack at any minute.”
I frown. “Celine, I didn’t mean to scare you, I just wanted to—”
“Play your stupid fucking mind games, I know.”
“Make sure you didn’t forget about me,” I admit, cringing into the cool metal of the roof at how pathetic that sounds. Her grip on my hair loosens, and the warmth of her body disappears a heartbeat later.
I spin to face her, relieved to see she hasn’t left yet. She’s standing across from me, arms crossed tightly over her chest.
“I don’t want to play,” Celine says.
“Are you sure?” I ask quietly but without any bullshit. “Everyone deserves games sometimes. Shit gets too serious without them.” Let me make you laugh. Please. Her face closes off, and she backs up a step. My stomach flips. Like always, I’ve said the wrong thing.
“Maybe that’s true at the enclave,” Celine says. “But the rest of us don’t have that luxury.”
She leaves me leaning against my car, heart pounding out of my chest.
I wait until she turns the corner and groan. “You were magnificent tonight,” I whisper. “Please forgive me.” Then I get into my car and drive back to my lonely apartment.
It’s time to make a new plan.