Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
One chance is an opportunity. Two means you wasted the first one.
CELINE
The covers are bunched in my lap, my wings blanketing more of the bed than they are. I stare at Luca in shock. What the fuck just happened?
I woke to Alistair kissing my neck. Pulse racing, I was about to give in and kiss him back. Then I realized something was off. He wasn’t kissing my neck; he was sucking on it. Scraping his teeth against the skin . . . everything but driving his fangs in.
“Are you okay?” Luca asks for the tenth time.
I shoot him an annoyed look. “I’m fine. Alistair wouldn’t hurt me.”
Luca scrubs his hand through his hair, chewing on his lip ring. “Normally, I would agree with you, but that wasn’t the normal Alistair, baby.”
I open my mouth to deny it, then close it again. He’s right. Alistair was lost to something. His thirst, maybe? Except he had every opportunity to bite me and didn’t.
That must mean something.
“What did he say before bed?” I ask, remembering how we found him hunched over the headboard. “Something about every swallow being agony?” He shut us down, but we should have pushed harder.
Luca groans. “I don’t remember exactly but it was something like that. He seemed strung out.”
“He was off last week too,” Ciprian says, popping his head into my room. He doesn’t bother pretending he wasn’t listening. “I thought he was just mad at me, but that doesn’t make complete sense. Are you—”
“Don’t ask if I’m okay.” I sink into the pillows and consider pulling one over my face and screaming until I’m hoarse.
Luca glances between Ciprian and I, his brow furrowed. “When was the last time he drank from one of you?”
Ciprian shuffles his weight awkwardly. I squirm against the mattress.
Luca rolls his eyes. “Don’t be such babies. I’ve watched him bite both of you and turn you into mindless, horny fuck monsters. There’s no reason to be embarrassed, I’m trying to put together a timeline.”
I sigh and glance at Ciprian’s unusually pink cheeks. “Unless I missed something between you two, he drank from me last. It was right before we learned who you really were.”
Luca raises his eyebrows. “That was weeks ago.”
“But he drinks bagged blood all the time,” I argue. “I’ve seen it at his place.”
Luca shrugs. “I’m not saying it makes sense, but something has him rattled.”
“He left his shoes behind.” Ciprian points to the boots tucked beside the bedroom door. “Shoved past me barefoot and crazed.”
“I’ll call and check on him.” Luca grabs his phone off the nightstand and walks into the bathroom.
My back itches. I’m alone with Ciprian, and we’re both studiously ignoring the enclave-sized elephant in the room. Dark circles frame his darker eyes, the kind that come from more than one sleepless night.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he says.
“How am I looking at you?” It’s a bad idea to antagonize him, but I can’t help myself.
“Like I’m about to grow a monster head.” Ciprian points at the closed bathroom door. “That’s your boyfriend’s issue, not mine.”
Snarky motherfucker. I sit up straight, my hands fisting in the blanket. “If you barge into my bedroom looking like shit, I’m going to look,” I tell him. “Why did you let us sleep this long, anyway? What are you plotting?”
Ciprian closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’ve been busy making all the paintings in your apartment crooked—what the fuck do you think? I’ve been racking my brain for the last twelve hours, trying to figure out how to keep you alive.”
He advances on me, and for the first time since I met him, he looks more demon than human. Even with a bitter joke tossed in, Ciprian Casanell is being deadly serious. It scares me.
“I don’t need your help,” I insist, twitching as lie pain shoots through my nerves. My magic is hateful. It makes it nearly impossible to win an argument. “I won’t let you kill me, Ciprian, and if you even think about laying a finger on Luca.”
He groans. “Be so fucking real right now, because there’s no way you don’t know that I’m obsessed with you both.
I think about laying a finger or ten on both of you fifteen times a day.
That isn’t the problem, hot wings, and it doesn’t make this situation simpler either.
You’re in the biggest mess I’ve ever seen. ”
Ciprian’s blunt words bring the full force of my guilt roaring to the surface. My wings tremble, and I force them into my body before they can reveal anything damning.
“It’s my fault,” I whisper, rolling my shoulders to help with the itch. “I never should have gotten involved with any of you; I knew the risk.”
I’m not sure why I tell Ciprian what I’m thinking. He didn’t even ask, I volunteered the information. Even knowing who he is, I want to confide in him. It’s pathological.
“Do your magic,” Ciprian says, planting his hands on his hips.
I blink at him, confused by his exasperated tone. “Why?”
“Because we have a hellish immediate future ahead of us, and I don’t want to have to repeat myself after you inevitably call me a liar.”
I activate my truth runes, too curious to bother arguing. He’s better at it anyway, and I hate to lose. My magic is so near the surface I could probably tell if he was lying without the runes—like when I called Alistair out last night—but this way is foolproof.
Once my skin is crowded with golden marks, I look at Ciprian, raise my eyebrows, and gesture for him to get a move on.
He rolls his eyes. “Here’s the truth, Celine: you’re the best thing to ever happen to Luca.
He’s stupidly in love with you, and nothing will ever top the moment you let yourself feel the same for him.
Alistair is losing control, and he hates it, but there’s no reality where he regrets getting tangled in your orbit. And as for that himbo angel—”
“My name is Malach!”
“Yeah, I fucking know that,” Ciprian shouts. “Where was I? Yes, Malach learned English for you, left his realm behind to protect you, and tried to off your fuck buddies. That’s crazy fucking romantic, and you can’t argue with that.”
“It was judgment! And thank you.”
Ciprian smirks. “Whatever. He’s full of shit about that part. I’ll bet you a thousand bucks he was trying to create space for his big ass in your bed by eliminating the competition.”
Malach laughs out loud from down the hall, and my mouth drops open.
“Anyway, what I’m saying, Celine, is that no one—me included—regrets meeting you or getting caught in your mess. It’s terrible and complicated, sure, but it’s not your fault. Don’t absorb the weight of inherited bullshit.”
He softens, glancing at the window, then back at me before clearing his throat. “If you take anything positive away from our time together, let it be this: you can find solutions without also tricking yourself into thinking you’re the problem.”
Luca comes out of the bathroom. “I agree with most of that,” he says.
I nod weakly, not sure how to respond. My magic detected no lies. It’s going to take time for me to unpack everything Ciprian said, but I have the strangest urge to give him a hug.
“What did Alistair say?” I ask.
“He wouldn’t answer. I called him half a dozen times. Didn’t stop until he sent me a bullshit text saying he was fine.”
“A text?” I frown. “Someone could have his phone.”
Luca nods. “Which is why I demanded proof of life.” He flips his phone around to show us a horribly lit selfie of Alistair. Eyes red from anger or the flash, he’s shooting Luca the bird.
“Frame that one for the wall,” Ciprian deadpans.
“So you could make it hang crooked? No thanks,” I mutter, then narrow my eyes at Luca. “You were in the bathroom for a long time.”
“Maybe I needed to take a shit.”
“Did you?”
“No. I didn’t want to interrupt this conversation. It sounded important.” There it is.
Luca smiles at me, tiny lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes. I melt, then feel disgusted with myself. Luca is good looking. I’ve known that for years, so why am I turning into an angel with fluff for brains when he smiles at me?
I glance away to regroup, unsurprised that he’s working his subtle brand of manipulation behind the scenes. Luca is far more likely to remain calm than Alistair or Ciprian, both of whom love to throw a fit, but he’s damn good with people. I see it at the Fang all the time.
“What happens next? Are you going to bury us under your fancy Colorado compound or put all ten fingers to work?” Luca winks at Ciprian and wiggles his hands. “Wait. I need caffeine for this. Tell me over coffee.”
Ciprian blushes, and they stare at each other with matching grins.
My stomach flutters. Pushing the covers back, I climb out of bed and let my wings out. They’re feathers—for now—but it won’t take much to summon the blades or flames if my emotions spike.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you are an incredibly beautiful woman.”
I snap my head up and find Ciprian’s stormy stare focused on me. Not on my bare legs, or the curve of my ass hanging from the bottom of the oversized T-shirt, but on my face. A face I know is tired, stressed, swollen, and attached to a neck made splotchy by Alistair’s sleep-gnawing.
“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not,” I say. I mean to sound strong and confident. I don’t. I sound edgy instead, like I’ve been pushed to the breaking point.
Ciprian’s eyebrows pull together. A wave of something moves across his face too quick for me to read. “Trust me,” he says.
I go to the bathroom and shut the door without responding.
I don’t have the heart to tell him I can’t.
Because I want to trust Ciprian, the stakes are simply too high.
I can’t be weak or powerless again. I wasn’t strong enough to save Mom from my father. I’ve accepted that, along with the grief and guilt that came along with it, but I will save myself and the messy family I’ve created here on Earth if it’s the last thing I do.
“He won’t take anyone from you again,” I whisper, making the promise to my reflection and hoping I never see the day it makes me a liar.