Chapter 26 Maeve
MAEVE
Iwake up warm.
Too warm. Uncomfortably so. My skin feels sticky—clammy?—and my stomach is already churning.
That’s the first problem.
The other is that I don’t know where I am—only that I’m horizontal, breathing, and not in immediate danger.
Yet.
The room doesn’t smell bad. In fact, it sort of smells safe—which is exactly how a kidnapper would want me to feel.
Soft lavender. White leather. A hint of grapefruit.
My chromius hums in appreciation.
The ceiling above me is wrong. Not mine. Not Draven’s.
My eyes dart around the room, straining in the darkness, automatically searching for threats.
Not because I’m dramatic—which I am—but because my body learned a long time ago that safety is something you check.
Over and over again. Until your throat stops tightening and your heart stops acting like it’s trying to escape.
Pink blackout curtains. A soft light bleeding from under the doorway. A familiar weight to the blanket.
On the bedside table sits a glass—my glass from Draven’s flat—engraved with an M.
My chest tightens. This isn’t coincidence.
Someone rebuilt Draven’s room for me. Not for comfort, no, that would be too easy. So what? To try and trick me?
I push myself upright, muscles tense, ready to bolt if I need to. Strangely, my body doesn’t feel numb or lethargic.
So, I’ve not been drugged. I’m not helpless—
“Good morning, little light,” Julian’s raspy voice murmurs.
Fuck.
This should unsettle me. I knew he was a creepy bastard, and clearly, he’s lain awake, waiting for this exact moment.
Instead, something tight in my chest loosens—like my body has conspired with my chromius to choose relief over dignity.
They’re practically screaming ‘finally, someone stayed’ in my damn ear.
I hate myself for it.
My fucking chromius is a traitorous bitch.
“You’re awake.”
He’s sitting in an armchair, just off to the side from the wardrobe. This room mirrors mine in Draven’s flat—same layout, same windows and doors.
The memories from the night before rush back in, sharp and humiliating. I could slap myself for being so fucking stupid.
I’m in Hadrian’s flat, the one he shares with Lucifer and now Julian. I was welcomed in and chose to stay here.
A shiver wracks my body, and I close my eyes for a moment, trying to calm myself down. My heart hammers against my ribs, hard enough that I feel it in my throat, and the blanket suddenly weighs too much across my legs.
There’s nothing worse than waking on the edge of an anxiety attack—especially when it’s your own brain doing the damage.
So fucking dramatic, Maeve.
“You’re a creep,” I counter.
The room emerges in stages as my eyes adjust to the darkness. Furniture appears as blocky silhouettes, and then I can make out Julian’s seated figure. He’s fuzzy, though—most of his features remaining indistinct.
“A creep? How am I being creepy?” He looks so affronted, like he’s the wronged party.
Fucking light pegasus.
“Do you make such a frequent habit of watching women sleep that it’s no longer seen as creepy?” I ask coldly.
He smiles faintly. Not offended, weirdly. Julian could get offended that it was raining, never mind when I actually insult him.
“Only when they’ve had a rough night and insist on pretending they’re indestructible.”
I scowl. “I am indestructible, thank you very much. And I didn’t ask for your company.”
I didn’t ask for any of their company. I adamantly refused a bodyguard.
Because wanting someone to stay is the first step to needing them—to becoming reliant on them—and needing people has always been too expensive for me.
Unfortunately for the pegasus twins, they don’t give me safe vibes.
Not with their constant lies about being my mates, and their pretentious, pompous faces.
Okay, fine, I can’t hold their beauty against them.
But I do hold their annoying “how can we help” questions against them.
“No,” he agrees easily. “You didn’t ask for anything. That’s kind of your thing where I’m concerned.”
“Don’t kid yourself, we both know I’ve asked for plenty.”
Like the truth. His death. Him being far fucking away from me.
He rolls his eyes, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Come on, we both know you don’t actually want me to leave you alone.”
I scoff, shaking my head, as I tug the blankets over me more comfortably. I level a glare his way.
“Clearly, you’ve drunk a bucket of delusion tea this morning because I absolutely do mean it.”
He grimaces, looking down at his hands briefly, before meeting my gaze once more. He can probably see better in the dark than I can, so I compose my own face, not wanting to give anything away.
“Delusional or hopeful? There’s a fine line, little light.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
I grit my teeth at the pet name. “There’s also a fine line between concern and stalking, Julian. And you’re dancing on it like a fucking ballerina.”
“For what it’s worth,” he murmurs gently, “I stayed here by the door all night. I moved the armchair and everything so that if you did wake up upset, you wouldn’t feel trapped by me. I did what I could.”
My jaw tightens despite myself because that’s the kind of care he knows I struggle to punish.
Bastard. He’s trying to corner me with decency.
Instead, all it does is remind me why I might get upset, and the memories of last night—and other nights—flood my brain. The words they slung my way. The memories they dragged up. The darkness that crowded my brain.
And even worse than that… the permission I gave to Draven to enact vengeance. I knew he couldn’t let it go. He showed considerable restraint when I was there, but I have no doubt he had none when he found them again.
Stay in the moment, Maeve.
Argue with Julian. Keep it light-hearted.
Don’t let yourself go back there. Don’t let them in.
Don’t let yourself break.
“Or were you scared I’d hurt you if you got closer?”
I can practically see the cogs turning in Julian’s head as he tries to formulate a response. He’s not quick enough, and I take a perverse pleasure in it.
It serves him right for being so fucking presumptuous.
“I’m not scared of you, Maeve. I know you’d never harm me,” he says finally, his voice steady and calm. “I’m scared for you, though. I was worried—”
“Oh, fucking hell. Save me the dramatics, Julian,” I cut in, unable to let him keep painting me as some victim. “I’m not a damsel in distress you need to protect.”
“Well, actually, this time, it was Hades who asked me to stay and keep an eye on you,” he says, and I frown. “He went out with Luc and Draven at some point, so it was just the two of us here, and I wanted to stay close.”
I narrow my eyes at him, trying to decide if he’s lying. I know Hades can be protective, but asking Julian to babysit me? That’s a step too far, even for him.
He’s not usually this overbearing. That’s what bothers me.
“And you just jumped at the chance to play the white knight, then, didn’t you?” I say, my voice dripping with anger.
He sighs. “I don’t want to argue with you, Maeve. I really don’t.”
“Then what do you want?” I raise a brow. “You’ve been lying in wait for what?”
“We’ve barely had two minutes alone since… well, since before you left the compound. I wanted to talk. To plead my case. To explain myself.”
“To explain what?”
He sighs again, a heavier sound this time. “I don’t want to do this whilst you’re feeling so… vulnerable,” he finishes, running a hand through his hair. “But we can’t keep going on like this.”
My chromius hisses, fear pulsing through our bond. She’s furious that he’s pushing us away, clawing at my insides with a desperation that makes me wince.
Part of me wants to reach for him, too, but I can’t ever let myself be that pathetic.
I hate that part of myself the most.
Julian’s a liar. A con artist. A puppet for his uncle’s hands.
“I’m not vulnerable,” I snap, though my voice lacks conviction, even to my own ears. “And I’m not avoiding anything. I’ve been pretty fucking clear about where I stand with you. Sorry you can’t understand, but maybe your parents should’ve paid for a better private school.”
Julian laughs, and I hate the way it soothes my chromius. Easy bitch.
“If I could go back in time, I’d do things differently. I’d never have asserted myself the way I did. Never been so… spoiled about it. Entitled, even.”
“About what?”
Something sinks deep in my stomach, and I hate how pathetic my voice sounds.
How fucking hopeful.
“The mate bond, Maeve.”
I grumble under my breath, a hot flush running over me. Not again with this bullshit. I don’t need to hear his delusions.
But the flutters and goosebumps betray me.
My body is a traitor. Just like my chromius is.
It doesn’t care about logic. It doesn’t even care about Julian’s lies.
No, it only cares that he’s my supposed mate—that he feels like safety—and my body has always been a cheap, desperate negotiator when it comes to our survival.
“Stop, I don’t want to hear this. Not now, not ever,” I say, holding up my hand. I reach over to the lamp on the side, pulling the string.
The light illuminates his face, and my eyes are immediately drawn to the bags underneath his eyes. He’s not slept very well. Clearly, he’s spent most of the night awake, watching over me.
Fucking creep.
“But that’s just it, Maeve, I need to get this off my chest. You think it was some ploy to do with Adrian, that I let him sway me, but that’s the furthest thing from the truth.”
“Then who? Your parents? Your grandparents? Hell, we’ve seen the way Marianne behaves. Maybe she’s the mastermind behind all of this.”
“None of the above,” he snarls. Finally, some actual emotion. “It’s the truth, Maeve. The truth I’ve been trying to get you to believe since the moment we met.”
“Oh, please.” I roll my eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t get stuck to the back of my skull.
It would save me from looking at him, too.
“I’m not stupid Julian.”