Chapter 17 #3
“Why does this matter to you so much?” he demands. “You’ve never met a hybrid. You have no connection to them.”
“I don’t know.” My voice comes out smaller than usual. “It just feels wrong.”
He stares at me for a long moment, an unreadable look in his eyes. Then, he releases me and steps back, finally creating some distance between us.
But the loss of his touch feels like rejection.
“You have a soft heart,” he says, and it doesn’t sound like a compliment. “The world isn’t kind to soft hearts, Violet.”
I cross my arms in front of my chest. “Maybe not. But I’d rather have a soft heart than no heart at all.”
He flinches.
The silence stretches between us, heavy and uncomfortable. I want to take back what I said, but it’s true. And maybe he needed to hear it.
“I’m not heartless,” he says quietly, dangerously. “I’m practical. There are very few hybrids left now. Some packs have chosen to protect them.” He pauses. “I think they’re fools. But it’s their choice to make.”
“And your choice is to kill them on sight.”
“Yes.” No hesitation. No regret.
My chest aches. This is the man I’m falling for? Someone who can look me in the eye and tell me he’d execute a child without flinching?
“We don’t have to agree on this,” I say finally, though the words taste bitter.
“No.” He watches me carefully. “We don’t.”
But the distance between us feels wider now. Like something has changed that we can’t change back.
He steps forward and takes my face in his hands, tilting it up so he can look me in the eyes. “Let’s go to dinner.”
I hesitate. The logical part of me says to pull away, to put space between us until I can sort through what I’m feeling. The fact that our conversation ended with the issue unresolved bothers me.
But he is looking at me like I matter. Like my opinion matters, even if he disagrees with it. And that’s more than most people in my life have ever done for me.
Maybe I’m making excuses. Maybe I’m justifying my feelings for him when I shouldn’t. But I’m tired of fighting myself every time I want something.
“Okay,” I say softly.
He strokes my cheeks with his thumbs, studying my face as if he’s memorizing it. “We have this whole weekend to ourselves. There isn’t anybody here who knows you. So, you have nothing to worry about. No reason to push me away.”
He’s right. Nobody here knows me. Nobody here will judge me for being with him.
But I’ll know. And I’ll have to live with choosing someone who believes in things I find abhorrent.
The thought should make me pull away. Instead, I find myself leaning into his touch.
What does that make me?
“That’s not what I—”
“Just dinner,” he murmurs, kissing the tip of my nose. His lips brush over my cheek. “We won’t do anything else. Just have a nice meal together.” His mouth moves to my jaw. “Enjoy each other’s company.”
I should say no. Should tell him I need time to think.
“Fine,” I whisper instead.
He grins, and it transforms his face. Makes him look younger, lighter. “That’s my girl. Go get dressed.”
It takes me five minutes to change, and we head out.
The restaurant he takes me to isn’t fancy, but it is intimate, strung with soft, white lights that cast everything in a warm glow. We sit at a small table overlooking the water, the Atlantic Ocean spreading dark and vast before us.
The sound of waves fills the silence at our table.
A waiter appears, and Darius orders for both of us without asking what I want. Steak, medium rare, with roasted vegetables.
I raise an eyebrow at him when the waiter leaves.
“Trust me,” he says simply.
When the food arrives, the steak appears perfectly cooked, the meat tender and seasoned just right. I reach for my knife, but Darius’s hand covers mine.
“Let me.”
He takes my plate and cuts the steak into bite-sized pieces with precise, efficient movements. Then, he slides it back to me.
A strange warmth unfurls in my chest. The gesture is intimate. Caring. The kind of thing you do for someone you—
I push the thought away and pick up my fork.
“Why did you choose this place?” I ask.
He looks out at the ocean. “Because it’s by the water.” Back to me. “I wanted you to have an unforgettable experience.”
My breath catches. The way he says it, the intensity in his gaze, makes it clear he’s not just talking about the restaurant.
“It’s beautiful,” I say quietly.
“You’re beautiful.”
My pulse quickens. I look down at my plate, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.
We eat in silence for a while. The tension from earlier has transformed into something else. Something softer but no less charged.
After dinner, we walk along the beach. I slip off my shoes, and he does the same. The sand is cool beneath my feet, having lost the warmth of the day. Water laps at the shore, close enough that the occasional wave washes over my toes.
Darius’s hand finds mine.
I should pull away. Should maintain the distance I promised myself I’d keep. But his fingers lace through mine like they belong there, and I can’t make myself let go.
“It’s lovely here,” I say quietly.
“It is.”
But when I glance at him, he’s not looking at the ocean. He’s looking at me.
My skin prickles with awareness. “Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Looking at me like that.”
He traces circles on the back of my hand with his thumb. “Like what?”
“Like you’re thinking things you shouldn’t be thinking.”
A slow, dangerous smile. “I’m always thinking things I shouldn’t be thinking when it comes to you.”
I turn away, focusing on the horizon where the ocean meets the sky. The city lights reflect on the water, shimmering and beautiful.
We walk in silence, and despite everything, I find myself relaxing with Darius. The conversation about hybrids still weighs on me, a stone in my chest I can’t quite dislodge. But here, with the beach and the stars and his hand warm in mine, it feels like something I can carry.
I don’t know what it says about me, that I can be horrified by someone’s beliefs and still crave their touch. That I can see darkness in them and still want to pull them closer.
Maybe it makes me weak. Or maybe it’s just proof that desire doesn’t care about logic.
He slides his arm around my waist, pulling me closer. We walk like that, pressed together, our feet leaving prints in the wet sand that the waves wash away.
I glance at my watch. The numbers glow: 10:47 p.m.
My stomach drops.
My medicine. I need to take it at eleven. I always take it at eleven.
I stop, pulling my purse around to the front. I check the side pocket, but it’s not there. After fumbling with the zipper, I search through the rest. Wallet, phone, lip balm, tissues.
No medicine bottle.
My heart starts to race. I look again, digging deeper. Maybe it fell to the bottom. Maybe it’s caught in the lining.
Nothing.
“We should go back to the hotel,” I say quickly. “I’m tired.”
Darius disagrees vehemently. “But the night is still young!” Then, softer, “Is everything alright?”
“I’m tired,” I repeat, trying to keep my voice steady.
He studies my face. “Okay.”
The walk back to the hotel feels endless. I keep my expression calm, but on the inside, I’m spiraling. My mother has always been insistent that I can never miss a dose. If I do, the side effects will be worse than anything I’ve experienced.
We reach our hotel room, and I’m through the door as soon as Darius swipes the key card. I drop my purse on the floor and go straight to my suitcase.
I unzip it and pull out clothes, toiletries, everything. My hands shake as I search through every pocket, every compartment.
It’s not here. Did I pack it? I must have. I always take it with me wherever I go! How could I be so stupid?
“Violet?” Behind me, Darius sounds concerned. “What are you looking for?”
“My medicine.” I force myself to slow down, to breathe. “I–I thought I packed it. I must have left it in the bathroom back home. Damn it!”
Hands still buried in clothes, I close my eyes. Think, Violet. I can go three days without it, right? The doctor said missing a dose or two wouldn’t kill me. It’s not ideal, but it’s not fatal.
But three days? Six doses?
My heart sinks.
This is not good.