Chapter 8 Kane #4
She nods her head towards the sound. “Is that them?”
“Most likely,” I mutter, debating whether to crush the infernal thing.
She raises a brow, begins to move, starts to pull her hands from mine.
No.
I study the motion, the way her fingertips glide over my knuckles… just before I lose all contact.
I’m cold once more, the contrast so sudden that my darkness tightens around me.
Touch her.
She doesn’t realise. Of course she doesn’t. That one small touch and I’m pleading for more. Desperate to reach out and pull her to me. To have her fingers trail over any piece of me she’s willing to touch…
Even my face if she want—
“Hey, J! Everything okay? I’ve had like six messages from…” Kacey’s words trail off.
Jasmine shoots her a glare with a tight shake of her head, her body rigid with frustration.
“Oh, right, okay—well… I’ll—I’ll just…” Whilst Kacey tries to mumble out words, I reach into my pocket.
Ezekial’s name is still flashing, but I swipe it away. I don’t check the unread messages, I open the group chat and scroll through the onslaught of words.
Kacey’s still trying to finish her sentence, and I decide to end her suffering.
“I haven’t replied to any of their messages. They’re concerned. That’s why they contacted you, Kacey.”
“Concerned about what?” Jasmine’s voice holds an edge of annoyance, but I don’t think it’s directed at me.
I hear Kacey’s retreating footsteps as she wisely exits.
“That I’ve made everything worse,” I say, swiping to the bottom of the chat. I don’t even read the last message before typing:
Me: Everything is fine.
Sai: Why the FUCK couldn’t you have said that 30 messages ago?
Julien: Are you sure?
Ezekial: We felt something. All of us. Did something happen?
I glance up. Jasmine’s watching me, one brow arched. She brushes the back of her hand beneath her left eye, quietly wiping away the remnants of tears.
Me: I made her cry.
Sai: Are you fucking serious? Tell me you’re joking…
Julien: Oh dear.
Ezekial: Does that mean she’s at least spoken to you?
Me: Yes. She still is.
“They say they felt something. It made them worry,” I say, watching more replies pour in.
“What did you tell them?” she asks, her voice still so soft.
Has she ever spoken to me with such gentleness before? Does she not understand what I am? What I did? Does she not see this evil being sitting before her?
I don’t deserve her kindness, her empathy. Her.
I don’t deserve to catch a glimpse of her. To hear even a sliver of this gentle tone.
And yet…
I look up. “I told them the truth. I made you cry.” She opens her mouth immediately, but no words escape. “I think they’re angry with me.”
“They—don’t—” She scrunches her nose, struggling to find the words.
I want to keep that expression too. I’m already committing it to memory, storing it somewhere sacred.
But then she moves.
My chest aches. Is she about to leave? To walk away again?
The ache becomes a sudden pounding when she rounds the table—comes to me—pulls out the chair beside mine, sits, and leans in.
Now she’s right here. Directly next to me, staring down at my phone with me.
I really hope my unit isn’t saying anything they wouldn’t want her to see, because I am now a statue. An immovable rock.
I will never move again if it means she’ll stay beside me like this. Her warmth, her power, her sounds, her smell. I close my eyes just to revel in it a little longer, and the continuous ache living inside me thaws.
The next sound she makes scalds me. A soft, brief noise that makes everything burn.
She laughed.
I use my other hand to grip the edge of my seat, digging my fingers into the plastic, anything to stop myself from leaning closer to her heat.
Then she peers up at me, eyes still alight with her laughter.
Remember.
Remember that expression.
Burn it into my retinas.
Scar me.
“Sorry,” she half-laughs, her gaze turning wary as she glances from my face to the phone. “I should’ve asked before looking, I’ll—”
She’s about to move. To move away from me. Leave me—
“Stay,” I blurt, so quickly she’s barely shifted.
I need to say something else.
Do not mention how warm she feels. Don’t say you want her to touch you. Say something normal… anything that’ll make her stay.
“Say something to them.”
Why that? I could have said anything, and I gave her a command?
But she doesn’t recoil, doesn’t scowl, if anything… she smiles.
She’s smiling. At me.
“Like what, huh?” she teases, head tilted slightly, a few curls brushing her cheeks.
I am becoming Sai. Because when she’s looking at me like that, all I can think to say is fuck.
Thankfully, I don’t.
“Anything,” I manage, eventually. “You know they’ll answer.”
Then it takes everything in me not to move closer.
She watches me, the evidence of her smile still softly in place, then takes the phone and types. She doesn’t shield the screen and her height means I can easily see over her shoulder. I frown as I read her words.
Me: She wants to know about Kacey. How we met.
“Kacey told me last night,” she murmurs, carefully watching the screen for their replies. “It’s one of the reasons I even bothered speaking to you today.”
I need to thank Kacey.
I need to build her a larger atrium.
I need to speak with Ezekial immediately—
Ezekial: Ask Kacey first. Don’t say no, just that you need to ask.
“Damn, that’s a good response,” she says, brushing her lower lip with her thumb.
Another action I drag into my mind.
She peers up at me. “Why did you help her?”
I’m still too busy replaying the way her thumb moved, it takes me a moment to put words together, to realise she’s talking about Kacey.
“In some ways, mine and Kacey’s story are similar,” I say slowly. “I saw some of myself in her, as did Ezekial, and so did the others.”
She exhales. “That was a good answer too. Shit.” Her gaze drops as another message appears.
Sai: Plz make us sound extremely heroic.
She scoffs briefly under her breath. I’m honestly relieved she isn’t irritated by Sai like most beings. She taps the edge of the phone for a moment, then types again.
Me: OK. I know what happened. But what is Kacey to you all?
“Shit!” She taps the message repeatedly, but I’m not quite sure what she’s trying to do. Then she peers up at me, panicked. “How do I delete that? I didn’t say it right! It doesn’t sound like you’re asking, it sounds like me—”
But it’s too late.
They’ve read it.
And Sai, of course, is the first to respond.
Sai: Red?
“Shit!” she yelps, eyes fixed on Sai’s message. But I hear the slight rasp of her voice, like her breath caught at just the sight of Sai’s annoying nickname.
She starts to pass the phone back, but her eyes flick to the screen again, darting over another message. No. Multiple messages.
She slowly lowers the phone, now holding it with both hands, gaze sweeping over the rows of text from each man.
Sai: Have you stolen his phone? That’s some impressive shit, Red. And to answer your question, what is she to us? You think... hell no. Kace? Seriously? She’s like an annoying little sister who’s half terrified of us. Not my type, Red. Not even close.
Julien: Kacey reminds me of someone from my past life.
I feel an urge to protect her, the way a parent might protect their child.
I trust Kane has explained himself, but allow me to extend my apologies all the same.
I also apologise on Sai’s behalf for his…
over-excitement. And I apologise for not telling you the full truth the moment I knew what you were to us.
Sai: Shit. I’m so sorry, Red. Really. I wanted to tell you so badly. I didn’t mean to make it worse.
Ezekial: Jasmine, thank you for speaking with Kane today.
I’m also glad that Kacey was able to open up to you.
She’s never told anyone else about her life before this.
That shows she thinks a lot of you. While I have the chance, I’m sorry we didn’t tell you the truth straight away. I regret that decision. We all do.
“Do you regret it?” she finally says, after re-reading the messages a few more times. Her bright gaze flickers up to me, the reds a soft hue, like the embers scattered amongst burning coal. “Not telling me we were… That you’re my…” Her gaze drifts away.
She can’t even say it, and that creates a new, sharp, tearing sensation of its own.
I swallow. “We did what we thought was right. We all realised, accepted it, at different times. We were worried you’d… that you wouldn’t react well.”
Her eyes stay on the screen, fingers still poised over the keyboard, unmoving.
“So you made the choice for me.” Her words are quiet, but they still cut. “You decided I didn’t get to know.”
“I made the choice,” I say. Her gaze swings up to me, brows deeply furrowed. They said tell the truth. And I will. “I was in denial. I was wrong. I’m sorry, Jasmine.”
Her expression softens. Even now, even after everything—I hurt her, lied to her—and she still chooses gentleness.
Jasmine parts her lips, about to say something—
“Amon said it’s time for you guys to go?” Kacey’s voice cuts clean through, her tone forced casualness. A question when it should be a statement.
She’s already halfway into the room, Amon hovering behind her in the doorway. I’ve never wanted to harm Kacey before, but right now, I’m feeling incredibly tested.
I glance at my phone, still in Jasmine’s hand, the time showing we’ve been here five hours. It felt like seconds.
Amon is due to meet with Julien, which means I’ll have no reason to stay here, and now I want to unleash my unwarranted fury onto the dragon. I glance at him, and his eyes widen slightly.
There’s a soft knock as Jasmine places my phone back onto the table, but I can’t look at it. I can only look at her. She gives me a small, sad smile, one I know I’ll see every time I close my eyes.
I don’t want to leave. I want to make up an excuse, a reason. I need to think of something.
But I’m telling the truth. No more lies or omission.
I press my tongue against the inside of my cheek, biting back frustration at the timing, at being forced to leave when I’ve only just started to stay.
“See you tomorrow?” she asks. Like she doesn’t realise what those words do to me. Like it’s not the most important question I’ve ever been asked.
I nod, once, too fast. “Yes.”
That’s all she gets. All I can manage.
Then she smiles. Small, brief, but it knocks me.
Even in this short time together, I can already see the changes in her. Her movements are more fluid, there’s warmth in her skin, light in her eyes.
And she spoke to me. She was near me. Touched me.
Smiled. Laughed. Cried.
It wrecks me.
I stand only because I have to, because not moving would mean begging to stay.
And the only thing that keeps me walking away from that atrium, from her, is the knowledge that I get to do it all again tomorrow.
Not Sai. Not Julien. Not Ezekial.
Me.