Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
At last, after traveling around Europe for a month, my mother graces us with her presence. The three of us try to have dinner once a week when she’s here, but even then, we skip more meals than I would like.
Now, with secrets between us, I wish I could avoid this one. There’s no chance unless I want to face the wrath of my mother’s melodramatics.
I’ve spent so many days cooped up on campus that being in the real world is strange. Not that the Cruz estate has ever felt real. I grew up here, but there’s no mistaking the magnetic and haunted aura around the manor.
When I arrive under gloomy clouds and a darkened sky, my parents are sitting at opposite ends of the large dining table. I’m half an hour late, and I know they won’t let it slide.
My mother fixes me with a cool smile. “Mon trésor. It’s nice of you to join us.”
“She’s here now,” my father says. “That’s what matters, isn’t it, darling?”
The space between the two isn’t a lack of love—rather, it’s a shared love of dramatics. There is nothing more over the top than two people sitting on opposite ends of an expansive table.
I roll my eyes as I swiftly approach my mother to place kisses on each cheek.
Her perfume envelopes me. Jasmine, vanilla, and musk hit my nose. It’s been the smell of her for as long as I can remember. It lulled me to sleep when I was young, and the scent lives in my mind even as an adult.
My mother has curated her entire persona.
Her light blue eyes sweep over me as I settle in, and her gaze is piercing, as haunted as the home I grew up in.
My parents love me. Even with the occurrences at Strode, I know this to be true. But my mother’s love has always felt colder. Sometimes, I wonder if this is how she was as a human or if it’s a symptom of the gift of immortality.
I sit in my chair and place a napkin on my lap. None of us needs to eat, but there are three rare steaks on each plate. It’s all for appearances. Everything in my life is.
“Indeed,” my mother says. “It’s lovely to have the family together again. Oh, I mustn’t keep traveling. I miss so much when I’m gone, don’t I?”
I won’t bother beating around the bush.
“You do.”
She’s missed a lot, more than she ever has.
A single meal can’t contain the space for the stories I long to tell her.
There were more deaths, sure, but more than that—she missed Tobey and me being the ones to take the killer down.
It’s not exactly something you share in a postcard, and I don’t know how to say it now.
My mother laughs, cutting into her carne asada. “You’ve been getting on well without me, haven’t you?”
“I suppose.”
“Margaux is just glum about auditions for a play.” My father frowns and dips a fresh tortilla into salsa.
He only ever eats like this around my mother, and most vampires have a fondness for strong flavors—like spice, ripe fruits, or extra salt. Our taste buds aren’t as developed as a human’s, but these things can help.
These days, the part in the play is the last thing on my mind.
I don’t expect either of them to understand. My parents, their secrets, and the order—they are the reason for my bad mood.
“This hasn’t been my best semester,” I say, “but next year will be an improvement. Graduation is right around the corner.”
It feels like what I’m supposed to say.
I ignore the food, draining my glass of blood. As I set the glass down, I felt my mother’s piercing gaze again.
My mother says nothing, but I can see her disapproving look. She’s likely wondering where my manners have gone. It was she who taught me to be polite, after all, but hunger has replaced my etiquette lessons as of late.
I dab the corner of my mouth with a napkin.
“You look pale, darling,” she says. “Have you been drinking enough?”
The sneaky insults are already starting.
I know she means well, and berating is her way of showing love, but it doesn’t feel like the love I need. It feels like twisting, squirming, discomfort, and a shadow cast over me.
The most painful part is how she can see through me. My father has spent weeks with me without realizing I haven’t been drinking enough, but my mother saw it in a second. I’m unsure which I prefer, her constant prying or his inability to pay me any real attention.
A mother’s love can be the strongest thing in the world. Sometimes it’s powerful enough to feel like a hug.
Other times, it’s like being strangled.
And oh, my father is paying attention now. His gaze weighs heavily on me.
“Schoolwork has been distracting me… and the play. As Papá said, I didn’t get a spectacular part, but I am the understudy of the leading lady. I have to be prepared for anything.”
My mother clicks her tongue. “Your health should come first. You know better.”
“I do.” I look down at my plate.
The food is unappetizing when my stomach is twisting with nerves. I force myself to cut off a small chunk of rare meat and pop it into my mouth.
“It’s all right.” She leans over, resting her hand on mine. “I’m home now. You’ll be fed and happy by the time I leave.”
I return her smile with a shaky one of my own. “And how long will you be here this time?”
“As long as you need me. Would you like me to stay, perhaps for the remainder of the year?”
If I ask her to, she will, but I won’t. My mother has always loved traveling more than she loves Castine. My father’s work is the only reason she returns.
I want to be enough for her to return to, but I’ve accepted I will never be.
“I won’t keep you from your travels. Where will you be heading next?”
“Your father and I long to visit Morocco for Christmas.” She beams. “And, oh, won’t you come with us? You can bring your mate!”
My head snaps in my father’s direction. “You told her about Jun?”
My father believing Jun and me are mates is one thing, but my mother will not fall for it. She can see the truth in every matter and is unafraid to call me out.
He holds his hands up defensively. “It came up naturally! I didn’t realize it was a secret.”
“Of course, it came up,” she says. “This is important. I must meet him at once. Your father already has. It’s unfair.”
“I’m not trying to keep him from you.” I aggressively cut a piece of meat despite my lack of appetite, desperate to keep my hands busy. “You can meet him whenever you please.”
My knife scrapes against my plate. The sound is loud enough to make my mother flinch.
“Then you will bring him to the next dinner,” she says.
I smile wryly. “Yes, Maman.”
In another circumstance, my mother showing interest in someone I’m seeing would be wonderful—but I’m not seeing him, and we are certainly not mates. The weight of my mother’s expectations crushes me, and the secrets between my father and me add to the heaviness.
I manage to survive the dinner—just barely. Between my mother’s questioning and my father’s playing stupid, I’m alone on an island between them. My driver brings me back to Strode, and tears stream down my cheeks as I amble through the courtyard.
Tobey. I need Tobey.
Blood blurs my eyes, and I don’t realize I’ve run into someone until my head is smacking against his firm chest.
His brow furrows as I peer up at him.
“What happened?” Jun asks.
It must be an impulse when his fingers graze my cheeks, wiping my tears away as he did at rehearsal. There’s no way he wants to comfort me.
His gaze softens, and I let out a soft sob. Crying in front of him is mortifying.
I ignore his question, posing one of my own instead.
“Why do you keep finding me like this?”
“Before you start making accusations again, I’m not stalking you.”
I hold back a sob, but it comes out as a whimper. “I don’t believe you.”
He holds my face in his hands, his expression firm. “Tell me what happened. Did someone hurt you?”
“Yes.”
“Who?” His eyes flash red.
“Well… they hurt me emotionally.”
“That’s still someone hurting you.” His jaw tightens, and his wings flutter. “Are you going to tell me who did it or what?”
“My mother wants to meet you.” It’s as close as I can get to admitting my own mother is the one who made me cry. A sound between laughter and sorrow escapes my lips.
He lifts a brow. “That’s what you’re crying about? I’ll be a gentleman. Mothers love me.”
“I doubt it.” I snort halfheartedly. “And I don’t want her to meet you.”
“Ouch.”
“I only mean—we’re not even together, Jun-seong, but she thinks we’re mates. I don’t know if that’s a concept for demons, but for a vampire, it’s serious.”
“It is for us, too, but I mean it. I’ll be a gentleman. I’ll be the best mate your mother could want for you.”
“The idea of the two of you being in the same room makes me want to rip my hair out.”
“Don’t. I like your hair.”
I roll my eyes. He’s only being nice because I’m sad. More of his pity. I don’t want it.
“It’s not about you,” I say. “My mother is… well meaning, but sometimes…”
I can’t say what I want to put into words, but it appears Jun can read between the lines.
“I understand family problems. I got ‘em too.”
I manage a weak smile. “I guess, out of everyone I know, our familial issues are the closest.”
He nods. The movement is minuscule, almost imperceptible. What comes next takes me by surprise—his warmth. The blaze of Hell surrounds me before he does.
His arms wrap around me, pulling me against his chest, using his strength to hold me tight. Jun is cinnamon and bourbon, and, for a moment, I forget who we are as I nuzzle my face against his chest.
This will end soon, but for now, he is everything I see, feel, and smell.
“It’ll all be okay.” His voice is usually rough, and I suppose it still is—but it’s soft now, a low purr in my ear. “You’re not alone. I got you.”
Rather than pulling away, I lift my chin enough to look up at him. His gaze is dark, inviting, heavy-lidded. His lips part as our eyes meet.
He’s close. It wouldn’t be hard to find his lips. And I’m searching, my hand moving to the back of his neck. His mouth is a breath away. He’s searching for me, too, leaning into my gentle touch.
Alarm bells go off, loud and glaring.