Chapter 18 #2
“Impressive new digs, roomie,” he called out with a whistle as he approached and wrapped his arms around me. “Does this mean you’re moving out?”
“Not a chance,” I replied, and he chuckled as he stepped away. “Please tell me you aren’t performing.”
“You wound me, Adrian.” Harrison slapped a hand against his chest as if injured. “Unfortunately Momma Bexley didn’t see fit to hire us this evening. We’re here as friends. And to make sure you got Sophie’s message. First Ringers can’t be trusted and all that.”
“Well, friends,” I started, my gaze sliding to the bulk of the party taking place in the living room, “think you could use all that oozing charm to blur the lines between classes around here?”
His gaze shot to the awkward pockets of conversation.
“I’ve always wanted to hit up a First Ring chick,” Felix said, moving forward. He nodded toward Bria. “That one available?”
I barked a laugh. “You’re welcome to try.”
Felix gave me a glittering smirk as if to say challenge accepted and moved toward the quiet acolyte.
“Adrian.” Dante stood in the foyer, dressed head to toe in a perfectly tailored black suit. I blinked, hardly recognizing him, then broke out into a grin as I approached.
“Well, well, well, who are you trying to impress?” I quirked a brow. “Some Third Ring girl caught your eye?”
“Maybe,” he answered in a growl that had my heart beating faster. I ignored it.
“What did Cosmo have for you?”
“Olympia failed the fourth Trial.”
My lips parted and my face fell. I reached out and took Dante’s hand, leading him through the party toward the back porch where we could be alone.
“How is she?” I asked once we were seated on the deck.
His brows creased. “You hate her.”
“In all fairness, she hated me first,” I replied and, in spite of himself, he smirked.
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen or heard from her since. I had to learn about it from my grandfather, just tonight, but she failed over a week ago. Has Milo said anything?”
“No. But he knows that Olympia and I aren’t exactly the best of friends. He might think I don’t care or, because of you, he might assume I already know,” I told him, and he nodded, staring at his hands. “Dante, if you need to go to her…”
“I’m where I need to be,” he replied.
His hand found mine and our fingers entwined as we gazed up at the stars above.
We sat in silence for a moment, then he reached inside his jacket with his other hand and removed a package wrapped in glittering green.
A golden bow was tied beautifully across it.
It sparkled in the starlight as he handed it to me.
“For you,” he told me.
“You didn’t have to—“
“Open it.”
Biting my lip, I let go of his hand and tore into the package. Inside was a small, leather-bound book. I pressed my hand against the cover, tracing the rivets of the letters engraved there.
“Prima’s Journal,” I breathed. “How did you—“
“I’ve had half a dozen acolytes working on it for weeks now,” he told me. “Now you can find even more boring passages to assault my subconscious with next time we spar.”
He’d meant it as a joke but I could see the effort this had taken.
He’d had to lie to several of the most pious members of society, for one thing.
He’d probably told them I needed it for the Trials or that Cosmo had ordered this edition made for me.
But really, he’d simply thought I would like it.
He’d noticed the time I spent studying legends and histories with Milo, the interest I’d shown in the passages from Prima’s journal in particular.
Maybe he’d even been listening one of the times I’d complained about having to visit Cosmo to actually read the thing. So he’d done this. For me.
I inhaled sharply, unexpected tears pricking my eyes as I turned away from him.
“Shit. I knew it wasn’t a good idea,” he cursed. “Is it still too complicated? Bria said you’ve been doing better and, with how much time you were spending with Milo, I thought—“
I whirled back around and threw my arms around him.
He froze, every muscle in his body going rigid in surprise.
Then he relaxed into it and embraced me back.
I reveled in the feeling of being held in his strong arms for a moment too long and, when I pulled back, the look in his eyes made me breathless.
“Adrian,” he whispered my name and my lips parted.
He lifted a hand and pushed a stray hazel lock away from my face, tucking it behind my ear.
“We never talked about it,” I breathed.
His jaw tensed. I didn’t have to explain what I meant. He knew.
“Do you want to?” His hand lingered on my neck.
“I-we probably should. Right?”
“We could talk,” he drawled, sliding his hand around to the back of my neck and cupping me there. “Or…”
Or…
He leaned forward. I moved to meet him. Then our lips were crashing together.
I slid closer to him so that our knees were touching and angled my head so that my hair cascaded over my shoulder.
His mouth worked expertly against mine, applying pressure to the top, sucking on the bottom.
I opened for him and felt his tongue slither inside.
I sighed as I wrapped my arms around his neck and he lifted me off the deck.
He settled me onto his lap where I straddled him, leaning in to press my lips more fervently against his.
After a few minutes of feverish kissing, I pulled away to take a breath.
My chest heaved against his own as I looked down at green eyes glazed over with desire.
“So,” he started. The slow creep of his perfectly deep voice slithered over my body as I leaned shamelessly closer. “You liked the book.”
I barked out a laugh, throwing my head back as he held my waist.
“I loved the book,” I told him. “Thank you.”
I met his gaze again, still straddling him.
“As much as I’d love to give you your second birthday gift right here on this porch, your brothers are inside,” he whispered as he nuzzled my neck.
I bit my lip, trying to stifle the sigh working its way to my lips.
“They probably couldn’t actually kick your ass,” I told him. “But they’d definitely try.”
He chuckled against my neck and I shivered against him. He groaned.
“Then you’d better hop off,” he informed me, “or I won’t be held accountable for my actions.”
Grinning, I pushed away from him, getting back to my feet and gathering the book from where it had dropped to the porch beside us.
“If you need to blow off some steam, Sophie and Graham are throwing me a far less appropriate party after this one down at the eighth.” I informed him as we both stood and forced some distance between us.
The night air was cooler than I thought so far away from Dante’s heated skin.
“Sometimes terrible alcohol can help you get through your stuff. Or at least, it can help you forget about it for a night.”
He nodded and took a step toward me.
He reached out and ran a hand along my jaw, then leaned in for another kiss. Quick, this time, and finished far too early for my taste. He was smiling when he pulled away.
“Just so you know, I didn’t ask you about what you were going through,” he started, keeping his gaze on mine, “because I thought you wouldn’t want to tell me. But if you ever do, just know that you can.”
Where had that come from? I nodded and watched as he wrenched the door open and stepped back inside, returning to the party he’d so far only briefly attended.
I smiled a little, unable to keep from grinning after what had happened between us.
It was all so crazy. He was a First Ringer.
I was just a girl from the Third Ring with a bad mouth and a worse attitude.
Though, I supposed I was a girl from the Second Ring now.
I couldn’t help but chuckle as I stared out at the garden behind my family’s new home.
“What’s so funny, birthday girl?” My mother stepped out beside me on the deck, in the same spot Dante had occupied. I jumped, surprised to find her here so suddenly, but then relaxed.
Ignoring the wandering thoughts regarding how much she’d seen, I answered her. “Life.”
She smiled. “Ah, yes. Life does tend to be very funny. When it’s not beating the shit out of you.”
I snorted, then raised my brows, eyes wide.
“Mom!” I cried, and she collapsed into a fit of giggles. I’d never heard such language from the woman who’d raised me.
“You’re twenty-two now,” she said with a shrug once her amusement died down. “You’re not a child anymore. None of you are. Maurice is a man grown, and Warren is talking about getting married…”
I looked back out at the garden, my smile fading slightly.
“He’s doing the right thing, you know,” she continued, her voice softer than before. “I know it’ll be hard, having her around all the time, but your brother has a good heart. She’ll be safe with him. And, in this place, that’s all any of us can really ask for.”
“Did you love dad?” The words slipped out before I could even think them.
As a general rule, we never talked about our father.
No one had ever explicitly told me not to, but Maurice had at some point in our childhood indicated to Warren that he shouldn’t, and Warren passed that on to me.
So we’d gone our whole lives, Warren and I, hardly knowing anything about him.
“I did,” my mother murmured, a wistful smile on her face as her gaze drifted somewhere far away. “Geist help me, I did.”
“How did he die?”
Her smile dimmed slightly, and she turned her bright eyes on me.
“I should have told you about him. I should have told you all stories of who he was, helped you remember your father, helped you remember the man I loved. But every time I think of him, I think of how he looked in the end. And that isn’t fair.
Not to me, not to you, and certainly not to him. ”
I remained silent, waiting.
“When you were only a baby,” my mother stared back out at the gardens, “Warren was four and Maurice was seven. There was a fire on the south side of the Third Ring. You know how these things can spread through the houses that are so close together. They called for able-bodied men to help put out the blaze, and your father went. The house was collapsing, and people were still inside. We knew them. He’d worked a job with one of them, and I knew the woman from the shop.
Your father thought he could save them. He was wrong. ”
The culmination of her story hung in the air between us for a moment as I digested that knowledge and the pain she’d just relived.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
She stepped closer and wrapped an arm around me.
“I promised him before he left that night, before there was any indication that it would be anything but a normal night, after we’d put you to bed and stood over your crib, that I would raise you to be strong, brave, and humble.
That I would make sure you knew the difference between right and wrong.
That you'd never forget where you came from or who loved you. I hope I’ve kept that promise, even if I’ve never really told you about him. ”
I reached down and held the hand on my hip. I gave it a squeeze, and she smiled.
“Happy birthday, Adrian,” she whispered.
I stood with her like that for some time before we both moved with some muttered assumptions that we should return to the party, seeing as we were the host and guest of honor.
I spent the next few hours talking to people who loved me, being congratulated by people who were proud of me, and laughing with friends, new and old.
And at the end of the night, I thanked my mother for organizing a time where I could simply be happy and celebrate.
Then I stepped out into the night, Dante and Milo by my side, and made my way down to the Deck.