Chapter 33 #2
I keep holding his hand, staring down at our joined fingers while something uncomfortable settles deep inside my chest.
Light. All that time, and nobody knew. He lived with that fear for years.
The last of the evening light spills across the bed as silence stretches between us. Before I can talk myself out of it, I reach into my pocket.
I’ve been carrying the damn thing around all evening, waiting for the right moment, long enough to know exactly how ridiculous that is. Still, a part of me can’t help hoping he’ll love it as much as I do.
Rowan’s gaze shifts to me. “What?”
Instead of answering, I place the object in his palm, watching confusion flicker over him before his fingers slowly curl around it.
At first, he doesn’t recognize it. Then his eyes widen. “Ciaran.”
The band catches the last of the evening light, silver and black and polished enough to pass for jewelry. Not the battered medical band Vera ripped from his wrist. This one is different. Better.
For a second, he just stares at it, brushing his thumb across the polished metal as though he isn’t quite sure it’s real. “You found it?”
I look away, suddenly finding the carved molding on the wall fascinating. “Yeah.”
“When?”
A humorless laugh slips out. “When do you think?”
The answer hits him.
The basement.
Rowan’s gaze drops back to the band resting in his palm, tracing the edge with careful fingers while silence settles between us. “You kept it?”
I shrug, feeling strangely self-conscious about the whole thing. Ridiculous. Getting shot at never made me this uncomfortable. “I had it repaired.”
“Why?”
Because after dragging you out of that basement, I couldn’t stop thinking about everything they’d taken from you.
Instead, I settle for, “It seemed important.”
The look he gives me suggests he doesn’t believe that for a second. Good. He shouldn’t.
His thumb continues tracing the edge of the band before stopping on the second clasp hidden beneath the metalwork. I watch realization dawn on him, his eyes narrowing. “Ciaran.”
Ah, hell.
“This is paired.” His mouth falls open. “You made us matching medical bands?”
“They don’t look like medical bands.”
“They’re matching.” Rowan keeps studying the metalwork, looking so determined to find additional evidence that I’m half convinced he’d put the thing under a microscope if he had one. “They’re very expensive matching medical bands. And what does paired mean?”
I sigh. “It means if your heart rate spikes, I get notified.”
He just stares at me. “You want to monitor my heart rate?”
“Only the important parts. I was already tracking your location through your multi-slate, mouse. This just tells me whether you’re panicking while you’re wandering off and making terrible decisions.”
Rowan’s mouth falls open. “That is not normal.”
I shrug. “I’ve never claimed to be.”
He rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath while turning the band over in his hands again. Then his expression softens. “I’m never taking this off.”
I grin. “That was the plan.”
I lift his wrist and fasten the band into place, my thumb brushing across the inside of his pulse point before letting go. The silver catches the last of the evening light.
It looks like it belongs there, and the thought has something warm unfurl in my chest.
Yeah. Definitely belongs there.
“Nobody could explain how a working-class kid from Düren ended up with a Noctis scholarship that shouldn’t have existed anymore,” I say. “At first, that was all it was. A job.”
Rowan watches me for a moment. “And then?”
I huff out a laugh. “Then you showed up. Terrified, completely out of your depth, and still arguing with people twice your size. After that, I kept seeing you everywhere. In the conservatory. In practice rooms. Playing the Noctis like it was the only thing keeping you together. You were so handsome it took my breath away.”
Rowan’s smile gentles, and there’s something there, something precious, something that shows he knows. He knows. Because he feels it too. “And that was enough?”
“No.” I squeeze his hand. “But it was enough to make me start paying attention. The Orlov ban meant the timing was bad. Even Sola acknowledged that. Everybody who cared about that situation was already looking over their shoulder. You were unlucky, or lucky, I guess. So beautiful—”
“Is that why you came to the pool?”
“Yeah.”
Fuck me, seeing my mouse for the first time in that water, glaring at me like I was the enemy while I kept finding excuses to come back for more…
“You were magnificent, Rowan.”
He holds up a hand. “So you came because you had to spy on me. And here I was thinking you were interested—”
“Oh, I was, baby. Still am. Always will be.”
A flush creeps across his cheeks. “So you liked me.”
I huff. “Liked you? Oh no, mouse. There were many things I felt when I was around you, but liking you didn’t quite fit the bill.”
I’m obsessed with you.
Enamored with you.
Intoxicated by you.
Completely and catastrophically gone for you.
Liking you never even entered the conversation.
Rowan studies my face as if he’s trying to fit that admission into everything else he knows about me. Then he shifts slightly against the pillows. “What about your parents?”
I frown. “What about them?”
“How did they react when they realized…” His ears turn pink. “Us.”
I smile despite myself. “You’re too late, princess. Mom has already approved of us. And Dad figured it out at the glass pavilion.”
“During the concert?”
I nod. “At some point, he watched me spend an entire evening staring at you instead of paying attention to anything else and decided the scholarship student probably wasn’t the real problem anymore.”
Rowan laughs and regrets it. The sound breaks off as he winces.
I shake my head. “Don’t.”
“What did you tell him?”
I look down at our joined hands. “I told him I hadn’t been keeping an eye on the scholarship student for a very long time.”
That wasn’t entirely true. Dad and I never actually finished that conversation. Rowan was taken before either of us could say much more, and every other concern fell away the moment we started hunting for him.
“Mom found out before she ever laid eyes on you.”
“That’s so humiliating.” The color in his cheeks deepens, eyes narrowing as though he’s considering murder. I ignore the threat completely, far too fucking satisfied by the smile sitting on his gorgeous lips.
He almost looks like himself again, warm and alive and impossible, and I find myself memorizing the sight before it can disappear.
Rowan glances down at the band in his hand. “So, what happens now?”
The question catches me off guard. “What do you mean?”
He shifts carefully against the pillows, and pain tightens his features. After a moment, he settles again and looks toward the window before returning his attention to me. “All of it. I mean, what are we supposed to do with this?”
I’m already smiling. “With what?”
His eyes narrow. “Don’t.”
The smile only gets worse. “Fine.”
His gaze drops to our joined hands. “You’re going to inherit half the underworld. I’m a poor musician.”
“A very good musician, if I may add.”
“My point is that you may want to…reconsider. I wouldn’t take offense. Not really. Okay, maybe just a bit.”
I look down at our hands, my gaze lingering on the band around his wrist and the bruises scattered across fingers that belong on Noctis strings.
“Afraid I can’t do that. You see, my cousin is already moving his obsession into the mansion, and I’m about to do the same thing.
After that, we’ll work our way through college.
Then you’ll become the best Noctis player on this side of the Reach.
I’ll pretend not to be the canniest mobster hanging on your arm, ‘cause I don’t want to ruin your reputation—”
Rowan elbows me in the side with a laugh that’s so pure it shoots right through my heart. “You’re crazy.”
“But you like it.”
“And then?”
“Then, mouse, I suppose we’ll find out what happens when a Noctis player and a future crime boss are stupid enough to fall in love.”
His head turns, brows drawing together. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.” I run my thumb over the new band at his wrist. “Half your clothes are already in my wardrobe. Damaris has colonized the kitchen. The staff treat both of you like permanent fixtures, and if we’re being honest, I’ve been mentally rearranging my life around you for months.”
Rowan’s mouth curves, but I keep going before he can interrupt.
“Right now, the only thing we’re actually arguing about is how long it takes you to realize you’re not going anywhere.”
Something soft flickers in his eyes. “You’ve really thought about this.”
“Obviously,” I huff, which earns a scoff. Thankfully, his fingers tighten around mine, and that gesture speaks more truth than his words ever could.
“That’s not what I meant, though.”
I press his hand between both of mine.
I know. Of course I do.
“I mean after all that.”
I just look at him. At the bandages. At the medical band resting against his wrist. At the fact that he’s here.
Still fucking here.
“I’ll probably be running the family by then. Mom will finally start stepping back, which means everyone will suddenly discover they have opinions. And you’ll be playing.”