Chapter 24
Nyx
I worked in a feverish white heat, absorbed in my story and the pictures that grew from it. Minutes melted into hours as I sketched, erased, shaded, redrew—the images coming faster than my hands could keep up.
Wild roses twined around a silver-haired prince, their thorns biting into his skin.
A princess shaped from heartbeat and shadows, her face tight with the kind of love that could bring down a kingdom.
A striking blond vampire sprawled on the cobblestones, a dagger jutting from her ribs, and a long black-scaled snake gliding past her head, its body thin and elegant as a tailored coat.
My nape prickled. With an effort, I dragged my gaze from my sketch. Cain stood on the other side of the coffee table, watching me.
I snapped the pad shut, sliding my mask into place—practiced smile, head tilted in fake interest. “Hi.”
Something passed over his face, like he was physically hurting. Like fake-me upset him. “Just checking on you.”
I placed the pad on the coffee table, the stick of charcoal and eraser beside it, and came to my feet. “Well, I’m fine.”
He remained where he was on the other side of the table, studying me through hooded eyes.
“What?” Uneasiness tightened my shoulders. “Is it about my father? Something happened?”
“No,” said Cain. “He’s gone dark.”
My mouth twisted. “Sounds like him. He likes pressure, likes making people crack.” He was probably waiting and watching, hoping the Maritime vampires would make a mistake.
Cain made a noncommittal grunt and crouched, rearranging my art supplies until the bottom edges formed a perfect line. Something about that made my chest clench. It was so him.
That night in London, he’d had flowers delivered to the hotel suite: calla lilies the deep red of garnets, wrapped in a black velvet ribbon.
When I’d emerged from the shower early that morning, I found him in the suite’s kitchen, slicing the end of one stem so it would match the others.
He’d glanced at me, lips tugging into a crooked half-smile, laughing at himself a little.
Then he’d said, “I want them to be perfect for you,” and my heart had gone all stupid and syrupy.
I dug my nails into my palms. “You don’t have to do that,” I told him. “I’ll only mess them up again.”
He straightened and gave me almost the same crooked smile. “Habit.”
When I didn’t say anything, his smile dissolved. “What were you drawing, anyway?”
“Pictures.”
He waited a moment and when I didn’t add anything, gave a tiny sigh. “D’you need anything? Food? Blood-wine?” His gaze landed on the untouched tray on the kitchenette counter and he crossed the room, lifting the lid on a blue earthenware soup bowl. “You didn’t eat?”
“I forgot,” I said just as my stomach growled.
He shook his head. “Go wash your hands. I’ll heat it up.”
My hands? I shot a glance at my smudged fingers and winced. There was probably a streak across my cheek, too. Correction: two streaks, according to the washroom mirror.
I scrubbed up and brushed out my now-dry hair, this time leaving it loose around my shoulders. When I returned, a steaming bowl of lobster bisque waited on the counter alongside a crusty baguette and a glass of ruby-colored blood-wine.
My mouth watered. “Thanks,” I muttered, sliding onto the stool and curling my fingers around the spoon.
Cain took the stool beside me, close enough that I could feel his warmth along my arm and thigh. When I chanced a look at him, he was watching me eat with an indulgent smile, though something darker edged it.
The answering pull in my body was immediate. I shifted on the seat, my skin tight, needy.
“You forget to eat much?” he asked.
I tore off a piece of the baguette. “No. Perla doesn’t let me.”
“Perla?”
“The lair housekeeper.”
“Yeah? You two close?”
I nodded. “She’s like the big sister I never had.”
“Human?”
“Yes, but she’s a former thrall. She’s smart, knows how things work. She looks out for me.”
“And you need that? Protection?”
My fingers dug into the baguette. “I didn’t say that.”
“No,” he said. “You didn’t.”
“Anyway, that’s all I’m saying about Perla—or the lair.” I popped a piece of bread into my mouth.
He blew out a breath. “I just want to know more about you. I’m not fishing.”
“How do I know that?”
A muscle in his jaw worked. “Fair enough. But I am interested. You never said anything about this Perla before.”
“You didn’t ask.”
He made an exasperated sound deep in his throat. A warning.
A danger-tinged thrill shivered through me, and my pulse beat in my ears, wild and hard. Goddess help me, I was enjoying this, wanted to see how far I could push him.
Which was why I had to stop.
“Hey, I understand.” I gave him my widest fake-Nyx smile. “It’s not like we had that kind of relationship. It was just sex, right?”
His hand caught mine, halting the soup spoon midair. “The hell it was.”
He rubbed his thumb over the sensitive skin between my thumb and index finger, slow and deliberate. Heat pooled low in my belly. My thighs tightened, and the spoon slid from my nerveless fingers into the bisque.
My heart thudded once, then again—like it was trying to speak for me. Send a message.
I stared at his slowly moving thumb.
This was bad for me—letting him touch me, and worse, enjoying it. I knew that. But I couldn’t bring myself to pull away.
I licked my lips. “You…” I trailed off, then tried again, louder this time. “You know that’s all it was.”
He kissed my hand and fished my spoon from the soup, wiping the handle before handing it back to me. “Eat—you’re still healing.”
I grimaced. There was my answer—a nonanswer. At least he hadn’t lied. I took another bite, the richness too heavy now, but I managed to eat a little more.
Cain waited until I put the spoon down, then took my shoulders and turned me toward him. “It wasn’t just sex for me. You remember me telling you it was real for me? That you were never a job?”
My heart constricted. Of course I remembered. “Please, don’t.”
His jaw flexed, but his gaze didn’t waver. “The time we had together was never enough. I couldn’t get you out of my head—kept thinking up ways to see you again. Please—”
He exhaled roughly. Then his expression cracked wide open, leaving him unguarded, raw. “Give me another chance, firefly. You never have to tell me a single thing about your father again. I want you, not your intel.”
All the air seemed to have been sucked from the room. I closed my eyes, the burn in my chest begging me to give in, to believe.
But my trust had been all used up.
“I can’t,” I rasped, my voice breaking on the last syllable.
He stroked my upper arms, his thighs bracketing mine. “Look at me and say that.”
I forced my lids open, met his gaze squarely. “I can’t,” I said again, steadier this time. “I won’t.”
His Adam’s apple worked. He looked like he was in as much pain as I was, which couldn’t be true.
“I’m not your enemy,” he said lowly.
That word—enemy—struck like a lash. I flinched, and he instantly released me, his eyes bright with hurt.
I slid off the stool and backed away from him. “I want you to go now.”
His shoulders slumped, just a little. Then he got off the stool. “If that’s what you want.”
“It is. Yes.”
He nodded once, then just stood there, like he was waiting for me to take it back. When I didn’t, his chest heaved in an audible breath.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then. And Nyx? Whatever you need, ask for it—alright? I’ll make sure you get it.”
“Okay,” I managed, lips numb. I turned away, arms wrapped around my ribs as if pressure alone could keep me from coming apart.
Footsteps sounded, then the door opened. Closed.
Emptiness swallowed the room.
I stood there, hollowed-out and aching, reminding myself he had reasons—good ones—for lying to me. That I had to stand firm. That he absolutely was my enemy.
But he’d seemed different. Like he’d meant every word this time.
And he’d respected my request, left me alone the moment I’d asked, without pushing or trying to change my mind.
Or maybe that was just what I wanted to see. The same way I’d once mistaken my father’s crumbs of approval for anything but manipulation.
I gave my head a hard shake. I’d never felt more confused, more alone.
Eventually, I moved back to the counter, picked up the spoon and took a mouthful of bisque. It had gone cold.
So had I.