Chapter Twenty-One #2
I flick a glance at my phone. No messages, no missed calls from Jace or the brothers. There's still time.
He nods, unperturbed. "The staff here are mine. We can speak freely. Do you wish to begin? I imagine you have questions for me."
I go for one of the easier ones first. "Hawthorn Industries has ties to the criminal world. And I don't mean the vampire blood business."
"Yes." A simple answer as the first course arrives—artful little plates of dips with fresh bread.
Darius swirls his wine and continues, "That's inevitable.
We work with construction, land management, city planning—the big picture things.
The criminal underworld is intertwined with what gets approved and what doesn't. Human institutions have always had their underbellies.
" He takes a sip, calm as water. "I am not a crimefighter, Sage.
My mission is nature. As long as I can steer the influence where I need it, I deal with whoever holds the power. "
"You never told me."
His gaze sharpens faintly. "That part didn't touch you. But you're right. Once we were engaged, I should have told you the wider truth of Hawthorn Industries."
I chew the bread, drink the wine. It's good and apparently I'm hungrier than I thought. The plates are cleared before I realize I've finished, and I press forward.
"The second attack. It was organized. You staged it so you could save me. Keep me."
"Yes." His answer is unflinching. "Because you ran. If I had let you go, someone would have attacked you eventually. But then I wouldn't have been able to step in."
The next dish arrives, steaming and rich, and the scent makes my mouth water despite the fury curdling in my chest.
My fingers clench white around the glass. "You manipulated me."
"I did. I won't apologize for it. It was necessary."
He believes his words. And the worst thing is—a small, unwanted part of me believes them too.
I clench my teeth, irritation curling hot and sharp at him and at myself. I take a long sip of wine just to buy time, then set the glass down harder than I should. "How does your influence actually work?"
His eyes flick to the crystal at my throat, then back to me. "Not like a vampire's. It's subtler. If I told you to jump off a cliff, you wouldn't."
"That doesn't make it better."
"No," he agrees easily, cutting a measured bite of food. "Influence is still influence. Even when it works on emotions, on nudges, instead of commands."
I lean forward, nails digging into my palm under the table. "You said you never used it on me. Is that true?"
He drops his gaze. A long pause. Then: "No."
I knew it. The confirmation lands heavy, my stomach knotting even though part of me expected it. I keep my eyes locked on him, waiting for the blow.
"The first time you came to us—when Darlene brought you—you were wild.
Out of your mind with fear. Distrustful.
Hurt by the ache of nature clawing at you, and you didn't even know what it meant.
You were feral, Sage. A nymph on the edge of breaking.
" He swirls his glass. "I used my influence to calm you.
To quiet the panic, and let you see past fight-or-flight long enough to breathe. That was the only time."
"I don't believe you." My voice comes out weaker than I want, conviction slipping. "I know that satyr's powers strengthen when bonded to a nymph. You made sure I said yes when you proposed. That I… that I would feel something for you." I choke on the word love, dodging it like poison.
"If power was all I wanted," he says, leaning in, steady, "why take a year to court you? To dine with you, talk with you, learn you. Body, mind, soul. I could have taken what I wanted quickly. But I didn't."
I grit my teeth. "Or maybe you needed time to make it stick. Maybe you're lying now."
"I could be," he says simply. "And I can't prove otherwise.
I can only tell you the truth and hope you can hear it.
" His voice softens, earnest in a way that makes my chest twist. "Sage, the bond goes both ways.
It wouldn't just feed me, it would strengthen you.
If all I wanted was more power, don't you think I'd be married to every nymph who works for me? "
"I know you were married at least once before," I say, testing the words, watching for a reaction.
Darius exhales heavily, leaning back, and for the first time tonight, his composure is shadowed by something ancient, something carved centuries ago. "So Sybil told you that, too."
My stomach tightens. "You know it was her?"
The nymph who whispered truths to me, who gave me the undercurrents, just enough to follow the trail myself.
He nods, slow and solemn. "Yes. When you ran, we investigated everyone, traced every step. I needed to know how you uncovered what you did, and Sybil's part became clear soon enough."
I swallow hard, my voice barely steady. "What… what happened to her?"
"She was reassigned," he answers.
I tilt my head, unsure if it's an euphemism.
"She is working at our research station in Siberia," Darius clarifies.
"Oh." The word slips out as I wince. "That must be miserable for her."
A tropical forest nymph buried in ice and permafrost.
"That is the point of a punishment," he replies without hesitation, finishing his glass. "As for my previous marriage… yes. I was married to a nymph. Once. One thousand six hundred and forty-four years ago, if you want precision."
My pulse skips. "And she died."
His gaze holds mine openly. "She was taken from me and murdered… It was my fault."
The wine tastes bitter as it burns down my throat. "Murdered by who?"
"Dionysus."
The name slams into me. My eyes widen. "The god?"
He inclines his head, voice quieter now, almost reverent. "Our god. Yes. I made a mistake, defied him in something I thought small, but he did not. He took his wrath out on her, even as I begged him to take me instead."
I slump back in my chair, air knocked out of me. I braced to hear manipulation, cold confessions, but not this. Not grief braided with mythology, a heartbreak that still bleeds across centuries.
"It was a long time ago, Sage," he says, steady again. "It has nothing to do with you. Or with us."
I exhale shakily, trying to anchor myself, but my thoughts won't settle. The servers clear the plates. I don't remember eating the last course.
"And you never married again."
"No, never." His tone is firm, quiet steel. "Marriage amplifies my power, as you guessed. If I ever needed it for a specific purpose, I would have done it. However, personally, I never wanted to bind myself that way again. Not until you."
My chest twists, tight and unbearable, because I don't know if this is truth or manipulation, or both at once. If he's lying, it's masterful. And if he isn't… then I am the villain in his story.
He leans forward, eyes fixed on me. "In myths, it is always satyrs who chase nymphs.
But reality is more complex. A bond between us empowers the nymph as much as the satyr—it is not a cage, but an exchange.
Do you see? I wasn't seeking marriage. I turned it away, again and again.
The ones who came to me sought the bond for themselves, and I refused.
With you, I chose. And the time I took to get to know you was not a game, nor a manipulation.
It was me making certain that if I bound myself again, it would be to the right person. "
I rub my temples, the weight of everything pressing down just as the servers glide in with dessert. A flawless tiramisu, layered, artful, the kind of thing that should make my mouth water. Instead it makes my stomach turn.
Dessert. Shit. I check my phone under the table. Still nothing. Relief flickers, and then curdles.
"I didn't realize it was so late," I say quickly, pushing back my chair. "I should go."
"Stay for dessert," Darius says, but he rises with me.
"I can't. I've already taken too long. I need to—" my voice wavers, but I force it steady, "I need to think. To process. I'll write to you. But Darius… I'm married."
His jaw tightens a fraction, but he says nothing.
I turn toward the curtains, stepping out of the cocoon of velvet… and my phone explodes. Buzzing, pinging, vibrating with missed calls and messages. Jace. Kayden. Asher. Even Donna. A dozen notifications light the screen, frantic.
I freeze, cold creeping into my gut. Slowly, I glance back.
Darius is watching me, his gaze steady. My eyes sweep the curtained walls, and my heart drops.
"This," I say, voice thin with dawning fury, "whatever this contraption is—it blocked the signal."
"A Faraday cage of sorts," he answers. "I needed your undivided attention."
My hand curls tight around the phone. "And here I thought I was the villain. But you—" My voice cracks sharp, venomous. "You pull this. No matter what you lost, no matter what you tell yourself, you're still a manipulative bastard."
I spin toward the exit. He follows, steps silent at my back. "I'll take you home," he says. No more excuses or explanations.
I nod stiffly, seething. There's no point going back to Cole's. It's too late.
I send a few quick messages: I'm fine. Coming home soon. Don't call.
Kayden calls anyway. His name lights up the screen like a warning flare. I stare at it until it fades, my thumb twitching, but I don't answer.
This is going to be a disaster.
Once I'm back in the car, I turn to the window, fists clenched tight in my lap, just wanting the ride to be over, yet afraid of it ending, too.
"So the truce is on," I say flatly, not a question. "You won't hurt my friends."
"As promised." His calm tone grates.
"You're staying in Briar Hollow?" I ask.
"Yes. I hope you'll at least consider working with the project. If you stray from your purpose too long, the ache will grow worse."
I whip my gaze toward him. "You're saying that to get me closer."
His lips curve faintly. "Yes, that as well. But also for your own good. Nature gave you this new life for a reason. Have you noticed the ache worsening? Any other disturbances?"
I snap back, "The biggest disturbance is sitting in front of me." My words are sharp, but the truth twists in my chest. Because I have felt it lately, little surges of unease, heaviness I chalked up to anxiety.
"One of the reasons you felt so lost when you first came to us," he says softly, "was because of this. Because you weren't fulfilling your purpose. Working with me eased it. You know that."
My teeth grind. "Then I'll volunteer for forest cleanups if I need to. Plant trees. Pick up trash. There are other ways, Darius, ways that don't involve you."
I turn back to the window, shutting him out.
He exhales slowly, a measured sound, and says nothing more. The silence stretches, thick and heavy, filling the car all the way back to Asher's house.
Home. Where a storm in the form of Kayden is waiting.