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Even Jean Luc cannot absolve that.

As if I’ve summoned him with my thoughts, his deep, familiar voice drifts toward me from the alleyway behind the Tower.

I close my eyes, unwilling to believe what I’m hearing at first. It wouldn’t be the first time my mind has played tricks on me. When a second voice joins his, however—this one sharp, feminine, and unfamiliar—my eyes snap open.

Jean Luc often starts his mornings with exercise.

Scrambling to my feet, heedless of my wild hair and translucent nightgown, I dart around the corner. My lips have already formed his name when I skid to a halt, frowning at the scene before me. Because there is Jean Luc, of course—dressed in the lightweight clothing he wears to exercise—but behind him stands a tall, pale woman with golden hair. I frown, ducking into the shadows before either of them notices me. The woman wears the same lightweight clothing as Jean Luc, performs the same leisurely stretches, as if she is about to... well,joinhim.

He never allowed me to join him before.

I peer at the woman closer, forcing myself to focus through the blurred edges of my vision. Someone has lit the two torches flanking the side entrance to the Tower. The flames flicker slightly in the drizzle. Though the woman appears to be around my age, she holds herself with more confidence, her shoulders straight and proud despite her height. Her bright hair pulled tightly away from her face. It elongates her already foxlike features, emphasizes the high lines of her cheekbones.

Though she is not traditionally beautiful, I cannot look away.

“This is getting pathetic, Toussaint.” With a smirk, she pullsone long arm across her chest, stretching the muscle, before moving on to the next one. “If you want to spend more time with me, you need only ask.”

Though Jean Luc rolls his eyes, a small smile plays on his lips too. “You flagged in the training yard yesterday, Brigitte. Henry almost bested you. I thought you could use a little extra time to wake up this morning.”

She snorts. “I still kicked your ass.”

“Language.” He doesn’t sound angry, however. He doesn’t sound exasperated or disappointed either. No. He sounds almost... pleased with her.

I stare at the young woman hungrily.

Still smirking, she falls quiet and bends to stretch her legs. She watches Jean Luc from the corner of her crystalline eyes, however. Like a moth drawn to the flame. And I cannot even blame her—Jean Luc has always been beautiful. Not like a vampire, of course, but... like a man. I can hear the steady beat of his heart, can practicallyfeelthe warmth and vitality radiating from him even from my hiding place. And suddenly, I can’t stay hidden any longer. Stepping into the torchlight, I murmur, “Jean.”

Both he and Brigitte turn in unison.

Though his gaze widens at the sight of me—his pupils dilating, his mouth parting on a slow exhale—his entire body hardens as if preparing for attack. My own body tenses in response. He looked the same when he visited last week—like he’d never seen anyone so beautiful, and like he never wanted to see me again. “Célie,” he breathes.

At the sound of my name, Brigitte glances warily between us, and the light in her eyes seems to harden.She’s heard of me.I don’tknow whether to feel better or worse about that. No one in Chasseur Tower would’ve said anything complimentary—not that it matters what they say anymore. I shake myself internally, and the world seems to shudder with me. My thoughts remain scattered, distant. Impossible to catch.

I focus instead on the sound of Jean Luc’s heartbeat.

It beats in time with the dull pounding in my head.Tha-thump. Tha-thump. Tha-thump.I never noticed his heartbeat when I was alive—never realized how important it would be. How precious. Though I try to ignore it, nausea spikes in my stomach again. Because now he has another’s heartbeat to match.

“Who is she?” I whisper, swaying on my feet.

When my eyes flutter, Jean Luc’s narrow, and he inches closer reluctantly, thrusting an arm out to prevent Brigitte from following. “Go inside,” he says sharply.

Brigitte doesn’t move. Instead she watches me coldly, her gaze clear and sharp and blue. “I think I’ll stay here.”

“Now, Brigitte.”

Lip curling, she retreats slowly, not turning her back until she reaches the door. Even then, she hesitates, opens her mouth as if to speak. At the last second, however, she seems to change her mind, exhaling harshly before turning on her heel and disappearing inside, her long hair whipping out of sight behind her.

“Célie?” Jean Luc lifts his hands cautiously, as if preparing to steady me, or perhaps to ward me off. “Are you all right? Is something wrong?” He glances behind me. “Where are the others?”

I want him to touch me.

Please don’t touch me.

“I came alone.”

“Why?”

I have no answer for that. I have no answer for anything anymore, perhaps never had them at all. There is only his heartbeat.Tha-thump. Tha-thump. Tha-thump.Instead I say, “I think I might be dying.”