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He’s right. He should leave and get as far away from me as possible, but I can’t let him leave. Not in this state.

“You’re still drunk,” I say after a moment. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“It’d be kind of dumb for me to stay in the same house as someone who wants me dead, don’t you think?”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. It’s hard to believe he just asked me to kiss him a few seconds ago, but he always does a great job at ruining the mood.

“I’m not going to kill you,” I say. “Not tonight at least.”

“That’s reassuring.” His mouth falls into a yawn and he shakes his head, the fatigue and alcohol clearly getting to him.

“Bed,” I say.

“You shouldn’t have come tonight,” he says after a second.

For once, I agree with him.

“You can use the bedroom upstairs, second door on your left. Sleep on your side so you don’t choke on your vomit,” I say quickly.

I can’t stay here. I can’t stay here with him when he’s shirtless, his face flushed and his mouth begging to be kissed. I turn, walking as fast as I can out of the kitchen and up the stairs to my own room. He can find his own way around.

When I shut the door, I lean against it, knocking the back of my head against the wood a couple of times just in case I’ve dreamt this entire thing up.

Unfortunately, I’m not dreaming, and this is real fucking life.

I almost kissed Alex.

I almost kissed the man I should have killed two years ago, and I really wanted to do it too.

You could have just taken him to his own apartment; a voice whispers in the back of my mind, but I ignore it, waiting to hear his footsteps come up the stairs. It only takes a few minutes before I hear him shut the door.

I let out a quiet sigh, both relieved and annoyed that he didn’t decide to leave instead. I move away from the door and force myself to brush my teeth and wash my face. When I look into the mirror, my eyes are bloodshot, and my entire body is flushed.

Fuck Alex.

As I slide into the bed, I curse myself again for going to pick him up from that dingy bar and, predictably, I barely get a whiff of sleep. The almost kiss keeps replaying over and over in my brain. The way his skin felt against me, the way he looked at me, desperate for something we both know we can’t give. I tell myself it’s because he was drunk; I tell myself it means nothing, but I’m not delusional enough to keep the lie up anymore.

He got that tattoo to remember us, not as a twisted trophy for what he did. It’s what I dreaded and what I secretly hoped for at the same time.

I said I loved you and you didn’t say it back, but I still got a tattoo just so I could remember how it felt to be with you.

I groan, so loudly I’m convinced he hears me.

By the time it’s three in the morning, I give up on trying to sleep and head back downstairs, grabbing the bottle of whisky and trying to forget about Alex sleeping peacefully upstairs.

To distract myself, I shift my mind to Key, who is still being held in Sying. The idea that someone in The Snake could be behind Haze has my head spinning. I haven’t shared that particular piece of information with my mother. So far, only Xander and Hayden know. If this got out, it would put all our authority in question, and I don’t think our mother, or our men will be so forgiving of this much incompetence.

I need to set a trap. A way for Key to reach out to whoever his seller is, but God knows what Xander has done to him by now to get an answer. He won’t be in any shape to meet up with anyone and if his contact does reach out and he’s not available, they could get suspicious.

My mind races, trying to figure out a plan and I barely notice the sun coming up on the horizon. I only manage to snap back to reality when I hear the quiet click of a door opening upstairs. I go still, keeping the glass of whisky at my lips. I didn’t switch the light on, and the only source of it creeps in is from the rising sun and the lights from the garden.

I keep my breathing steady as I wait for him to appear. He does, his shirt back on and his steps careful as he moves past the doorway.

“Leaving so soon?” I ask him.

He doesn’t scream or anything, just pauses, his shoulders relaxing as he spins to look at me. “Why are you in the dark?”

I shrug. “Makes me feel more mysterious.” I pause. “Glad to know my hospitality is appreciated.”