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Because I’m headed so far in a different direction than I ought to be, and I don’t know what the hell to do with that.

I need to go the fuck home, but I don’t want to disturb Remy. Though he’d been devastated to learn of Kayla’s death, when I left him earlier, he’d been in good spirits. I don’t want to risk the fragile peace he’s found. Even if he didn’t scent her, he would realize I was gone all night. He’s not stupid, so I’m sure he’d have questions.

And what the hell could I even say?

Hey bro, I’m in love with Gwyn. Is that a problem?

Remy, I hope it’s okay, but that woman who made me think you were dead? Well, I fell in love with her before I knew the truth, and despite her lies and bullshit, I’m still in love with her.

Because that’s what this is, and I’m not too proud to recognize it anymore. I am in love with her, as surely as I was when my uncle showed me that picture of her sitting in my lap. Then, the realization had been soft and sweet, like apples and honey. Now, there’s a sharp tinge to it, like bitter whisky. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t enhance the taste of her on my tongue.

My anger stems from wounded ego, and I feel pretty fucking pathetic thinking about it. If it was more than that, I would’ve already killed her and moved on. It would’ve been easy to do, but I’m incapable. I have my brother back, and for the moment I have control of the coven I always wanted.

I’m free from every bloodsworn oath I’ve ever taken. She gave me nearly everything I could have wanted—except her. But that’s on me, isn’t it? She made it pretty fucking clear where she stood tonight. Part of me wonders if it was some sort of deathbed confession, but I can’t let my mind wander down that path. She promised me.

Promises only mean something from people you trust to keep them though. And I don’t know if I trust her yet. But I think I have to forgive her. She took it too far from the jump, but I hadn’t exactly given her a good reason to confide in me, not with the shit I said to push her away.

There are two endings to our story. I forgive her and I have her and she’s mine or I don’t—and the second path ends in death, one way or another.

Slowly, I stand, trying not to disturb the bed. It’s incredibly emasculating to tiptoe across a room, but that’s what I do, making my way out of there without setting off an avalanche of unpacked boxes.

Zuul waits at the entrance to the bedroom, tail wagging with an open mouth. I’m afraid he’s going to wake her, but he quietly pads down the hallway, certain I’m following him. Even her fucking dog has me whipped.

“Where the fuck are my pants?” I murmur, wanting to find my shit and go. I’ll stay at the compound tonight, but I can’t stay here in this penthouse. I need some time to think. I find my pants on the ground beside the couch and step into them. I kicked my shoes off before Gwyn sucked me off, but one has disappeared beneath the couch. Once I find it, I have to fish myt-shirt out between two couch cushions. Getting dressed after a confusing fuck session, especially in Gwyn’s chaos, is humbling to an annoying degree.

My thoughts continue to run rampant as I prepare to leave, and I hurry myself along as I grow tempted to wake her to say goodbye. I have to get my shit together and decide what the fuck I’m going to do, even if every instinct is telling me not to leave her tonight.

Telling me not to leave herever.

How the fuck can I control this coven, side by side with Gwyn, the woman who stole it? Not a single vampire under my control would respect me. Although, other than that night at Sanguivita, I’ve avoided any kind of responsibility with the coven since Gwyn took down my father. Honestly, I have no fucking clue what they think of all this.

Hell, for all I know, they could respect her for her cunning and want her to assume my father’s role.

Walking to the elevator, devoid of wards now that Hale has Ascended, I realize I don’t have to decide right this minute. I can take my time. I can wait to talk to Remy. As long as she keeps her promise. I hadn’t said the words clearly. I hadn’t told her not to kill herself, but she knew what I meant.

She promised me.

And if that turns out to be another lie? Well, I suppose I won’t have a moral quandary then.

She’ll be dead, and I’ll be fucked forever.

29

GWYN

When Roman pulledthe blanket over me in the middle of the night, I feigned sleep. When Zuul padded down the hallway behind him, I laid there. When the elevator doors opened, I didn’t move.

Because he left.

Because I knew he would leave, and a desperate part of me had hoped he wouldn’t.

I stared at the ceiling for quite some time, wondering about the significance of his fingertip’s caress on my shoulder. As the sun rose, the weak winter light cast an icy glow in the room, and Roman’s empty spot beside me became glaring. I’d willed myself back to sleep then, regretting it the moment I was transported back to the barren lava fields of Iceland, this time uncovering Roman’s body instead of mine as I dug through the ash. It’s a nightmare I can’t escape. The heart clasped in his hands doesn’t beat, and the urge to save him isn’t there like it was with me. An intense grief settles between my veins and climbs up my bones, and I want to crawl into the hole beside him. There’s an awareness this time, knowing none of this is real, but the emotions are consuming either way.

When I’m startled awake, I’m grateful. It’s bright now, but the winter clouds shield the exact time from me. I roll over, confused about what woke me, and I nearly jump out of my skin when I find Hale’s hazel eyes peering down into mine from where he sits on the edge of the bed.

“A blacklight hates to see you coming,” he says, making a face. “Did you two leave no surface unfucked?”

I say nothing, rolling away from Hale. I’m naked beneath the thin sheet, and I’m sure I smell like sex and regret.