Page 9

9

I walked alongside Javier through the winding corridors of the Moon Sanctuary, our footsteps echoing in the hushed silence. Though he was right there by my side, close enough to touch, he felt like he was a thousand miles away.

I studied him out of the corner of my eye. His jaw was tight, his gaze fixed straight ahead. Through our bond, I felt a maelstrom of emotions swirling within him—anger, sorrow, guilt, and a fierce, burning protectiveness that brought tears to my eyes.

During the two decades we had been apart, I had clung to the hope that he was still alive. I supposed that, despite my powers being subdued by his blood tincture, some intuitive part of me had still sensed the bond we shared. We had been connected all along, and our hearts could never truly be separated.

Just like with Gavin. If I closed my eyes and thought of him, the sense of connection between us deepened. I could almost see his cell walls, smell the dank air, the filth of unwashed bodies. I could almost feel the ache in his limbs. The hunger. They hadn’t yet let him feed from the queens, despite letting each of the queens take some of his blood. I couldn’t explain how I knew that; I just knew.

Did the connection go both ways? Was he equally aware of me and my surroundings? I glanced sidelong at Javier. Had he been aware of what I was going through while we were apart all those years? Was he more familiar with what I went through right after he was captured than he let on? I had assumed he only knew as much as Bastian and that he had only learned of my past when Bas shared it with the class. But what if Javier had always known? What if he knew more than Bastian? What if our bond had afforded him a front-row seat to the most humiliating moments of my life?

We came to a stop outside the door to a suite. Micah’s, I assumed. Not my old suite or Amaya’s, thank the gods. I wasn’t sure I could handle ever stepping foot in either of those spaces again.

I faced Javier, questions caught in my throat. I wanted to know what was going through his head, what thoughts were making him feel so unsettled, and yet I feared the truth.

His eyes met mine and the violence in his gaze was answer enough. In that moment, I saw the deadly predator that lurked beneath his polished exterior.

I reached for him, grazing my fingertips along his clenched jaw. “Can we just pretend it never happened?” I asked, smiling weakly. That had been my go-to coping mechanism for a very long time. Why stop now? “The past is the past. All we can do is move forward.”

Javier raised his hands and rested them on my shoulders, his thumbs caressing the column of my neck. His expression softened as his gaze roved over my features, finally settling on my eyes. “I am astounded by your strength.” He bowed his head, leaning in until his breath caressed my lips when he spoke. His eyes locked with mine. “But I am weak, and you must allow me my revenge.”

With a final, lingering look, he turned and strode away, leaving me standing alone in front of Micah’s door, my heart racing and mind reeling.

“What the fuck?” I breathed, replaying his words in my head. I am weak, and you must allow me my revenge. “What the actual fuck?”

I stood frozen outside Micah’s door, Javier’s parting words echoing in my mind. The dark promise of vengeance, the barely leashed violence in his tone, had shaken me to my core. A part of me longed to call him back, to beg him not to do anything rash.

But another part, the broken girl who still lived inside me, wanted those men to suffer as I had suffered. To feel a fraction of the pain and degradation they had inflicted upon me. To take as much from them as they had taken from me.

I squeezed my eyes shut, taking a deep, steadying breath. No. I couldn’t let myself go down that path. Revenge would solve nothing, only breed more darkness and despair. I had to be better than that, stronger than my own worst impulses.

I jumped when the door to Micah’s suite cracked open.

“Sophie?” Micah’s face appeared in the gap, and he grinned broadly, opening the door wide. “I thought I heard you.”

I pasted a smile onto my face because what else was I supposed to do when I was pretty sure Javier had just promised to beat up my abusers? Oh, who was I kidding? This was Javier. He wasn’t just going to beat them up.

Micah stepped back, making room for me to enter. “You’ve got to see this place. The closet is bigger than my dorm room!”

Javier was going to kill them. But they killed Wes, so it was only fair, right? All my time in the human world told me his vigilante justice was not okay—but he wasn’t human. I wasn’t human. Wes hadn’t been there when the guys first took me in, but when he did join the group, when he realized how truly twisted the situation was, he had put a stop to it. He had saved me. From them. From me.

“Soph?” Micah stepped into the doorway and touched my arm, frowning. “Are you okay? You look—not good.”

I coughed out a laugh. “Thanks.”

He gripped my elbow and guided me into his sitting room. The tantalizing scent of freshly baked bread, tomato sauce, and basil finally floating over to me, and my mouth watered even as my stomach churned.

“You’re shaking. Are you hungry?” He led me to the cozy-looking couch near the fireplace, where an array of pizzas awaited us on the coffee table. “They just brought all this food, and I think it’s more for you than for me, so you should eat. Right? You do eat food, don’t you? Not just…” He pulled back his lips like he was baring vampire fangs and made a hissing Dracula sound. “You know…?

Another, weaker laugh bubbled up from my chest. “Yes, I eat food, you nerd. You’ve seen me pig out like a million times before. And yes , I’m starving.” I sank onto the couch, tucking my foot under my leg, and he followed, sitting beside me. “I just—” I shook my head, unwilling to dump any of the emotional baggage I carried around from the dark times onto Micah.

It was too closely tied to Wes and my pregnancy and Micah’s entire existence, and I would never— never —make him feel guilty or in any way responsible for any of the awfulness that happened before he was even born. It sucked more than words could ever express, but it also led me to Wes, which led to Micah…

Gods, what a mess.

I sighed. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

Concern etched into Micah’s features. “Do you want to talk about it?” He frowned. “Unless it has to do with that thing we agreed to never talk about again, in which case…” His frown transformed into a comical grimace. “No, thank you.”

As he spoke, moonlight slanted through the window behind him, briefly illuminating his profile, and I caught my breath. For just a moment—so fleeting I might have imagined it—his skin seemed to shimmer with a subtle silvery light, not unlike the luminescence that pulsed beneath my own skin when my power surged. I blinked, and it was gone, leaving me to wonder if exhaustion was making me see things.

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. “It’s nothing,” I said, forcing a brittle laugh. I gestured to the food on the table. “May I?”

“Oh, shit. Yeah.” Micah reached for the stack of two plates on his end of the coffee table and handed one to me.

Static electricity sparked between us, and I jerked away. “Sorry!” I hissed.

“Ow,” he said, his faux wounded expression striking me like a physical blow. It was exactly the way Wes used to tease me whenever I accidentally hurt him—that same whine, the same pouty lip, the same crinkle at the corner of his eyes.

For a moment, superimposed over this capable young man, I saw the nervous thirteen-year-old I’d watched at his parents’ house. I’d stood across the street with a dog I’d taken on as a dog-walking client purely because of the proximity of her home to Micah’s. My heart had hammered as I watched him ride his bike down the steep driveway. He’d been lanky and uncoordinated, caught between childhood and adolescence, and both his bike and his helmet had seemed too big for him. I’d prayed to any divine force who would listen to watch over him. To protect him.

Now here he was, so grown up—a perfect blend of Wes’s sharp intelligence and my stubborn resilience. The contrast between that uncertain boy and this confident young man stole my breath. He needed that divine protection now, more than ever.

Micah watched me as I piled a few slices of pizza onto my plate—one sausage and mushrooms, one Canadian bacon and pineapple, one caprese drizzled with balsamic. His concerned stare was impossible to ignore.

I lifted a slice to my mouth but paused before taking a bite, glancing at Micah sidelong. “I’m fine, really,” I claimed. I even kind of believed it.

Micah scoffed and eyed my pizza dubiously. “Says the lady about to eat pizza with pineapple on it.”

I flashed him a cheesy grin, then took a large bite of said pizza. “Mmm…fruity pizza,” I moaned around the mouthful.

Micah narrowed his eyes. “Gross.” He turned his attention to the pizzas laid out before us, selecting a few slices of his own—none with pineapple.

“How’re your shoulders?” I asked. If I hadn’t seen the shifter dig its claws into him myself, I never would have believed he had been so gravely injured just a few days earlier.

Micah shrugged, chewing fast and swallowing. “Good as new. Magic potions are sweet. Way better than drugs.” He took another bite, speaking around the food. “Could give big pharma a run for their money.”

“For real,” I said between bites.

The normalcy of eating pizza with Micah grounded me. For a moment, I could pretend we were back on campus, sharing a bite during a tutoring session. Micah’s presence was a balm, his easy acceptance of all the craziness of this situation inspiring me to get a grip on my flailing emotions. If he could handle having his world turned upside down and being thrust into the middle of a war between immortal Houses he hadn’t even known existed a few days ago, I could handle Javier’s thirst for vengeance. And the pressure to master my powers. All while I found a way to rescue Gavin and the queens. And protect my son. And avert the apocalypse and drive back the Shadow King.

I chewed mechanically, no longer tasting the sweet and savory flavors of the Hawaiian pizza.

Micah left his last slice of pizza untouched on his lap and stared at the unlit fireplace. “The last few days have been pretty intense.”

I snorted softly and swallowed the bite in my mouth, feeling like an asshole when my first thoughts of how intense the last few days had been were about me and not him. Maybe it wasn’t that he was handling this all so well, but just that he was better than me at hiding his inner freak-out.

“How are you doing?” I looked around the sitting room, like it represented the insanity of the immortal world. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“I, well—” Micah set his plate on the coffee table and faced me, angling his knees toward me, his expression pensive. “I’ve been thinking…” He paused, licking his lips nervously. “What if you turned me? Made me an undead vampire sooner rather than later? Like, now soon.”