Page 82 of Phantasm

I gasp, but when I start to protest, he holds his hand up to silence the denial on my tongue. “Spare me the lies. Just be good to him. Darian’s mind is…fragile.”

“Why are you telling me this, Sinclair? I don’t understand?—”

“You’re the daughter of his enemy.” Reaching for my hand, he removes the USB, then holds it up for me to see. “You know the truth. Your father is behind the downfall of Darian’s family, and the Exodus is behind the downfall of yours. The soul-destroying hunger for revenge brought you together, so tell me… Are you Darian’s enemy or his ally? Because trust me, if you hurt him, I’ll come for you, and I will kill you.”

Sinclair hands me the USB, and I take it with trembling fingers and a bleeding heart. Next, he removes the Antichrist necklace I lost in my shuffle with Beaumont, fishing it out of his pocket.

He descends the last step, forcing me back, then turns me around to fasten the necklace around my neck. I hold my breath, unable to look him in the eye when he moves around me and tips my chin with his curled finger. “Are you a foe, Mrs. Cecilia Delacroix?”

PRESENT

My heart breaks at the confused look in Darian’s eyes. This is what Beaumont wanted: to use Darian’s greatest weakness for blackmail, a weakness that will see him killed in this cold, heartless world. If anyone finds out about my husband’s struggles, he’ll lose his Elder position and everything he has fought so hard for.

Darian grinds his teeth, listening intently to something behind him before turning over his shoulder and shouting “shut up” to the shadows in the empty cell.

I move forward, touching his cheek and coaxing his eyes back to me. His skin is cool to the touch. “It’s okay,” I whisper.

When his pained gaze drinks me in, my heart bleeds for him. I’ve never seen my husband this broken. The hurting boy who kneeled in his father’s blood stares back at me through the eyes of this grown man.

If I could only reach into his past and soothe the hurt my father carved on his soul, but I can’t erase the past. Nothing can. Darian’s brokenness is caused by the blood flowing through my veins.

As tears glisten in his eyes, I stroke my fingers through his sharp stubble, feeling it rasp beneath my trembling touch. “It’s okay that you don’t remember.”

“Don’t remember what?” he asks, confused, as his brows pull low.

I shake my head once and push up on my tiptoes to press my lips to his, whispering, “It doesn’t matter.”

Cautious fingers land on my waist before he pulls back. “Aren’t you angry?”

“Angry?”

“Your father? He?—”

Silencing him with my lips, I cling to him like he’ll fall to pieces if I don’t glue him together with my love, somehow. My broken, perfect, beautiful man.

My ruined monster.

My fractured tormentor.

“I could never be angry with you, Darian.”

That makes him chuckle, which acts as a band-aid on my splintering heart, holding it together when it feels like it might splinter. “My art collection respectfully disagrees.”

“Well, you were an asshole.”

His big arms wrap around me, and I’m enveloped with warmth, love, and fragile hope. My own heaven. Darian seems to have forgotten about my father, for now—the phantasm of the night haunting his nightmares.

I grip onto his bloodied shirt as he thrusts his tongue between my lips.

“There are truths about Darian you don’t know yet, but when you do, just… Don’t hurt him more, okay?”

“Darian’s mind is…fragile.”

My heart pounds, slamming hard against my bruised, sore ribs. I’m growing dizzy. Darian’s love holds me in a brutal fist, squeezing me enough to hurt, enough to gasp for air, yet beg for more.

Somehow, his mind has effectively blocked out parts of his past and distorted his reality to keep him safe and in control. I don’t know what goes on inside his head, but I know he’s hurting, and I wish I could heal him, no matter how foolish that wish is.

I wrap my arm around his neck and kiss him deeper until I’m no longer aware of where he begins and I end.