Page 27

GWYN

Roman walks into the bar, and I immediately notice the shift in the air.

He might be a vampire and he might think I’m clueless, but my hunter instincts perk up the moment he crosses the threshold.

It’s electricity. On the outside, I play oblivious.

On the inside, my senses howl. I’m that haunting mountaintop photograph of two grinning brothers moments before the storm.

My hair stands on end, and I’m grinning at the camera.

Unlike those kids, though, I’m expecting the strike.

My skin pebbles as I lean toward Hale. “Need that shot now,” I say, and he gives me a knowing look.

He doesn’t make it obvious by looking toward the door, but he’s aware from my tone that Roman has arrived.

He doesn’t hide the worry lingering in his eyes.

Hale thinks I’m suicidal to go through with this plan, and I don’t argue with him.

But I’m confident in what I plan to do. And besides, now that we’re waiting for the scheduled photoshoot, I don’t think I can turn back if I wanted to.

Josh’s proposal had been a catalyst, reminding me that I’d never have a normal life.

I’d hidden this part of myself from him, and I still hadn’t been enough.

But this? I’m fucking made for it.

It’s about time I take my birthright and infiltrate the coven that haunted my family over the years, ultimately taking my parents from me.

I’ve been meticulous with my questions for Remy. At this point, I think I know Roman better than I know myself.

And it unsettles me.

From what his brother has said of him, Roman is fiercely protective of his family—to a fault.

Every now and then, I wonder if I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.

Since Remy’s forced phone call, we’ve watched his brother’s movements, and he’s been thorough in his examination of demon circles closer to his home in Chicago.

He hasn’t ventured toward the coast yet, or there’d be a trail of bodies.

Methodically, he’s killed the host bodies of at least a dozen demons, and I’ve wondered if he has a limit.

Sometimes, I wonder if my biological father has more of an impact on me than I want him to. Because when it comes to protecting Sasha and Hale, I doubt I have a limit either.

Hale shoves a shot glass into my hand, and I don’t bother looking at it before tossing it back. The liquid is frigid, and my nostrils burn.

“Jesus. What was that?” I ask, taking note of Roman’s purposeful stroll to the back corner of the bar.

With the kind of imposing build and height that should be illegal, he somehow manages not to draw attention from anyone but me.

I hope I hide it well enough. He sits in a corner booth like some sort of death metal Aragorn, hat pulled low over his eyes while his tattooed fingertips drum the table.

Manspreading like a motherfucker, he embodies a “don’t fuck with me” attitude.

And no one does. I wonder if the humans can sense him like I can—just in a different way.

“J?ger,” Hale trills, and I snort.

“No wonder it was cold,” I say, shaking my shoulders loose. I turn, just a fraction, so as to get a better view of my stalker in the corner. Even though I could sense his presence with my eyes closed, it makes me feel better to keep a visual on him.

“It didn’t work with Maya, but I really think you ought to ? —”

“Not right now,” I say, jabbing my friend in the stomach.

The last thing I want to try to do is compel another vampire while Roman is nearby.

I suspect it’s only something I’ll be able to do once I Ascend, and that’s all that matters.

In the meantime, I could always use more practice resisting the command of a vampire, but not while Roman is around.

Hale nods toward the other presence in the packed bar.

Though not as intense of a storm as Roman, the slender vampire playing darts has already drawn my attention.

There is no foreboding sense of danger with them, but I still can’t let my guard down.

And all I want to fucking do is let my guard down.

With Roman following me for weeks, I’ve been on high-alert.

And with the new camera he’d installed in my fucking bedroom, I can’t even rub one out to ease my nerves.

I was tempted to do it the other night anyway, dickhead vampire voyeur and all.

What kind of self-respecting single woman pushing thirty doesn’t masturbate, anyway?

And I know he’s rummaged through my shit, so he has to wonder why my vibrators are accumulating dust.

Fucked if I do, fucked if I don’t…fuck myself, I guess? Or something like that.

Hale tilts his head to the side. “I think I might be their type anyway,” he says, as the dart-playing vampire trails a seductive fingertip up a man’s chest. The man leans forward, playfully nipping at the vampire’s fingertips.

“I don’t have to fuck them to compel them,” I mutter. “Just thought it might be easier, is all.”

“All that matters is you can resist it when you need to, I suppose,” Hale responds. “I’m cutting myself off by the way, so drink up, buttercup. He won’t believe it unless you do it right.”

Hale shoves the recently arrived Dirty Shirley into my hand before pushing off the bar. He heads to the dance floor, gesturing for me to follow. The bass thumps heavy beneath my breastbone, and I try very hard not to look at the imposing figure in the corner.

I should be pleased Hale has agreed to being my DD: Designated Death-Intervener. I’ve mostly gotten over the whole “drink away my feelings” thing, but Roman doesn’t need to know that.

Roman needs to pity me. He needs to think I’m a goddamn mess. Because Roman likes to clean up messes. It’s self preservation to lean into the sloppy party-girl persona. So what if it feels an awful lot like the old me has come out to play?

I adjust my top, making sure my boobs look perfect, before I follow my friend to the dance floor. He tugs me close and steals a sip of my drink before leaning down to whisper in my ear.

“I think you like putting on a show for him,” he says.

I bite my lip.

So what if I do?

After the dream I had last night, all I wanted to do was go back to sleep.

But after checking the footage from the last twelve hours, I think perhaps what I really want is to never wake up.

I slam my laptop shut, and Sasha peeks her head into my room.

She thinks the curtains have been shut because the sun hurts my eyes.

She probably thinks I’m hungover, and that’s why I’m still in bed.

I doubt she realizes just how close I am to a mental breakdown.

She’s not who I need when I’m on the verge of losing it. The person I need is on his seventh or eighth straight day of getting his dick wet and avoiding talking to both me and Sasha.

Sasha is dressed like she’s about to go somewhere.

She’s wearing black, skin-tight leggings with a thick Velcro knee brace on top.

Emile had only managed to bruise her kneecap—which I didn’t even know was possible—and with time, she’ll be fine.

Despite the brace, her outfit looks great.

She wears a turtleneck beneath a thick, olive-green coat that nearly touches the tops of her shiny leather boots.

Her hair is piled on top of her head in a stylish wrap, and she’s wearing makeup.

Her brown skin is glowing with highlighter.

I don’t know why; it’s not like we’ve left the penthouse in a week.

She’s been entertaining herself with books from Bjorn’s library and a game on her cell phone.

Right now, we’re almost in purgatory, waiting for Hale to return.

But he won’t be the same, and we both know it. We’re tiptoeing around the bitter truth and giving each other space.

I don’t think I’ve left my room the past week.

“You alright?” she asks.

All I do is glare at her. I do have a headache, after all. I’m tempted to roll away from her when she sits at the foot of my bed.

“Same girl or a new one?” When she nods toward my laptop, my mouth drops open, and I sit up against the headboard.

All she does is smirk at me. “You think I’m not watching you like a hawk?

I know what this is.” She gestures at the state of my room, at the state of me .

“You’ve been listening to Morrissey, for fuck’s sake. ”

“The Smiths, not?—”

“Point stands.”

“Morrissey is a douchebag?—”

“You’ve been watching Roman again.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I can see you log into the system!” Sasha says, tossing her hands up in exasperation.

“I have the login. The minute she left this morning, I got a notification. And another when you pulled up the footage.” When she grabs my ankle and squeezes, I inhale a breath that is far too shaky for my comfort.

She thinks I’m a traitor because I fell for Roman, and she won’t forgive me for it anytime soon.

Especially if I’m creeping on him and his fucking booty calls.

I don’t deserve it anyway.

“I just want to know what he’s up to.”

“Of course you want to. But do you need to? Isn’t that why me and Hale are here? To help you?” Sasha has a knack for being a gentle asshole. She says the shit I need to hear, but her delivery is usually soft. Even as her words sting, the grip on my leg is soothing. A tether.

“You know that’s not the only reason I need you both,” I say, staring at a snag on the bedspread.

I want to pull on it. I want to unravel the blanket slowly, watch as it turns into a pile of loose thread.

If I could unwind my insides and twist my intestines into the mess, perhaps I’d be able to untangle this wretched feeling in my stomach.

Sasha raises a brow. “Mhm,” she murmurs, fiddling with a ring she’s wearing. I don’t recognize it, and I assume it’s something she bought while I was gone.

While I was willingly held captive, and had lost myself in the process.