Page 6

Sasha makes an impatient sound in her throat, and I turn to face her.

Just a little shorter and smaller than me, the two of us are very close to the same size.

But for whatever reason, I feel as if I tower above her.

Perhaps my recent Ascension has straightened my spine or given me some height.

It’s disconcerting. My sister chose a darker red for her hair while I was gone.

Her curls remind me of dried blood and entrails, and I bite my tongue with the need to quench my thirst. She takes her jacket off and tosses it over the back of a chair.

“Is that mine?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at the black leather.

“You weren’t using it,” she retorts, a brow lifting in challenge.

“Your roots are going to show soon,” she says, and I wave her off.

I don’t need spells anymore. Every time I look in the mirror, I wait for a hint of the golden hair I’m meant to have.

It reminds me of why I did this. The little girl in Nonna and PopPop’s pictures with the sunflower hair deserved better than the life she got.

“It’s fine.”

“You sure? It’s gonna look weird. You already look weird.”

I don’t have time to think about her implication before Hale is on me.

With a squeeze tight enough it would’ve knocked the breath out of me before my change, he holds me against him.

When he presses a kiss to my temple, I laugh and wrap my arms around my best friend.

I can’t think about my Ascension and how different I must look to them when Hale squeezes me like he’ll never let me go.

“I know I said I’d support you with whatever you decided, but please don’t ever do anything like that again. My god. You have no idea how glad I am to see you. I can finally sleep again.”

Swallowing, I look down at my feet. Though we’d discussed the plan a thousand times while hidden behind a cloak of Hale’s magic, I’m still nervous.

Despite the knowledge of what Susan did, despite him being aware of what I planned to do after she betrayed my family, is it really possible Hale won’t be angry that I killed his mother?

When he leans back, it’s almost as if he reads my mind. His long fingers grip my chin, tilting my gaze to his, and then he flicks my nose.

“So, give us the timeline. Did you blow your cover when you killed my mother? Did she blow mine ? Did he ever have a clue?”

I almost refuse to answer all of his questions, but decide on only ignoring the one about Roman. “No, she…she tried to protect you. Told Roman you were just a human.”

Hale scoffs, but he plays with the ends of his long, golden hair. I wonder if he regrets helping orchestrate my vengeance. “Least the bitch could do, I guess, after killing your parents and trying to get me to breed my best friend.”

“She said you called her?” I purse my lips, surprised by my friend’s actions while I was locked away in the compound.

“Every night,” he says, and a smile forces its way onto his lips—faint, but still there. His pale face goes a bit rosy at his cheeks. “I think I might pursue community theater. After the first time, pretending to cry about you was easy.”

“Oh, but the first time was hard?” I tease, but his smile disappears.

“Yeah. Because I was actually worried about you.” He takes a step back and runs his fingers through his hair—a nervous tic he’s had since I’ve known him.

Since we were in middle school and our parents assigned him to watch over me—hopeful that his skills as a warlock would protect me as he trained to be a sorcerer.

I suppose his mom hadn’t expected the friendship and loyalty which would grow between us.

That one day, he’d question why he was supposed to report my every move to her.

“But we shouldn’t have been worried, right, Hale?” Sasha asks. My sister steps closer, and it’s clear by her tone and posture that she’s angry.

“Dammit, Sash, you said you’d wait to do this.”

“Yeah, well, sorry,” she snaps. My sister is furious. I see it in the twitch of her left eye, the flare of her nostrils.

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

“Your traitorous ass was already halfway in love with him when you let him take you.”

“What?”

“Before you even fucking left, before you decided to go on your mission.”

“Sash—” Hale attempts to interrupt, but her arm swings outward, bangles on her wrists twinkling together in a cacophony of accusation.

“No, you don’t get to defend her on this,” she growls, and I think my throat might close up. Because she’s right. As much as I’ve betrayed Roman, I’ve betrayed them too. I just hadn’t expected them to figure it out so soon.

Hale sighs and puts his hands in his pockets. His nails are painted black, and I’m glad he tucks them away so I can’t fixate on how chipped they are.

“You saw his shitstain of a brother and thought that if Roman Sauveterre could love someone like him, could go to the lengths he did for his brother, then maybe he’d be able to love someone like you .” Virulent, her words send a shiver of heat down my spine and my cheeks flush.

I can hardly breathe as I try to speak. “That’s not…I didn’t…”

The sting in the back of my nose doesn’t allow me to continue. If I do, if I defend myself, my body will double cross me and I’ll start to cry. But I don’t want to cry. I want to rage and scream and tell her how wrong she is. But I can’t.

And I don’t know if it’s because she’s wrong or because she’s right.

“Jesus, Sash,” Hale says. “That’s pretty fucked.”

“Mind your business,” Sasha retorts.

He walks down an aisle of books, plopping himself down on an oversized, tufted loveseat, and leans back.

He mutters something about this definitely being his business, but Sasha doesn’t hear him.

Hands behind his head, he settles in for what he believes will be a long argument.

When Sasha inhales deeply, I realize he’s probably right.

“You think you’re so goddamn unlovable that you salivate at the heels of anyone who might give you an ounce of attention. But I’m right fucking here, Gwyn. I’ve been loving you for as long as I can remember, and that’s never been enough.”

I roll my lips inward, tamping down my emotions.

A tear rolls down my cheek, and if I say anything now, she’s angry enough that she might call me manipulative—even if she doesn’t mean it.

Despite the apologies in the past for her half-mumbled accusations, part of me wonders if Sasha truly believes what she says.

But would she be wrong? I’ve never done anything more manipulative in my life than I have these past few weeks. But I hadn’t done it toward her, had I?

“Has it?” she asks as she sits down at the table nearest the electric fireplace inset into the wall. “Has it been enough?” She doesn’t look at me as she places her head in her hands.

“It’s…It’s not like that. There’s just no way for you to understand?—”

“You don’t have to understand to love someone,” she mutters, and when she looks up at me, I realize she’s crying. I haven’t seen her cry since we were kids. She didn’t cry when our parents died. She didn’t cry over boys or grades. Over anything.

Sasha doesn’t cry.

She’s my big sister and best friend, and she is practical and strong, and she doesn’t cry.

And yet, her sclera have gone red and she blinks hard.

She doesn’t look at me as her fingertips dip beneath the black satin hair band she wears for sleep and travel.

When she massages her temples and twists her neck to crack it, I know I’m in for it.

And for some reason, that frustrates me all the more.

“I just don’t know why?—”

“No, you’re right. You can love me even if you can’t understand.

And it’s okay that you don’t get it. I don’t…

I-I don’t begrudge you for it,” I stammer.

“But the truth is, you don’t understand.

Neither do Hale and Roman,” I say, pulling myself up to my full height as I utter the name of the vampire who would likely enjoy seeing me succumb to my mental illness.

“But at least with them, they don’t tell me to ‘just go outside and get some fresh air.’ That’s not how it fucking works! ”

Her eyes widen a fraction. Sasha and I rarely yell at one another. In fact, I can’t remember the last time we exchanged anything more than exasperation. Her posture goes taut as she attempts to interrupt. I don’t let her.

“You can’t just put a spring breeze air freshener around my neck and expect that rope to suddenly stop being a noose!”

Sasha’s mouth is a tight line and she doesn’t stop staring at me.

For a moment, I don’t move, stuck in our standoff.

Briefly, I wonder if I saw some sort of recognition flutter across her face, but her jaw tightens.

I wonder if Hale plans to interject on my behalf, and I look past Sasha to find him.

He’s in the same relaxed position as before, but his gaze meets mine.

I don’t understand, but I’m here.

And that’s been enough. It’s been fine. It’s been appreciated beyond measure. But while Hale was there for me through the thick of it, always ready to lend an ear and force me to bathe, I can’t help but think of Roman.

Roman refused to give quarter to my depression. Roman poked and prodded at that evil little beast in my mind, making me talk about it and capitulate to its existence. Roman coaxed the monster from the shadows and attempted to tame it.

Roman made me feel seen in a way Hale hadn’t been able to accomplish, and now I know it is possible.

Not for the first time, I wish I would have told Roman everything in the cemetery.

His words had made me doubt his feelings, but I’m not stupid.

I felt it. I knew in the back of my mind.

And even if I still couldn’t believe the depth of his affection for me when he’d screamed that he loved me as his father dragged me away, I saw the truth on his face in the ballroom.

I saw his relief and confusion and heartbreak when he understood what I’d done.

He’d loved me, truly, and the weight of that still threatens to overpower me.

Despite my betrayal of him and my betrayal of my sister, I won’t allow her to turn the only good thing that happened these last few weeks into a mistake.

“You’re right, Sasha,” I say, stepping close to the table.

My thighs press against the edge, and Sasha stares at my favorite jeans, probably wondering how they got here.

I decide not to tell her Roman bought them for me.

Defiance hardens my sister’s features. Her eyebrows raise, and every line of her face is contemptuous.

The tip of her wide nose is red, the only physical sign of her emotion.

“It wasn’t on purpose, but you’re right,” I say. “Remy was just…just…proof of concept. That its feasible.”

She sits back in her chair and crosses her arms—vindicated. Her lips twist as if she’s won the argument, but then she softens.

I’m still her sister, after all.

“Gwyn, I know. It’s okay, I just?—”

“You were right, but so was I. Roman was able to love someone like me. I just don’t deserve it anymore.”