Page 7

ROMAN

“So you’re positive you’re not related to her?” Nico asks, and even Margot darts a glance at me, able to sense my fury. “I know you said that?—”

“If I said it, I know it. Agnarr turned Bjorn during a battle. They’re not goddamn related. Ask me again, and this glass will find itself embedded in your skull.”

“But how do you know they weren’t related before Agnarr turned him?

” Nico prods, and the amusement in his voice grates on me.

I’m not sure if he’s asking to piss me off or if he finds my situation amusing, but I’m about to order him to have a picnic on some train tracks.

I’m contemplating how to word the demand for maximum efficacy when Margot responds.

She doesn’t look away from the screen, and she sounds bored.

“Bjorn’s father, Eric, was an emissary for the King of Norway when he was trying to claim Iceland as his.

Eric and his Norwegian wife stayed in Iceland, and baby Bjorn was born.

” She snorts, and repeats the line a few times.

“Baby Bjorn was born. Baby Bjorn was born.” I clear my throat, and she gets back on topic.

“This all happened like two hundred years after Agnarr was Made. Leave him alone, Nico.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to make sure?—”

“I’m in,” Margot declares like it’s some kind of triumph, and I suppose it is, because Nico shuts the fuck up about potential incest. I didn’t think it could be any worse, but if I somehow managed to fuck my cousin, I might just set myself on fire.

“I don’t understand how she fell for that. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“You think she fell for it or you think she’s playing you?

” Nico asks, and I throw back the remainder of my drink.

It’s the only thing I can do to stifle the ache in my chest. Emile started tugging on our bond a day or so ago, and it’s finally grown to an unbearable pain.

To withstand it, a baseline buzz is necessary.

Otherwise, I’d be fighting the rest of my coven to get out of the compound.

It may still get to that point.

“I mean, I guess Sasha could be playing us, but she’s standing outside at the corner right now.

” She points to the screen with a grid of security cameras, and I squint, unable to identify the two figures.

Since Margot showed me Remy’s picture an hour ago, I’ve drunk enough to kill a human, and I’m finally starting to feel it.

When Margot angles the other monitor to face me and Nico, I see the blinking circle on the map, positioned at the same corner.

“Listen. She’s not going to let a billing issue keep her from her Rihanna panties. She’s just not.”

“Rihanna panties?” Nico asks, and Margot waves him off. Her ponytail swings, making me a little dizzy.

“They’re really good panties. Roman, you’re from this century. Do you know what a phishing scam is?”

I simply stare at her, not even attempting to hide my disinterest. “Another one,” I say to whoever will listen, and Nico obliges me. He swipes my glass before he heads out of the room and into Margot’s kitchen.

“Basically, I sent her a text that made her think?—”

“Just find Remy. Don’t fuck it up this time.”

I sit back in the chair she’d dragged from her living room into the cyber security second-bedroom-turned-office.

She’s probably pouting, but I don’t know and don’t care as I tilt my head back and close my eyes.

All I can do is focus on breathing while Emile’s command tears my fucking insides apart.

If Gwyn’s goal is to kill me before I ever get to see Remy again, she’ll probably succeed.

By not allowing me to leave the compound, the blood oath is going to boil my heart inside my chest. And it’s her fucking fault.

The only reason I swore an oath to Emile to begin with was so I could see her again.

I’ll see her bleed out, of that I’m sure.

“Asshole,” Margot whispers, and Nico laughs as he comes back into the room.

“You’re surprised by this?” he asks as he presses another drink into my hands.

Despite the destruction to the coven and Gwyn’s betrayal, there’s a lightness to my friends since we found out my brother is still alive.

I wish I could share that same optimism, but until Remy is out of danger, I can’t allow it.

I swallow half of the drink in one gulp before I sputter and choke on it.

“You fucking gave me gin?” I demand, barely able to speak. Spittle goes flying, and I throw the tumbler at the wall over his head.

“Watch it!” comes Margot’s cry, but I don’t give a fuck.

“You think I want to deep throat a fucking tree as I die? You think I want my last drink to taste like Christmas?”

“Jesus, dude. Just say you don’t like gin!” Margot yells while Nico picks up the glass shards.

“Leave it alone,” he murmurs at Margot who is somehow still yelling at me, and his gentle tone sets me off. I stumble to my feet, surprised by just how unsteady I am. I guess I drank more than I thought. Perhaps enough to kill two humans.

“I don’t like any of this,” I sneer. “I don’t like that I’m here, in the same place I was six months ago, waiting for Margot to find my little brother.”

“Sit down, Roman. You’re?—”

“And I don’t like that I’m stuck here in this goddamn compound and it’s not even because of Bjorn. It’s because of her .”

“Yes, yes, we know. Poor Roman. His girlfriend is a bitch,” Nico says, and I punch him in the jaw. He drops the broken glass, and only stares at me with an impassive expression. I’m bigger than him—and stronger—but he doesn’t cower. It pisses me the fuck off.

“You think this is funny, asshole?”

“Funny isn’t the right word. Interesting, perhaps? You know I hated those sniveling cunts, always volunteering to kiss Bjorn’s feet. Not much of a loss, in my opinion. You’re only upset that the girl you love outsmarted you.”

“ Loved ,” I growl, shoving Nico against the wall.

“He’s right,” Margot says. She’s shutting down her computer and grabbing her laptop. “The way you feel for Gwyn doesn’t just?—”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll leave Nico’s head here as a little treat for you to find in the morning.”

“I’m going to my room,” she says, turning off the overhead light as she leaves. “You really ought to get some sleep. I know you haven’t been able to.”

“Yeah, no shit,” I say, but I don’t comment on it any further.

Of course I haven’t been sleeping. Every fucking night, I stay up, drinking to numb the ache and forget Gwyn’s fucking face.

But instead, I find myself bombarded with images of the last few weeks, and all I can do is analyze each and every moment with her.

Separating the truth from the lies, the evidence from the omissions, and what I thought we had from the harsh reality of what things are, is a maddening task, and yet my mind forces the issue every time I close my eyes.

I let go of Nico, stumbling as I step back. Rubbing a hand over my face, I sigh. “I’m fucking powerless here. I’ve only traded a leash for a muzzle.”

“Margot’s right. That kind of love doesn’t just go?—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“No, you shut the fuck up,” he says, pulling himself up to his full height. Nico isn’t short, but I still have a solid few inches on him. He isn’t weak though, even if he does remind me of a bird fluffing its feathers as he puffs out his chest. “It goes both ways. We all saw it.”

“She’s a fucking liar.”

“Sure, but she’s a liar who’s in love with you. Use it ,” he says. Nico straightens his t-shirt—white and skin-tight. Vain motherfucker.

“She had a thousand chances to tell me Remy was alive, and she chose not to. I don’t know what the fuck you think I’m capable of.”

“Gwyn has everything. Vengeance, control of our coven, Bjorn’s fucking bloodsworns. She has everything she could ever want—except you .”

I swear and begin to pace. “I don’t fucking want her. Not unless it’s to rip out her heart.”

“You’re telling me you can’t lie too?”

“No,” I murmur. “No, I’m not saying that.”

Because despite everything, I do still want her. I want to hear her beg. I want to hear her cry. I want to feel that lush body one last time. I want to fuck her senseless as I watch the light leave her eyes.

Maybe Nico is right.

“We need to come up with a plan.”

When I open the rooftop access door, a gust of winter air slams into my lungs, and I nearly stumble backward.

Taking a swig of whiskey from my flask to warm myself, I rub my chest. Emile’s grasp is still tight behind my sternum, and I consider jumping from the rooftop to escape Gwyn’s clutches.

Quickly, I dismiss the idea. It wouldn’t kill me, but it would hurt like a motherfucker.

Someone would see it, and there would be some sort of investigation, and I just don’t feel like compelling people tonight.

Although, perhaps I would never come back.

Maybe Emile would choose to abandon our coven and force me to join with Ketill out west. Fuck.

The idea of being forced to move to fucking California has me reaching for a cigarette.

I swear when I realize I left my lighter in Margot’s apartment.

Ketill’s desire to live in a state known for its sunny nature doesn’t make any sense to me.

Although, I suppose if he’s Slumbering, it doesn’t matter.