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One day, the three of them will forget my face, but I will never forget theirs.
“You’ve gone quiet, Thalia,” Drystan whispers, his finger curling beneath my chin, tilting my face toward him. I keep my eyes averted, not wanting to give myself away with the heat rushing up my cheeks.
“It’s nothing,” I tell him, fingering the comforter in my hand. The weight of his gaze presses against me as silence fills the air around us. He’s comforting me now, but why? When all he’s made me feel is like a toy to be discarded when they’re done.
“It’s not nothing if it causes you to pause,” he tells me, turning onto his back and drawing me into his side. My body tenses, waiting, but all he does is hold me to him, his chin resting at the top of my head.
His body is solid and cool, but the warmth of the blanket helps to offset his less-than-ideal body temperature. Even then, it’s not like he’s that cold. Just a bit…drafty.
How do I tell him what I’m feeling? That the three of them cause my pussy to spasm and my mind to dip into the desire pond like a freshman college girl at her first Magic Mike show. Or that I have to check myself for drool at the same time I want to stab them with a pitchfork because they’re holding me captive. Honestly, it’s a scale’s balance.
Hate versus please make me orgasm again, thank you.
“Why do you care?” I ask. “You’ve made it very clear what I am to you.”
Drystan sighs, drawing a hand down his face. He looks tired and worn.
“Look, I know…” Growling, he lets go of me and reaches to pick up the phone. “What?” He scowls as the person on the other line practically screams. It’s a woman, and she sounds angry. Is it the mysterious Irena?
“I’ll take care of it,” he snaps. “Don’t worry. No, I’m not doing anything important right now.”
I flinch, something piercing my chest a little too deep.
Nothing important.
Story of my life. Title of my memoir. Carved in bold letters on my tombstone.
Without a word, I roll out of bed and make my way toward the bathroom. Drystan stands, grabbing my arm with lightning-fast speed. It nearly knocks the wind out of me, how fast he moves. It’s disturbing and awe-inspiring all at once.
“We’re not done here.” He stares down at me, his brow wrinkled as if he’s truly bothered that I left the bed.
“It sounds like you have something to take care of.” I keep my voice flat, like I’m not bothered that he must go, even if, just a few moments ago, I would have hated it. I felt warm in his embrace. Safe. Until he reminded me of exactly what I was to him.
Again.
“It’s just a coworker needing help,” he says, but something in his gaze tells me it’s more than that.
I smile up at him, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. “Don’t worry,” I assure him, pulling my arm from his grip. I turn back toward the bathroom. “Go. It’s not like you are doing anything important anyway.”
Shutting the door to the bathroom, I think I hear him say my name, but it’s too late. I’m tired of the back-and-forth. The mood swings.
Why can’t I be more than nothing to just one person?
Am I that hard to love?
Chapter 25
Asher
“Again.” My voice echoes across the training field as I prepare the volunteers for the upcoming Elysium fights. Most of them have been training with me since they were foundlings, newborn vampires. They’re used to my tactics and rigorous schedule.
Irena is not.
My clan sister has been struggling to keep up with the hard training sessions for the last few days. Sessions that have kept me away from my petite tentatrice. It nearly killed me when I was unable to rush to her side last night when she was crying out in her dreams. I could taste her fear in the air, its bitterness coating me like being buried alive.
Weylen is off gathering intel on our latest shipment of agrodolce, but even he felt the disturbance. A line of fate that is utterly disturbing. We shouldn’t be able to feel her like this, but somehow, all three of us can sense some of her most potent emotions.
Including the disappointment and sadness that’s emanating off her in waves of heat at the height of a Texas summer. Drystan was the one to go to her last night, and then again, I sensed him with her this morning. Sometime in the night, he went back to her room and never left. Not until now. A feral part of me rears its head like a demon at the thought of him causing her sadness. It makes me want to rush across the lawn to the patio, where he’s standing now, and rip his throat out with my teeth.
