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He’ll have to wait.
Thus…they’re fighting.
“Going for a walk,” Gunnar announces as he walks from the hallway, voice tight, like his throat’s been scrubbed with sandpaper. The door slams behind him, leaving its echo to hang in the air between us. Aisling doesn’t follow him, but I can hear her crying—and I’m going to go ask if she’s okay when I hear the bedroom door open. There’s a brief exchange of words, the scent of steam from the shower.
Cassie comes out.
The door shuts again, locking Aisling away.
Yeah…she’s going through it.
Cassie comes out wearing some of Aisling’s clothes, blonde hair wet from the shower. She looks better than she did when we pulled her out of Nero’s mansion, but still rough—too thin, dark circles under her eyes, pale. She looks from me to the entrance to the hallway, her brow furrowed.
“Everything okay?” Her words are tentative, probing the quiet space with care.
“Fine,” I grumble, dismissing the lie as soon as it leaves my lips. “Aisling’s taking some time.”
The click of a lock sounds off like a shot. Aisling’s made her move, barricading herself in the bedroom.
“Come on—you should sit,” I say, motioning toward the couch. It’s an island in a sea of uncertainty, and right now, it’s all I have to offer.
She nods, slipping onto the cushion like she’s afraid it might vanish beneath her. I take the seat opposite, giving her space yet keeping close. Close enough to reach out if the shadows get too heavy, if they start whispering fears about being hunted, about never really escaping.
“I don’t know if I want to sit,” she murmurs. “I’m still…antsy.”
I nod. “Yeah…that won’t go away for a bit. Tea will help, though. And food. You picky at all?”
“I’ll take whatever you’ve got,” she says.
I move around the kitchen, searching for the box of tea I know is hidden behind less comforting beverages. It’s a mundane task, but it anchors me, the kettle rattling when I start the heat up again. The pot boiled before, but it’s gone cold now, forgotten while me and Gunnar talked to Aisling. The kettle whistles its readiness in no time, steam rising like a ghost from the spout. I pour the hot water over the teabag in a mug that’s seen better days, then carry it to where Cassie sits, swimming in an oversized hoodie, a blanket over her lap.
“Here,” I say, offering the warmth to her chilled hands. “It’s not much, but it’s something.”
She accepts the mug with a nod, cradling it between her palms. Her eyes lift to mine, holding a storm of worry.
“What happens now? With the Angels, I mean. I’m not exactly…” She hesitates, as if saying the words might make them realer. “I’m officially off-grid.”
“Well…I guess we get you back to Roman, then he wants to get you out of the city,” I say. “You’re only here because, with the drugs…”
“It was too hard for him, wasn’t it?” she says quietly. “God, I’m so ashamed. He’s been so kind to me, and I used him.”
“You didn’t use him,” I shake my head.
“My heat, though—“
“This isn’t on you,” I say. “Look, Cassie…I was on eros and I did something so much worse than the suggestion of seduction. I…”
I pause, frowning as I parse through my actions. I’ve had a lot of guilt over it and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to reconcile myself with that.
“I attacked Gunnar,” I say. “I stole Aisling. And she…she forgave me. Roman doesn’t see your actions as a problem to blame you for. He knows you weren’t responsible. You just need to forgive yourself.”
“Yeah,” she murmurs, lips curling around the rim of the mug before taking a cautious sip.
“Detoxing from eros was a bitch,” I confess. The rawness of the experience still lingers. “You feel like you’re on fire, every nerve ending screaming for relief. And then nothing but ache when it doesn’t come.”
Cassie’s gaze locks with mine, a silent understanding passing between us.
“And then one day…it’s like waking up from a nightmare,” I continue. “You’re sweaty, disoriented—but you’re free.”
