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Shay never cried—she’d said it herself. Whether those tears were for him, the sister she hadn’t found, or the mother caging her, he didn’t know, but it didn’t matter.
It still chewed him the fuck apart inside.
Shay couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried.
She sat in the back of Athene’s car, her face wet. The tears had stopped, but she could feel them threatening to come again.
Possibly the worst part about them was understanding why they were happening. Was it because her mother had found her and was dragging her back to the Riptide? Was it because she still hadn’t found Anna?
Or was it because of Roman? The look on his face when Athene had dragged her toward the car… That was pure, undiluted rage. No matter how long she lived, Shay would never forget that look.
It was the first time anyone other than Anna and their late father had fought for her. The first time anyone had cared enough to react the way Roman just did.
“You are never to see that boy again.” Athene’s cold voice cut into the car that reeked of floral perfume. She looked straight ahead, her eyes shielded by round sunglasses. Shay didn’t bother pointing out that Roman was twenty-seven years old and the farthest thing from a boy. But when you could live forever, some parents tended to treat their offspring like children well into adulthood. “Shay? Do you understand me?”
Shay stared out her window. The backs of her eyes were burning, and another migraine was creeping in.
Athene’s aura prickled like a storm cloud bursting with lightning. “You are never to look at, speak to, or sleep with Roman Devlin again. Am I being clear?”
“You’re being unreasonable.”
“Did you sleep with him?”
“No.” It wasn’t a lie.
“If I find out you’re lying to me, there will be hell to pay.”
Shay clenched her teeth. “Maybe, if you had been looking for Anna yourself, I wouldn’t have felt the need to ask for a Shadowmaster’s help.”
“If you were the daughter I deserve, you would’ve trusted and listened to me.”
“I’ll never be the daughter you deserve—that was Anna. And you don’t even care that she’s missing—”
“Enough!” Athene’s voice was so loud, it cracked. “I’ve heard enough, Shayla! You’re coming back to the Riptide and you’re staying there. No more sneaking away, no more ridiculous galavants in the desert.” She turned in her seat to glare at her through her sunglasses. “And no. More. Roman. Devlin.” Her mouth was pinched, her pulse fluttering angrily in her neck.
She turned back around and flicked on the radio.
The rest of the car ride was quiet, aside from her mother’s horrid taste in music, but Shay’s mind was loud. Inside, she was screaming, as she had her whole life, only this time the screaming was different.
Instead of animalistic shouts and the rattling of bars no one but her could see, she was shouting out a name.
It was Roman’s.
59
Roman’s House
YVESWICH, STATE OF KER
A shiver wracked Loren’s body as she slowly lowered herself into the indoor swimming pool at Roman’s house.
She wore a white one-piece bathing suit with peek-a-boo designs cut into the ribs. Darien had bought her the suit from a small surf shop in the Financial District; the new material smelled of all the sunscreen and coconut tanning lotion on their shelves. It reminded Loren of the summers she’d spent at the beaches in Angelthene with Dallas and Sabrine.
She missed them terribly.
“How are you feeling?” Darien’s bass voice echoed in the cavernous room. He stood by the side of the pool, arms crossed over his broad chest, feet braced apart. He wore a black long-sleeve and black jeans, combat boots still on.
She sank in until the water lapped against her breasts. “Would be a bit better if it wasn’t so cold.” Her teeth chattered.
