‘I’ll sort it out.’ A muscle flexes in Michael’s jaw.
I want him to pull me into his arms, to kiss me and tell me it’s all right. But this muscled stranger, his grey eyes dark, seems miles from the gentle boy I thought I knew. I don’t understand what’s changed.
A short while later I’m in the shower, water swirling reddish-brown around my feet. The taste of violets still clings to my tongue, and I open my mouth under the flow, swishing and spitting several times. I’m not dizzy anymore but can’t stop shaking, despite the warm water.
Fuck. That was far too close. Another reason I’ll be better off at home. I don’t like thinking that way, but can’t deny I’m shaken. I turn off the shower, wrap myself in a fluffy towel and brush my teeth, twice. But it’ll be a while before I lose the memory of how Jessie’s skin gave way under my teeth. I spit and rinse, spit and rinse, trying not to think about the sound of her being torn apart.
Apart from everything else, I’m worried about Michael. Why was he late getting here? And how did he know to disable Jessie like that, or that I had to drink her blood? I rub mist from the mirror, pulling a comb through my damp hair. I’m paler than usual, dark circles under my eyes. Just like Laurel, when she comes back from work. The comb drops and I sob, bracing myself on the sink, sorrow rolling over me like a wave. I cough and hiccup, trying to hold in my grief, but can’t.
There’s a knock at the bathroom door.
‘It’s open,’ I gurgle.
The door opens. It’s Michael. His eyes widen when he sees me. I suppose I’m as naked as I’ve ever been around him. I can’t find it in myself to care. I reach out and he comes to me, folding me into a hug. I curl into his warmth. I know there are things we have to sort out, but I just need this moment. ‘Thank you,’ I mumble into his chest. His lips touch my hair, and I lift my head. He kisses me, finally.
But something still isn’t right. Aside from the whole dead-friend-in-the-kitchen and strange-vampire-creature-attacking-me situation, I mean. When I open my mouth to his, wanting to deepen things, more aware than ever that I’m only wearing a towel, he pulls back. His hand comes to my cheek, then drops to his side. Pain wars with something in his dark gaze. It looks like … regret.
My stomach lurches. ‘Michael?’ I watch his face, the beautiful lines of him, the long-lashed eyes, the sensual mouth I love to kiss. There’s no warmth when he looks at me. None at all.
‘When were you going to tell me what really happened to my father?’
ChapterEleven
PART OF MY WORLD
‘Wh-what?’ I lean on the sink, feeling sick.
‘My father? When were you going to tell me that your family executed him? That he was atraitor!’
My mouth opens and closes, but I can’t find the words. Images roll over me, of Mistral bound in spikes and metal, left alone on a frosted dawn. The way his eyes met mine, as I watched him burn.
Anger rises, cutting through the shock. ‘What was I supposed to say? It’s not the kind of thing you just bring up in conversation.’
Michael’s mouth tightens. ‘You should have told me.’ He growls the words. ‘He was myfather.’
‘I know. I’m sorry.’ He’s right. I should have told him, and I’m sorry I didn’t. But I cannot be sorry for his father’s death.
‘Sorry? Itrustedyou. Cared for you. I meant it, what I said on the beach. I’m with you, Emelia Raven. Or I was, anyway.’ He shakes his head.
‘I care for you, too!’ Fear shudders through me at his use of the past tense. ‘And I had my reasons!’ We stare at each other, both breathing hard, the bathroom feeling too small to contain the energy simmering between us.
‘Fuck!’ He turns away, bracing an arm against the wall. ‘When my brothers told me I?—’
‘Your brothers?’ I frown.
‘Yeah. They contacted me, yesterday. Told me what your family did to ours.’
Ours? Michael has never felt part of his family. But if that’s how he wants to play it… ‘What about whatyourfamily did to mine?’ I hiss. ‘The North Wind almostkilledmy father. Kidnapped me and would have killed me, if I hadn’t escaped.That’swho your father was. A liar and a monster, who couldn’t accept that my mother didn’t love him anymore. Jessie, that creature who just died in there—’ I point towards the living room ‘—she was like that because ofhim. Laurel is dead, because of him. I had tokillthe first boy I ever loved, because of him, and it almost destroyed me. So excuse me if I don’t feel bad about the fact he got to face the consequences of that!’
Michael doesn’t say anything for a moment, his throat moving. His dark gaze is unreadable. ‘Did you see it happen?’
I nod. ‘It was quick.’
He huffs out a small breath. ‘Raven mercy, I guess.’
‘There was nothing merciful about it.’ Mistral died a terrible death. I don’t have it in me to sugar-coat that.
‘I know what he did. Who he was. But I deserved to know, Emelia.’
