Now he did look. Turned fully to face me, and the stage lights cast shadows across his features that made him look almost dangerous. "I don't know anything, yeobo," he said before he went back to work.
"What does that mean?" I asked him, distracted from our earlier conversation.
He glanced over at me as he leaned over to plug something in. "It means 'honey,' or something along those lines, although I guess it's probably considered a little old-fashioned now."
Right. Because he's who knows how old.
Because he's a vampire.
"You never said anything."
"There's nothing to say." He descended the stage steps, closing the distance between us with a deliberation that made my heart race.
"I'm supposed to have answers." The words burst out before I could stop them. "That's my role. I'm the one who's steady. Reliable. The one who helps everyone else figure things out while staying calm and centered and?—"
"Perfect?"
I flinched at the word. At how accurately it hit the mark.
Dae's thumb traced a gentle circle over my pulse point, and I realized he was touching me. That I'd let him touch me. "Nobody's perfect, Alice. Not even sweet, soft-spoken witches who wear rainbow colors and pretend everything's fine."
"I'm not pretending."
"Really?" His other hand came up, fingers ghosting along my jaw. Not quite touching. Just hovering there, waiting for permission I knew I shouldn't give. "Because from where I'm standing, you look like someone who's been holding themselves together too tight for too long, and they're about to shatter."
The accuracy of the observation stole my breath. Made my eyes burn with tears I refused to shed.
"Why do you care?" I whispered.
Something flashed across his expression. Pain, maybe. Or recognition. Since I didn't stop him, Dae's hand finally made contact with my face, cupping my jaw with surprising gentleness. "I don't."
I shook my head, leaning into the touch despite myself. "They look at Alex differently after what he did to save Kenya. After they saw the darkness in his magic. If they knew I had the same thing inside me..." The words spilled out, and I didn't know why I was telling him these things. But I couldn't seem to stop myself.
"They'd be afraid of you too."
"Yes."
The word broke on a sob I hadn't meant to release. And then somehow I was pressed against his chest, his strong arms wrapped around me, holding me together while I finally let myself fall apart.
Chapter 8
Elias
Two days.
Forty-eight hours since Talin had shown up at my bedroom door at four in the morning, her nose bleeding from pushing her power too hard, desperation in her green eyes.
Forty-eight hours since I'd touched her face and told her to stop thinking she wasn't enough.
Forty-eight hours since I'd sent her away.
Again.
I counted the bottles behind the bar for the sixth time that night. Twenty-three whiskeys. Fifteen vodkas. Eight rums. Twelve tequilas… The numbers never changed. The arrangement stayed perfect. Clean lines. Proper order. Everything in its designated place.
Everything except the fist hollowing out my chest.
The Purple Fang was empty, the last patron having stumbled out an hour before. Just me and the bottles and the silence that used to bring me peace. Now it only amplified the constant tug in the center of my chest, pulling me toward the Garden District. Toward the witch who'd been brave enough to come to me, to my fucking room, and I'd been too much of a coward to let her stay.
