He’s not my friend; he’s enclave. And I told him I killed Roscoe.
They could come for me at any time.
With this many variables, I only know two things for sure: one, now is not the time for romance; and two, I’ve got to get back in fighting shape.
Even though Malach’s goons weren’t trying to hurtme, my stance with the sword felt unfamiliar. And my run with Luca a few weeks ago proved I’m not at the top of my game. Dancing has made me strong and agile, but I need to harden up. It’s been years since I took a punch. That’s got to change.
Luca stumbles into the bathroom. He yawns and kisses my neck, then drops his underwear and steps into the shower. I glance at his sculpted ass in the mirror and mentally smack myself. No more distractions, no matter how delicious.
“Do you know how to contact the owners of the Mouth of Hell?” I ask.
Luca pokes his head around the curtain, and I meet his narrowed hazel eyes in the mirror.
“Why?” he asks, his voice suspicious.
“Someone needs to tell them their beer is subpar,” I deadpan, propping my hip on the lip of the sink then rolling my eyes. “Because I want to fight. Why else?”
His head disappears behind the curtain again, and he sighs so loudly I hear it over the running water.
“Do you have something to say, Luca?”
The quiet is getting to me. He took Malach’s arrival in stride... hasn’t mentioned Alistair once... and reacted to Ciprian’s identity reveal as if it was the least interesting thing he’s ever heard. At first, I thought he was trying to give mespace to process my feelings without adding his own to the mix. Now I’m not sure.
“I don’t know the owners of the Mouth of Hell.” Luca finally answers my original question. I wait for him to say something else, but the silence is thick.
That’s it.Storming through the steam, I brew a cup of coffee, pour it into a silver, insulated tumbler, then stomp back to the bathroom. I shove the tumbler into the shower, avoiding the pounding spray, and wait until he takes it from my hand.
“Thanks,” Luca grunts, “but you forgot to detach the strings, baby.”
“Don’t fuck with me,” I snap. “I need you caffeinated.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re tiptoeing around me like I’m fragile or tyrannical, and I don’t know which is worse. Knock it off or I’m going to overreact.”
Luca snorts a laugh. “Okay, we can talk.”
“Good.” I pat the side of my head and wince when my hand comes away damp. “The steam is ruining my hair—I’ll wait for you in the bedroom.”
I get dressed, yanking on some stretchy clothes to work out in, and pile my hair on top of my head in a high, tight ponytail. It’ll give me a headache if I leave it this way all day, but it’s perfect for what I have in mind. By the time Luca strolls into the bedroom with a towel slung low around his hips, I’m more than ready to have this out.
He puts the tumbler down on my bedside table and eyes me warily. “You look like you want to fight.”
“And you look like you’re scared of that,” I retort, getting straight to the point. If Luca is afraid to be honest with me... We can call it now. A fun, sexy romp and nothing more.
“I won’t let you push me away, Celine.” Luca plants his hands on his hips, and a bead of water runs down the side of his neck. “Iwant to give you everything you want, but I won’t be your opponent.”
“I want you to say what you’re thinking,” I say. “Alistair and Ciprian do the calculating, but you?—”
“Are too stupid to be strategic?”
“I don’t think you’re stupid,” I insist, sinking down on the bed. “But I do count on you to tell it to me straight. Whenever you go silent, I get worried.”
He raises his eyebrows. “You want to know everything I’m thinking? About the last twenty-four hours?”
“Yes,” I say. “I need your opinions; I’m sick of mine.”
“Okay, baby, remember that you asked for this.” Luca begins to pace. “First, I think you should talk to Alistair. Give him a chance to apologize.”
