“He cannot control you.”
I mean it as a compliment, an acknowledgment of her strength, but her brown eyes flash with rage. “And I’ve paid for it a thousand times over.” She gulps the wine, consuming half the glass at once. “I know why you’re here, Malach.”
“For you, My Truth.”
“Maybe,” she whispers. “But the timing, your calculated scheming; it’s too exact. You want me to go back. I won’t do it.”
My stomach flips. I glance away from her and focus on the counter. There’s a single crumb on the surface. Luca wiped it down after making the food, but this piece escaped him, hiding among the faux stone patterns.
A million responses come to mind. I hold them all in. Instead of speaking, I incline my head in acceptance, feeling both awkward and anxious in her space. Our separation has made us strangers. The lone crumb and I are the same—the only two things out of place in Celine’s home.
“You’re disappointed in me,” she says. “I see it on your face.”
“Never,” I insist, sweeping the crumb into the trash and facing her again. “No matter how much I burn to bring our people justice, you are my priority. You always have been.”
Celine breaks our eye contact this time and examines her plate. “That’s not easier to hear,” she says. My insides tremble as her wingtips drag against the tile.
“Things will look better in the morning,” Luca says, putting his hand on her shoulder.
Celine huffs a laugh, but it’s angry and strained, a wire pulled too tight. “Do you believe that?”
“Sure.” He smiles softly. “Because you’ll be well-rested and we’ll have coffee.”
She tries to return his smile. Her lips twist instead. Celine covers her eyes, but not before I see how glassy and bloodshot they are. Luca pulls her into his chest. Jealousy burns inside me.
Celine clears her throat and drops her hand from her face. “I’ll show you to the spare room, Malach.”
“I know where it is,” I admit.
“Right.” She shakes her head. “Of course you do, because you broke into my apartment and made a huge mess. How could I forget? Once I’ve had some sleep, we’re going to talk more about that. You painted my fucking walls, Malach—that’s over the line.”
I hide a smile, relieved to see her angry instead of sad. “It worked, didn’t it?”
“And knocking on the front door wasn’t an option?”
“Anonymity ran its course, but it was the optimal move at the time.”
She gestures for me to follow her into the small guest room, stiffening as she looks at the strange bed-like contraption. The covers are neatly tucked, and it smells strongly of demon. An unzipped suitcase sits open in the corner.
“I’ll get clean sheets.” Celine brushes past me and marches down the hall.
Luca glances through the door. His eyes land on the suitcase, and he bites his lip. “She’s bruised.”
“I see that,” I admit, keeping my tone neutral. “I’ll tread lightly.”
He takes in my thick leather boots, raises his eyebrows, then trails his dangerous gaze up my body before shaking his head. “Something tells me that’ll be tough for you.”
He leaves before I can tell him to keep his opinions to himself. I’ve not found him worthy of my Celine yet. Until I do, this uneasy truce between us is the best I can do.
THREE
Unspoken rule of the Fringes #65:
Pain is a bite that never ends. Interrupt it before it chews you up and spits you out.
ALISTAIR
Moving from shadow to shadow, I search the streets, my fangs throbbing.
