His head snapped to the side, and he cradled his cheek with his palm. “I deserve that. I’m sorry. I’m not allowed to break character.”
“Then what do you call this?” She gestured at the space around them. They were in that stupid unending library of his. The brighter, pleasant version. Not the creepy, dark and unsettling version of it she’d seen when Virtue had taken her to Vile’s “half” of the library.
“A dream.” He was still frowning when he turned his attention back to her. “Here, this is excusable as…a hallucination. A product of too much opium and alcohol.”
“Neither of which I actually did!” Tears stung her eyes. Wiping at themfiercely, she stormed away from him ten paces before dropping her head in her hands. “At least my knee doesn’t fucking hurt right now.”
His voice was close to her again when he spoke, though this time he didn’t touch her. “Why did you kiss Sherlock Holmes?”
“I wasn’t kissing him.” She wiped her eyes again, sniffling. Christ, she hated crying. It was always so pointless. “I needed to feel safe. To feel—I don’t know. Connected. To someone.”
“You were kissing anyone, then.” The hurt in his voice was thick.
“No. I…” She was mad at him. Furious. But he was the good guy, right? He was playing by the stupid rules. It wasn’t his fault he had to stay in character. “That’s not it. That’s not it at all.”
She’d kissed him for a lot of reasons. Desperation. Loneliness. Panic. Attraction. Need. Maybe even a little jealousy over her sister’s kiss.
But it hadn’t been Sherlock she had been trying to kiss. It’d been Virtue.
“I was trying to kiss you, but I—the reasons why are a mess, and I—I’m just…I’m so scared.” Wincing, she felt like a moron. She felt disgusting. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair to you, I just?—”
“I understand.” His hand settled on her shoulder again as he gently turned her around to face him. As she let him slowly pivot her around, he pulled her into an embrace. Christ, he smelled like summers. Like laughing with friends. Like warm nights by a fire. Like safety. Likehome.Like all the things she needed.
Clutching him close, she buried her head into the lapel of his white suit and let him comfort her. “I want to go home…”
“I know. And I wish I could bring you there. I do. I truly do.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“For now? Nothing. Your sister and Vile are taking the lead on this one…until they make a move, we can’t do much except wait to see what horrid scheme they come up with. Sherlock can’t solve crimes that haven’t been committed.” He tucked her head beneath his chin and held her closer, squeezing her ever so slightly.
She felt the tension melt from her limbs. “I want to find a way to talk to Sasha. Together, maybe, we can come up with a plan.”
“If you want to do that, you’ll have to find a way that makes sense in the plot. I can’t act out of character, and you shouldn’t either. Otherwise, Vile might get…upset. If it looks like we aren’t playing by the rules. This is dangerous enough.”
“What do you mean?” Lifting her head, she looked up at him, brow furrowed.
“He can see everything that happens. The same that I can.” He gestured at the world around them. “All this is an open book to him.”
“So he knows—” She stammered. “And that means?—”
“And I know what he’s up to, yes.” Virtue shrugged. “But we can’t act on it during the course of the story.”
“Why not? You know where they are! What they’re doing! You could just—just—change everything?—”
Virtue’s face fell and he sighed.“You have to remember, Sidney, I’m not…like you. I’m not really a person, deep down.” He picked up her hands and held them together in front of his chest. Bowing his head, he kissed her curled fingers. “I am a product of the stories you tell. And when I’m inside of one of those stories…that is all I am.”
With everything in her body she wanted to weep and collapse at his feet and simply beg him to take her home until he did. To wail and scream and cry until he had to give in. But she knew it’d be pointless. She could do that for centuries and it’d do no good. Vile had mentioned the people who came before them and their terrible fates.
“I don’t want to die.” The words left her in little more than a whisper.
“Then we should work very hard to get you and your sister home before that happens.” He smiled at her, clearly trying to give her any sense of hope that he could. “I know how frightening this is. How alone you feel. But I’m right here with you, even if it doesn’t seem like I am.”
Nodding weakly, she let out a breath. “I just?—”
It was his turn to end the conversation abruptly.
Placing a hand at the back of her neck, he pulled her in and kissed her. It wasn’t as roughly as she had kissed him, not even by half. But it was no less insistent. And she nearly collapsed into his arms at the sensation of it.
