Without looking at Amelia, I suck in a deep breath and enter the courtyard. I’ve made it halfway across the cobblestone before Elliot startles. He turns to look at me, his face quickly flashing through a series of emotions. Surprise. Worry. Annoyance. Back to worry.
“Secora,” he says softly. He sweeps across the courtyard, and before I utter a word, he’s pulled me into a gentle hug. Despite the wound on my head, I rest against his chest, breathing in his warm scent.
He’s the first to pull away, and when I do the same, he’s not looking at me. His eyes are scanning the windows behind me. Without looking, I know Amelia is gone.
“I insisted,” I say before he can ask about it. “Amelia wanted me to rest, but I…I needed to see you.”
“I would have come to you,” he says. His attention is back on me now, his warm fingers brushing over my temples, down my neck. “You should be in bed.”
“I don’t remember what happened,” I say. A sudden, unprecedented thought pierces through my mind. “Did you…did you take them?”
Elliot’s lips twitch at this, turning into a gentle smile.
“No, I’m afraid I don’t share your talents for that,” he says.His fingers return to my head, carefully checking the bandage. “You took quite the hit. What’s the last you remember?”
“Going into the council building,” I say. My hands tremble as I press them against his collar. He’s wearing an unfamiliar black shirt with buttons. It’s not his, I realize. It’s one of the vampires, which means he didn’t have time to pack a bag. He should have before we even left that morning.
“Ahh,” he says. He crouches to inspect the bandage on my calf. “Well, you didn’t miss much then. You broke down Mama’s office door. Made quite the entrance.”
I don’t miss the way his voice cracks when speaking of Madam Lyrie. I need to ask what happened to her, but I don’t. Ican’t. My throat is clogged with too much emotion. I may not remember what happened in the council building, but this is all starting to feel eerily familiar.
Me causing issues in Elliot’s life.
Him killing someone to fix them.
“Elliot,” I say. Nothing more comes, just his name, hanging in the cool winter air.
“She gave me no choice,” he says. He tightens the bandage before looking up at me. The sun highlights every single color in his hazel eyes.
“I doubt that,” I whisper. Now it’s my voice cracking, but I can’t help it. I keep talking anyway, fighting the sharp knot in my throat. “It was me, wasn’t it? You killed her because of me.”
“No,” he says vehemently. “She tried to kill you, Secora. That washerchoice. That is why I killed her.”
Tears streak down my face, burning hot against the cold wind.
“Elliot—”
“She did not suffer,” he interrupts. His voice is hoarse as he rises back to his feet, cupping my face between his large warm hands. “It was fast. Like a heart attack.”
I swallow. My insides feel raw, as if they’ve been scraped with a rusted blade. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes. I only stare at Elliot, eyes burning and lips trembling.
“I had Henry clean it up,” he adds. “Aside from some of the wreckage, it shouldn’t have been difficult. I don’t think it’ll come back to me. If it does…”
I close my eyes. The simple movement makes my head spin, and I stumble over nothing. Elliot steadies me, bringing me closer.
“I love you, Secora,” he whispers against my temple. I’m in his arms before I’ve fully realized what’s happening. He cradles me to his chest and kisses the edge of my bandage. “I love you. Everything will be okay now.”
“I’m sorry,” I choke out. I’m still crying, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to stop. “I’m so?—”
“Shhh,” he whispers. “I’ve made peace with it.”
32
TWO MONTHS LATER
ELLIOT
“Fuck, you’re pretty like this.”
