* * *
That night, these were the things I knew about Ronan:
I knew he’d taken care of me when I had no one else—that he was taking care of me still.
I knew I would go to hell and back for him, and he’d do the same for me.
And I knew that other than Sophie, he was the only person I trusted with my life.
Didn’t mean we knew each other’s secrets.
I stole a glance at him as we walked down Denton Street, wishing I could read him the way Sophie could read me. I studied the sharp planes of his face, the purposeful stride of his steps, the hunch of his shoulders beneath his fitted black peacoat. His eyes were hidden in shadow, just like his thoughts.
I’d never worked up the courage to ask about his origins, and he’d never offered to tell. It was one of those things we just didn’t talk about, like where he went when he disappeared for days at a time, and what my life was like before I came to Blackmoon Bay, and what the hell had been going on between us lately.
Over the years we’d developed an unspoken understanding: some things were just better left unsaid.
“So,” he said now, “You gonna tell me why the fuck you made a blood deal with Beaumont?”
Ten
Ronan
I wasn't sure whether it was the cold air or my question, but as we cut through an open-ended alley toward her neighborhood, Gray sobered up pretty damn quick.
“It’s nothing.” She rubbed the skin on her wrist, the exact spot where the vamp had stuck in his pointy little fangs. “He’s helping me with something.”
Helping himself, more like it.
I shook my head, trying to put my anger on ice. Beaumont wouldn’t do anything to hurt her—I knew that. He also wouldn’t let her take a blood oath unless something serious had gone down.
My gut clenched.
“Helping you with what?” I pressed.
Gray shrugged, looking up at me just as we passed under a streetlight. The yellow glow overhead threw a harsh spotlight on the shiner under her eye.
Fucking hell.
I jammed my hands in my pockets, fighting the urge to touch her face.
To kiss her.
“It doesn't matter,” she said.
“Does to me.”
“Why?”
I lifted a shoulder. “I just want to know.”
”Well, newsflash, Ronan. I'm not a book you can crack open and flip through whenever you feel like it.” Gray pushed past me and charged ahead, arms folded stiffly across her chest. Half a block down, she spun around and charged back at me, fire in her eyes. “I don't have to tell you shit, Ronan Vacarro.”
“But I—”
“No buts.” She jabbed me in the chest. “You disappear for days without so much as a text message, then you show up out of nowhere, tracking me down and demanding answers like a jealous boyfriend? I don’t think so."
“Jealous? Of a bloodsucker? Come on, Gray. Give me a little credit.”
