“Maybe a little of both, yeah?”
“Maybe.” I rested my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes and inhaling his sweet, earthy scent. It calmed me, as always. “Where are the guys?”
“The demons are in the kitchen arguing over whose turn it is to make dinner and whose to wash dishes. Darius is downstairs keeping an eye on… our guest.”
Our guest.
I still couldn’t believe that little Fiona Brentwood—Feefs—was the vampire that had helped Jonathan. She’d been such a tiny, peripheral part of my life back then, I never could’ve imagined that one day she’d have the power to completely alter its course.
Yet she did alter it.
I closed my eyes, remembering all those times she trailed after Jonathan, her eyes full of hope. What if he’d paid more attention to her? What if they’d started dating instead of he and I? If only she’d gotten her wish… Maybe she never would’ve become a vampire. Maybe Sophie would still be alive. Maybe Jonathan would’ve been so focused on Fiona he never would’ve discovered that Calla and I were witches. Maybe Calla would still be alive, too.
If only. What if. Maybe.Three of the most dangerous phrases in the English language.
“So does our plan fall apart now that we know our bait is a teenaged girl?” I asked.
“Fall apart? No. But Fiona definitely changes things. Not because she’s a teenager, though. Or a girl, for that matter.”
“So what changed?”
“You tell me.”
Gazing into his deep, soulful eyes, I knew exactly what Emilio wanted me to say—that unlike the evil, traitorous vampire we’d envisioned, Fiona wasn’t some opportunistic bloodsucker looking to make a fast buck at the expense of witches. I may have stabbed her with a stake, but she was still a victim. If we used and manipulated her to our own ends, we’d be no better than the hunter who was holding the witches captive.
On some level, I understood that. I really did.
But whether she was coerced or not, Fiona still played a part in killing Sophie and the other witches in the Bay, and who knew how many others before that. No, maybe I didn’t want to see her tortured for it, and maybe I was starting to feel slightly guilty about staking her—okay, more than slightly—but I wasn’t ready to let her off the hook.
“So you believe her, then?” I asked, avoiding his question. “About why she went along with it, even after learning about his plans?”
Emilio held me in his gaze for a long time before he finally responded, and when he did, his voice was soft and sad. “People do all sorts of misguided things when they’re trying to protect the ones they love,querida. Let’s just say I know something about that.”
His eyes misted, and he looked away, suddenly fascinated by a blade of grass at his side.
I swallowed the tightness in my throat and reached for his hand, hooking my pinky around his.
Since Emilio had come back into my life after Sophie’s murder, he’d been so focused on helping us try to hunt down Jonathan and piece together this whole insane puzzle, I’d almost forgotten that it hadn’t always been this way. That he hadn’t always been here with me. That he’d had an entire life before I was evenborn, likely filled with love and heartache and sacrifice and pain. I saw it sometimes—the ghost of some old memory flickering through his big brown eyes—but I’d never found the right time to ask.
Maybe, like Asher, he just couldn’t talk about his past.
Maybe he felt like he had a lot to atone for, too.
Whether he was to blame or not, my heart ached when I thought about him suffering in silence. I had no idea what he’d been through, only that I wanted to ease his pain the way he’d so often eased mine.
I leaned in close and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, close to the corner of his mouth, my lips lingering just a beat too long.
When I finally pulled back, he was blushing.
“Not that I’m complaining,” he said, his lips curving in a shy smile, “but what was that for?”
“You’re a good man, Emilio Alvarez. I hope you know that.”
His smile faltered, but he didn’t say anything. Just put his hand on my back, strong and reassuring, the warmth of his touch spreading out across my skin.
I rested my head on his shoulder again, releasing a deep sigh. “Did anyone ever tell you you have a seriously calming effect on people? Especially crazy-ass witches?”
“No,mi brujita loca. Only you.” He laughed, but the moment was cut short by the emergency ringtone on his phone.
