The brothers washed up in the men’s room, eradicating all traces of demon blood. Then, with Isabelle’s help, they obliterated the devil’s traps, burned the corpses, and torched the interior with a magical fire no one would see from the outside until the place was nothing but ash.
A lot of trouble, perhaps, but better than the alternative—having Rogozin show up at Ravenswood, demanding answers Dorian had no intention of providing.
Back out on Sixty-First Street, the sun shone bright overhead, casting their trio in a wash of unforgiving light.
Dorian winced, immediately stepping back into the shadows. His eyes throbbed, his mind going hazy.
That the copious amounts of demon blood he’d ingested hadn’t been enough to stave off such sensitivity was surprising and concerning on its own. But worse?
Gabriel had shown the exact same response.
Dorian turned to him, eyes wide with surprise. Dorian had been experiencing similar symptoms for months, but it was the first evidence he’d seen that his brother was suffering a similar fate.
“Gabriel, are you—”
“All good.” Gabriel forced a smile, but his eyes still held an echo of pain. He reached into his shirt pocket for his sunglasses and quickly shoved them onto his face.
Dorian wanted to press the issue, but they were no longer alone. A woman strolled by on the sidewalk, her long black hair fluttering in the breeze. She flashed a warm, flirtatious smile at Gabriel, blood rushing to her cheeks.
“Hello, love,” Gabriel said smoothly, returning her smile.
She held his gaze another beat, but continued on her way.
“I can help,” Isabelle said when the woman had finally passed. She reached for his hands, just as she’d done with Dorian the night she’d recharged his magical tattoos, but Gabriel jerked away.
“I appreciate the offer, Isabelle, but I’m fine.” Then, turning his attention to the raven-haired beauty’s vanishing backside, he grinned and said, “Just a bit famished. Nothing I can’t fix with a quick…snack.”
“Gabriel,” Dorian said, “I don’t think—”
“Fear not, brother. I always ask nicely.” He clapped Dorian on the back, and then he was off, chasing after the woman with all the cockiness his heartbreakingly good looks afforded.
“I apologize,” Dorian said to Isabelle. “My brother is a bit touchy when it comes to witches. He’s never quite forgiven himself for needing them.”
“Please don’t apologize. Gabriel’s feelings toward me are merely a symptom of a much deeper issue.Issues, actually. He’s… got a lot of inner work to do.”
“I suppose you would know.” Dorian smiled, but a new wave of sadness rose inside him. Trying to hold on to a connection with his brother—even one brought about by something as dark and brutal as torture—felt like trying to hold on to the wind itself.
As for the torture…
Dorian sighed. He had no love for demons, and he’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant protecting the people he cared about.
But out here in the bright, beautiful afternoon, surrounded by the rush of cars and pizza delivery bicycles and parents pushing strollers into their favorite shops and bakeries, his stomach churned nevertheless.
“Isabelle, what happened in there…” Dorian shook his head, shame heating his skin. “I don’t know how much you saw or heard, but I—”
She held up a hand, cutting him off. “It’s not my place to judge, Dorian. I said I’d have your back, and I meant it. But if we’re going to continue working together, I’m afraid I do haveonecondition.”
Dorian closed his eyes, already knowing what she was going to say.
Knowing he’d hate it.
Knowing she was absolutely right.
“Is this the part where I beg you for a sugar-covered shitcake and we pretend everything’s all right?” he asked.
“No, Dorian.” She took his hands, imploring him with her wise, penetrating gaze. “This is the part where you go home and tell the woman you love the truth about her soul.”
Chapter Six
