Jerking off into her panties after I’d watched another man fuck her into oblivion was beyond pathetic.
But it was all I had.
There was a time when I enjoyed fantasizing about my little sparrow, even when it hurt.
Now, it did more than hurt. It carved the Haley-shaped hole in my chest deeper, bigger.
It fucking gutted me.
I tossed the spent panties in the trash and showered off the rest of my release, but until they made a soap to get rid of guilt and self-loathing, I was stuck with that shit. It burned through me like fire.
But for now, I needed to lock it all down.
The Feast of the Beast was in three days. We’d planned to attend together, but that was no longer an option. I needed to do some recon on the castle, see if I could identify all the possible points of failure ahead of time—before the only people in the world I gave a fuck about risked their lives walking into a death trap.
And I still had to figure out how the fuck I was going to kill Keradoc. For all our arguing about plans and timing and wardrobe choices, the assassination was a detail I still hadn’t been able to wrap my head around. It would have to wait until after Haley got the blood she needed but before anyone figured out who we were, and that wouldn’t give me much time to maneuver if things went sideways.
I needed to think. And I couldn’t fucking do it with Jax banging my woman into a wall every night, the sounds of her pleasure floating on the air like all the ghosts I was still trying to outrun.
Gem’s place was the only safe haven now. No fucking demons. No exes. No ghosts. Besides, she’d been on a need-to-know basis since our arrival in Midnight, and the time was finally here. She needed to know.
Showered and dressed, I scrawled out a hasty note, telling Jax I had some things to wrap up and would meet them inside the castle in three days.
Then I drew my hood low over my eyes, shouldered my pack, and headed out into the perpetually dark streets of the Hollow, half hoping someone would leap out of the shadows and stake me before I reached my destination.
35
HALEY
It’s okay, babygirl. I got you.
Though Hudson hadn’t uttered another word since the night I’d fallen apart in his arms, those were the words that gave me strength now, as Jax and I stepped through the polished obsidian doors of Keradoc’s castle.
Our gargoyle was covering the exterior in his winged warrior form, keeping watch from the stone turrets. Jax would have my back on the inside in case anything went south.
But Elian?
None of us had seen him since that intense night in my bedroom.
Jax told me he’d left a note—that he was working closely with Gem to ensure everything was set up for us tonight, leaving nothing to chance. That I shouldn’t fret. That Elian would show up, no matter what had happened—orhadn’thappened—between us.
But a fissure of worry had opened up in my chest all the same.
“Haley.” Jax tightened his grip on my elbow and leaned in close, brushing a kiss to my temple. “He’ll be here, angel.”
I nodded and smiled because I wanted to believe him. Also, because he was wearing a fitted tux that made him even more drool-worthy than usual, even though he’d outright refused to let me bedazzle his eye patch.
But as we made our way into the castle’s main parlor, a deep dread settled into my stomach. Not necessarily about Elian, though his absence certainly didn’t help; I hated how we’d left things that night—how he’d turned his back and walked out.
Still. Personal issues aside, tonight was the most important night of my life. Of my sisters’ lives, though they had no idea any of this was even happening. I tried to imagine them at home now, practicing their magick and keeping one another company. Getting together for dinner or drinks or just to chat.
Living their lives—lives I would do everything in my power to protect.
Even if it killed me.
The parlor was a mass of sweaty, filthy bodies—fae, demon, vampire, human, witch—all of them crushed together, elbows and punches flying as they jockeyed for a closer spot at the buffet tables and open bars. They were dancing, too; whoops of laughter and catcalls rang out above a cacophony of discordant music—some kind of dark techno that thumped through my bones. The whole thing reminded me of a frat party, completely off the rails, and if someone busted out a beer pong table or announced a wet T-shirt contest, it wouldn’t have surprised me in the slightest.
But once we got through the public party and over to the sleek winding staircase that would take us up to the exclusive level, everything changed.
