I know exactly what he wants to do. I gesture with my hand, indicating that that could be ‘later’, too, but I’m not about to let him put me off from this.
“Talk, Connor,” I grate out. “You never shut up. So talk. Now.”
Ugh. When it’s a while between speaking and going into a spell of quiet, I always sound rough when I use my voice again. I swallow, hoping that’ll help, and wait for Connor to respond.
He doesn’t. Not right away, at least. Instead, a fleeting expression dances across his handsome face, one of pure pride mingled with something else. And I get it. I do. Talking still feels so strange sometimes. Considering how vulnerable and exposed I feel when I do, I know I’ve pleased him whenever I speak out loud.
“Talk. Sure. Hi, Haven, my darling. Love you."
There’s no denying that anymore. Even so… I grumble, then snap his name. “Connor.”
You know what? That’s on me. I should’ve known better. When he gets like this, in such a teasing mood, it’s impossible to reason with him. There’s only one way to rip him out of it and get the sort of reaction I need out of him.
Pulling the knife away from his skin, I twist it, pointing it at my own throat.
Connor stills, his easy grin fading from his face. “Sweetheart.”
To be honest, I haven’t thought about killing myself once since Connor rescued me from the warehouse where I was meant to linger forgotten forever. Instead, I tried to killhim,and while even I have to admit my attempts were half-hearted, he’s safe from my murderous urges these days. Just like he has to know that I’m not going to slit my own throat… but it’s good to keep him on his toes.
I give him a daring look, saying without words that I’m serious, that there will be consequences if he continues to hide shit from me, and then I cut myself just enough to get his attention.
Connor sits up, lashing out his hand, wrapping his fingers around my wrist. He squeezes, and I drop the fucking knife. He scoops it up, bringing the knife to his mouth before licking the stray droplet of blood that oozed out onto the tip of it.
With my hands empty now, I cross my arms over my chest even as I stay straddling him. And then I wait.
He sighs, and I know I’ve won.
“Talk.” Connor’s sigh turns into a huff. “As if I can deny you anything, sweetheart. Fine. You want me to talk. I’ll talk.” A pause, and then, “What do you want to talk about?”
I give him a pointed stare. He knows. He has to know.
He does.
It takes a moment for him to actually say it. First, he leans up again, grabbing the knife he dropped to the mattress, tossing it to the floor. Only then does he take in another breath, exhaling roughly as he admits, “Desmond is dead.”
Oh.
I’m not the biggest fan of Desmond St. James. I know he was one of the Heirs when we were in school, and Connor tells me that he came along on the rescue mission when I was in the empty warehouse. He’s also the prick who all but forced Loni to date him senior year, then dumped her publicly in the cruelest way possible when it came out that she was having an affair with Adrian. The way I see it, Loni was already seeing Adrian secretly when she started going out with Desmond—because, as an Offering, she couldn’t think of a nice way to refuse him when he asked her on a date—so it was reallyDesmondwho was the side piece. Of course, he didn’t see it the same, and the way he treated her is partly to blame for Loni disappearing from Harmony Heights a decade ago.
In the last year, Connor’s distanced himself from Desmond. The other three Heirs—Adrian, Sebastien, and Dallas—stood by him as Connor took care of me, though he also began towithdraw from the society at the same time, but Desmond… he was too willing to put the Order before his friendship, and Connor let him.
Still, they were friends once, and my shaky voice comes out soft as I say, “I’m sorry, Connor.”
He holds up his hand. “Not done.”
Okay.
“Adrian killed him.”
Did I think I was stunned before? That’s nothing compared to now. I can’t even say the word. I just mouth it:
What?
He nods. “Yup. Pulled out his Tomcat right as Desmond’s wedding to an Offering was about to start at St. Catherine’s. Gave him three shots to the chest, and now the whole Order is calling it the ‘bloody wedding’.”
I can’t believe it. Adrian has always ruled shit from behind the scenes. He’s not an enforcer. That’s Dallas… so why wouldAdrianmurder Desmond during awedding? Atchurch? I know the high-ranking Owed often get away with murder, but that’s pushing it even for the King’s nephew.
I turn my questioning gaze on Connor.
