Kalo. Of course it was Kalo.
She didn’t turn around. “Go away.”
“I need to apologize.”
That made her stop. Kalo Lohti apologizing was about as common as vampires volunteering for sunrise walks. She turned slowly to find him standing a few feet away, his silver eyes uncharacteristically serious.
She laughed. “For what part? For ensuring I’d never be respected by what remains of the Iltanis? Or for dragging my uncertain marriage with Raziel out into public?”
He had the grace to wince. “For none of it and all of it. That you’re in pain, really.”
“Pain.” She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
“What do you want me to say, Nadi?” For once, the arrogance was gone from his voice. “That I’m sorry I wasn’t there when the Nostroms came? I am. That I didn’t pointlessly die next to the rest of your family? That I’m sorry you had to become…thisto survive? I am. But I’m not sorry for what I said.”
She shut her eyes and turned away from him. “And I’m not sorry for what I had to become.”
“I’m just…I thought it wouldn’t hurt to see you with him. But I guess I was wrong.”
There it was.
“Kalo—”
“I know you don’t belong to me,” he said quickly. “But seeing you with that monster, loving him?—”
“Kalo.”
Kalo’s smile was sad and knowing. “Your eyes say you do. Every time you look at him. The same way you used to look into the deep dark water when we were children. Like you were seeing something impossible and beautiful and terrifying all at once.”
The comparison hit too close to home. She turned away, staring out at the dark water. “I don’t belong anywhere anymore, Kalo. Not with the fae, not with the humans. I’m caught between worlds, and I don’t fit in either of them.”
“That’s not true.” His voice was gentle now, the way she remembered from those rare moments when he’d dropped his guard as a youth. “And I think you know it. Because you’re not the only one trapped without somewhere to belong. Are you?”
Wait.
What was he implying?
She looked at him with a furrowed brow.
“I don’t want to. But I can’t—” He sighed. Reaching out, he put his hands on her upper arms, stepping in close to her. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that, in a?—”
“I hate to interrupt.” Raziel. He had come from nowhere out of the darkness between two of the buildings, his red eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. His expression was unreadable, but Nadi could see the tension in his shoulders, the careful control he was maintaining.
“We were having a private conversation,vuampi.”
“Yes, I noticed. Very private. Very…personal.” Raziel was clearly displeased as he turned to Nadi. “There’s something else I need to discuss with you. Privately.”
The emphasis on the last word was unmistakable. Kalo’s expression hardened. “Is now a good time for secrets?”
“It is always a good time for secrets,” Raziel replied without shame.
But more and more, Nadi was wondering if that was truly the case.
Or if secrets weren’t the cause of all her grief from the very beginning.
The walk back to their cramped room felt longer than usual. Nadi could feel the weight of Raziel’s gaze on her, could sense the dangerous tension radiating from him like heat from a forge. His silence was somehow worse than his usual cutting remarks—a storm gathering strength before it broke.
She kept her eyes forward, focusing on the maze of metal walkways and reinforced walls that made up the warehouse interior. Anything to avoid looking at him directly. Because she knew what she would see there—possession and jealousy wrapped in carefully controlled fury. And she wasn’t ready to deal with whatever confrontation was brewing behind those crimson eyes.
