“It’s you.”
Her heart leaped—then plummeted. The voice wasn’t Deyric’s. Too smooth. Too controlled.
Fingers encircled her wrist, holding her in place.
She looked up, breath catching in her throat.
“Lord Caelith?” She barely managed, too dumbfounded to pull away.
His fingers tightened, just slightly. Not enough to hurt. But enough. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Chapter seventeen
“Beenlookingforme?”Emmaline pulled her hand away. “Why?”
Caelith blinked, clearly startled by her reaction, as if the thought of her pushing back hadn’t even crossed his mind.
“Well…” He hesitated, lips parting, but she didn’t give him the space to recover.
“How did you know I was here?” She took a slow step backward, putting distance between them. The club throbbed with life behind her, but standing there, so close tohim, the noise felt distant—muffled, as if she’d stepped just beyond its reach, leaving only the hollow press of dread pooling beneath her skin.
Earlier this week, he had barely even acknowledged her existence. And now, after the Patrol had scoured his castle, he was suddenly looking for her? She might have been obsessed with him, but she wasn’t a complete idiot.
“I don’t.” Caelith exhaled, rolling his shoulders. And then—
The charm slid into place like a mask. His voice softened, and his gaze dipped just enough to feign sincerity. “I didn’t mean to catch you off guard. I just wanted to check on you and make sure you were okay.”
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” She took another step back and found the wall behind her.And why the hell do you care?
He moved closer. “The Patrol,” he said, like it was obvious, like it was something he’d spent so much time worrying about. “I was worried they’d found out you were there that night.”
He lifted a hand, reaching for her, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear with an intimacy that made her stomach lurch. His face held only concern, but the touch felt wrong.
“That doesn’t explain why you would come all the way out here.” Her voice was cool as she turned her head, forcing his hand to fall away. “Or how you knew I was here.”
For the briefest second, something dark flickered across his expression—too fast, too fleeting to catch. But she felt it. Then, just as quickly, his face smoothed back into that perfect look of compassion.
“Deyric.” He sagged, letting his hand fall to his side.
“What about Deyric?” A painful, breathless pressure tightened in her ribs, the edges of the room narrowing around her.
Caelith looked away. His jaw shifted, and there was something rigid in the set of his shoulders, as if the words sat heavy on his tongue, unwilling to be spoken.
“What?” She took a half step toward him, then thought better of it, pressing back into the wall instead.
He exhaled slowly, brows drawn in an approximation of distress. “He was talking about you. About how you’d…”
Her pulse hammered. “About how I’d… what?”
Caelith hesitated. “About how you’d thrown yourself at him.” His mouth pressed into a thin line as if tasting something distasteful. “His words were most uncouth and do not bearrepeating.”
The walls felt too close. Her fingers flexed uselessly at her sides as something cold slithered beneath her skin. He couldn’t have said those things.
“He bragged about how you begged him to come here tonight. Begged him to…” He looked away. “Fuck you again.”
“No.” The word barely escaped.
Caelith stepped closer, offering an arm as if to steady her. “I’m so sorry…er…petal.”
