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“Because you asked if I was happy to live forever.” He looks at me then, fully, and the crimson of his eyes in the firelight is deep and unreadable. “I’m telling you the truth. I wasn’t. And then I found you. That is the whole of my answer. I’m not trying to convince you of anything. I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. You asked, so I answered.”
“I’ll think about it,” I say. He nods once, and the disappointment that moves across his features is brief before he quickly masks it.
CHAPTER 50
• Alessia •
ARLO IS AWAKE when I reach his cell, standing this time rather than slumped against the wall.
The sight of him upright sends a wave of relief through me that is followed by concern because standing means he heard me coming and standing must have caused him pain.
His eyes catch the dim light as they find me in the corridor, and the recognition that crosses his face is immediate. His hands shoot through the bars to grip my cloak and pull me forward, and his mouth finds mine before I can speak.
The kiss is desperate. His fingers press into my skin through the thin cloak, and his lips move against mine with a hunger that he has spent too many years hiding. I kiss him back, relieved the infection hasn’t worsened over the last twenty-four hours. Kissing Arlo is like reliving all of the past heartache and longing at once, but it doesn’t bring me the same relief I thought it would.
Growing up on Purgatory, I always felt out of place, longing for a home that no longer existed. I always thought Arlo was home, but here I am kissing him, and all I can think of is Kylian.
My lips are pressed against his, but the response that should come doesn’t arrive with the same hunger. The bond flares and pulses with a dull heat that grows sharper the longer Arlo’s mouth is on mine, not pain exactly, but awareness.
Even as my head tries to forget that I’m tied to another man, the bond refuses to let me. My hands rest against his chest but they don’t grip. My breath catches, but it’s not from desire. The hesitation lives in every fiber of me, and I cannot hide it, not from Arlo.
He notices immediately and pulls back. His hands remain on my arms, but his grip loosens, and his eyes search my face with an intensity that makes my chest ache. I can see the moment he registers the change. The shift in me that wasn’t there the previous night, and the guilt swamps me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“He’s doing something to you,” Arlo says, and his voice cracks on the accusation. “Don’t tell me you’ve got feelings for him?”
“You paint him as if he is evil. He has done nothing to show me that, Arlo.”
“That’s what they do. Vampires get inside your head. They twist what you feel until you can’t tell the difference between what’s real and what they put there.” His hands tighten on my arms again, gripping as if he can physically hold me in the version of reality he needs me to stay in. “You hate them, Ali. You’ve always hated them. Everything they’ve done to us, everything they’ve taken. You can’t possibly feel something for the creature holding you hostage.”
I want to argue he is wrong, but at the same time, I cannot say he is. Not entirely. Because I don’t know where the bond ends and I begin, I don’t know which feelings belong to me and which were planted by a force I never consented to, and the uncertainty of it has me questioning every part of me.
“I can heal you,” I say, wanting desperately to change the subject. I can’t argue about the compassion of vampires with a man who has only seen the inside of a cell. Not when every second I stand in this corridor is a second closer to being caught. “Your back is infected, and it’s getting worse. If it spreads to your blood, you will die down here. I brought medicine.”
His eyes narrow. “You found medicine?”
I nod quickly. “There is an apothecary vault here. I’ve been making medicine for the sick in the infirmary. It will help.” I swallow hard. “But you need to listen to me. If Kylian discovers what you are to me, if he realizes I care about you, he will kill you. So once you’re feeling better and they let you out, we’ll need to keep our distance while I figure out how to get you back to Purgatory.”
Arlo takes a step back. “You mean find a way to get us both back to Purgatory?”
A lump forms in my throat as I watch his face darken. “I have seen enough of him to know that when it comes to me, he has no limits and no mercy for anyone he considers a threat. He won’t let me go, but I can find a way to get you out of here and back to Angie and your mother.”
I reach into the fold of my dressing gown and pull out the vial. The blood inside catches what little light reaches us, dark and dense and carrying that faint luminous quality that marks it as something other than human. I hold it up between us, and Arlo’s gaze drops to it. The realization moves across his face in stages: confusion, understanding, then something that makes my stomach drop.
Disgust.
“You didn’t make that!”
He moves away as if the proximity to its contents is enough to contaminate him, and the look he turns on me is unrecognizable.
“That’s his blood, isn’t it,” Arlo says, and the words come out harsh. “You brought me the blood of the monster who took you from me—from your life, and you want me to drink it.”
“It will heal your wounds, Arlo. The infection is spreading, and this is the only thing strong enough to stop it. You have no idea what I went through to get this for you, and you’re just going to refuse it out of pride.” My voice rises more than I intend, and I force it back down, terrified of echoes in stone corridors.
“Pride.” He laughs, and the sound is hollow and gutted. “You think this is about pride? You carry blood from the man who holds you captive, and you’re offering it to me as if it’s a gift. As if I should be grateful.”
“It will heal you,” I argue, and my hand shakes around the vial. “It doesn’t matter where it came from, only that it works.”
