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Chapter Twenty-Nine

Regret

Vince

Crossbody dozed beside me, his forehead pressed to my hip and his hand on my thigh as his slow, steady breaths tickled my skin.

I was sitting up against the headboard, and my eyes burned from lack of sleep as I stared at nothing. Dawn was approaching, murky light creeping under the curtains and making the room gloomy. With every second that ticked by, morning getting closer and closer, a sense of dread filled my chest.

We’d had sex several more times before he passed out. Like last time, I’d gone and wet the hand towel in the bathroom with warm water to gently clean him up without disturbing him. This time though, I hadn’t let myself fall asleep, even though I was beyond exhausted.

I realised my fingers were sifting absently through his soft, tangled hair as I sat there in the still quiet, trying not to think about the fact that soon, I’d have to wake him up and we would leave.

Why did this keep happening? Why were we like this?

Why was there still this insatiable need inside me?

I’d just spent another entire night fucking him. That should’ve been more than enough. I should have been over it by now. It wasn’t even like I was typically a relationship person. One-night stands were usually enough for me. I had no interest in getting attached to people. I liked my life as it was, without having to worry about someone else in that way.

And it was Crossbody. The arrogant, snooty royal fae from work who acted like he was better than the rest of us. Who wore nice, expensive clothes and drove a nice car and was a fucking prince, for fuck’s sake. He represented everything I despised. Everything that, if I let it, intimidated me and made me feel small and worthless.

I’d never spent a lot of time around someone like him before—rich and upper class and ‘well bred’—but I was starting to realise that when he wasn’t putting up that front, he was just… normal. A normal person with desires and insecurities and goals.

He’d left his entire privileged life behind to pursue a career in professional wrestling. I’d never really let myself consider it too deeply before—I’d never cared enough to—but that was pretty… brave of him. Kind of admirable.

I mean, he was definitely still privileged. He was always going to be privileged just because of his standing. But when he was with me like this, submissive and gentle and desperate for me, I found that I didn’t care.

And he clearly didn’t either. At least physically, he wanted me—a ghoul with a shitty mom and an absent father, who’d grown up in a trailer and had only been able to afford second-hand clothes until I was in my twenties. I wasn’t fancy. I wasn’t refined. Some shitty people would probably have called me trash, at least before I’d worked hard to build a better life for myself and my uncle.

Crossbody never had though, I realised, slowly looking down at his serene, mind-numbingly beautiful face. He’d called me a slacker, he’d called me arrogant, he’d called me uncouth—which I kind of was—but he’d never actually dug deeper to get truly nasty and hit me where it really hurt. He probably didn’t even actually know anything about my life. Certainly not my childhood.

It was just his attitude that got to me, but I was suddenly remembering what Kit had said a while ago, and I thought maybe they were right. I didn’t think Crossbody even realised the way he sounded a lot of the time—how the things he said could be misinterpreted, usually by me.

And I could admit that often, I snarked back at him for no reason. Just because he’d annoyed me. Any time he spoke in the group or asked a simple question, I would always lash out or take an unnecessary jab in response.

Looking back, I realised I’d been the one to start our stupid feud, almost as soon as I joined Goliaths. His poise and clipped accent and whole refined demeanour had rankled me, made me feel insecure, so I’d started making snarky comments and keeping my distance. He hadn’t seemed to know how to respond at first—he’d probably been confused—but eventually, his dislike for me had grown in the face of how I treated him. Which I didn’t blame him for. I couldn’t. I’d been a fucking asshole for no reason. I’d judged him, because I’d automatically assumed he was going to do the same to me.

Guilt roiled in my stomach, making me swallow thickly. Carefully shifting down, I lay on my side facing him and reached over to tuck his hair behind his pointed ear. The room was getting light now, which meant we’d have to leave soon.

I didn’t want to.

“Crossbody,” I whispered, resting my hand beside his on the mattress and inching it closer until our fingertips brushed. His fingers were long and slender and elegant, with prominent knuckles and neatly trimmed nails. My short-bitten nails were dark and discoloured, though that was because I was a ghoul.

He stirred a little, making a soft sound and shifting his head nearer to me on the pillow.

“Crossbody,” I croaked again, and this time, his lashes fluttered as his eyes half opened. Wetting my lips, I forced myself to hoarsely say, “I’m sorry for being such an asshole to you.”

He was still half-asleep, and he wrapped his hand around mine, tugging it higher so he could tuck his face against it.

“You’re not,” he mumbled drowsily, making my throat close up.

“Yes, I am. I have been.” My forefinger lifted to stroke gently over his cheek.

“I have been too.” He was dozing back off, so I decided to let him sleep for a bit longer, because I was feeling unsettled and horribly vulnerable after what I’d just said.

Gently pulling my hand free, I shifted off the bed and scrubbed at my face. My stomach was shaky, almost sick with exhaustion once again. We couldn’t keep doing this. Ignoring each other at work before the tension exploded into a furious night of fucking in secret. It couldn’t be all that healthy, either physically or mentally.

I went into the bathroom to piss and wash my face. When I looked in the mirror, my eyes were even more shadowed than normal, and my hair was a fucking mess. I dragged my fingers through it, wincing every time they caught on snags, until it looked half-decent.