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It was why he was pulling me against him now, letting me close, not caring that I had a struggling baby fey in my arms who was considerably less than tame. It was why he was letting me there, right there, at his neck, one of a vampire’s most vulnerable spots. Just as he had in the shower, taking no precautions despite knowing what I was, what I could do.
What she could do.
And what she would do, sooner or later, if I didn’t woman the hell up.
“I think we need a break,” I said hoarsely, and immediately knew he didn’t get it. The body didn’t tense, the hand on my back continued stroking, the lips kissed my hair.
“It’s been quite a week,” he agreed—to a point I hadn’t been making. “The Senate has called another meeting for tomorrow, which is unavoidable. But after that, we should be able to get away for a few—”
“No.” I pulled back, but forced myself to look at him, because I owed him that much. “No, I mean we need a break. You and me.”
“What?” For some reason, he still looked confused.
Damn it! Why couldn’t he understand and let this be over? I wanted to rip the Band-Aid off, not stretch it into agony.
“My life’s a mess right now,” I said flatly. “I need some time to figure things out. Some time to myself,” I added, because he still didn’t get it.
And then, suddenly, he did.
“What?” He said it again, although I knew he understood. His eyes—God. Just make it stop!
“You heard me. I need some space.”
“Some space. What does that mean?”
“You know what it means!”
“Non.” It was rough. “I do not. If you wish to be with this fey, then say so—”
“This isn’t about him!”
“Then what is it about? Just a few days ago, you almost—” He broke off for a moment, and his jaw clenched. But then he came out with it, because Louis-Cesare isn’t like Mircea or any other vamp I’ve ever known. He just lays it all out there. “You almost marked me. And now you do not wish to see me anymore, comme ça? What am I supposed to think?”
“I didn’t mark you. I wasn’t—I just got carried away—”
I stopped, because that was a lie, and not even a very good one. But he’d flustered me. This whole thing was throwing me in ways I hadn’t expected. I didn’t know how to break up with someone; I’d never had to before. The few long-term lovers I’d had in the past—if you could call a few weeks long-term—had hightailed it for the horizon as soon as Dorina reared her head the first time. They’d left me, not vice versa, and I’d always assumed I got the short end of the stick.
I’d been wrong.
Leaving was much harder.
Especially with someone who mirrored every emotion, every thought, on his face. Like now, when he’d just paled, enough that it was visible even in the darkness of the hall. And his eyes . . .
I didn’t want to look at them anymore. I didn’t want to hurt him. I didn’t want any of this, but a small hurt now was better than what lay ahead.
But, God, I wanted to tell him the truth! That was the worst part of it. He’d never know how much I did want him, how much I’d always—Fuck, what was the point? Just finish this!
But he beat me to it.
“Ah. Of course. I should have realized.”
“Realized . . . ?”
But I didn’t get an answer. To anything. His throat was working, but he didn’t say anything else.
And then the door slammed open behind us and Soini came through, grinning hugely and holding two full beer steins. “Dory! I just heard!” He bent and kissed me lightly on each cheek. Like that was a perfectly normal thing for a member of the standoffish fey to do. “It’s so wonderful! And not just because there will be someone to take the pressure off me. I mean, it’s not so bad; people just have all these expectations. But you already know what you’re doing, so you won’t have to worry about that, and now we have a new sister! It’s been so long since we found anyone among your people—”
Soini kept talking, and tugging, trying to shepherd us back to the festivities. Probably because I was the guest of honor. It didn’t work. I couldn’t hear him anymore, just the rise and fall of his voice, with no words making sense. And I couldn’t move, even though the hall seemed to be doing that on its own, telescoping in on me. Because Louis-Cesare’s face . . .
