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15
Tarnley
Rain falls outside, hitting the tin roof of my patio and sliding off to the sides as I lean against the doorjamb. The breeze is cool against my skin, but even if it had been ice cold or blistering hot, I doubt I would have paid it much notice.
Not when I’m standing here, waiting to lure Bronywyn into a trap.
It feels wrong even though I know it’s what I need to do. Outside, Rainey, Elijah, Delaney, Fearghas, and Cole await her arrival. Ridley waits with them, ready to dematerialize them up here as soon as she’s secured within the ward trap painted on the floor beneath my throw rug.
The moment Bronywyn steps into it, she’ll be trapped. Unable to leave until we’ve ripped the shadow magic from her body.
Reaching up, I toy with the collar of my shirt. So much rides on tonight, and if we fail, I’m not sure Bronywyn will ever come around again.
Honestly, she’ll probably just kill me, saving me the trouble of withering away as I have been for the past two months.
The elevator doors ding, sliding open moments before soft footsteps fill my ears. “Bronywyn,” I greet, still facing the dark city.
“Tarnley.”
With a deep breath, I turn to face off with her. She stands just inside my apartment, dressed in black jeans and a bright red leather jacket. It matches the red shade of her lips, a beautiful contrast to the blonde hair loose around her face.
She’s so fucking gorgeous it breaks my heart all over again, knowing what I have to do. Because even as I know it’s necessary, I know she’s going to hate me for it. At least, for a while.
“You’re late.”
“Had to finish up my business.”
I take the first step. “You said you were out of town?”
“Yes.” She stays right where she is.
“Any particular reason?”
“None I feel like sharing.” She pulls up her sleeve. “You planning on getting this over with? Or talking my ear off until you croak?”
I bite down on my bottom lip, my attempt at controlling the rage bubbling within my chest at the callousness of her words. “Want a drink?” Changing directions, I make my way into my kitchen and grab the bottle of whiskey beside the two glasses I set up before taking my post by the balcony.
“No. I have things to do.”
I turn back to her, knowing I won’t get her to move by offering her a drink. So, I switch tactics, hating myself even more than I already do for what I’m about to try.
My only consolation is that as soon as the shadow magic is out of her system—she’ll thank me. Or so I tell myself. Summoning what little strength I have, I blur across the room, coming to stop right in front of her.
Her green eyes widen, and I try not to focus on the black rims around either iris. “You look beautiful,” I whisper, reaching up to trail a finger along her jaw. “Delicious.”
She shivers beneath my touch, sending my own pulse racing. “What the hell are you doing?” she asks, though her words lack any and all heat, coming out as barely more than a whisper.
“I’ve been pretty damn open about that, haven’t I?”
Bronywyn raises her wrist, but I grip it, thumb pressing over her hammering pulse. I can all but taste the blood on my tongue, the copper-infused cinnamon that is her distinct flavor. My fangs slide down as the predator itches to be free. But I shove him back down. “Not yet.” My hand goes to her hip. “I’ve missed you.”
Bronywyn doesn’t speak; she barely breathes, and while the words I’m saying are the truth, the reason behind speaking them in this moment makes me more of an evil bastard than I’ve ever been in my entire life.
“Have you missed me? Or have I fucked up so badly that you want nothing to do with me?” I whisper.
“You don’t want who I am now.”
“I do. So fucking much. I’m so, so sorry I was so dismissive of it.” I press my lips to the side of her throat, trailing my tongue over her skin.
