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“Yes,” he answered and held his sword a little too tightly as he passed Sebastian. “Vangard,” he acknowledged, his frown tight as he left, closing the door behind him.
I raised an eyebrow. “Vangard? He only calls people he doesn’t like by their last name.”
“I never assumed he would like me.” He strolled to the bed. “I am about to marry you, after all.”
“Why would that matter?”
He looked up. “Don’t pretend you don’t know how he feels about you.”
“We’re friends. It’s not like that,” I defended.
He lifted his hands, signaling surrender. “Okay, okay.” He tapped a finger against the dimple on his cheek. “Anyway, I came to see how you’re doing.”
“I’m okay. Really,” I added as concern etched into his features. “I felt powerful today, but at the same time powerless.”
“I know.” He sat next to me. I noticed the dried blood speckled on the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt.
“Did you just feed?”
He blinked twice, his brows knitting together. “Oh.” He glanced down at the stain. “Yes.”
Something felt different. I touched his arm, and the usual pain was masked by a stark cruelness that threw me off balance. “Areyouokay?”
“I’m fine,” he lied. I could feel it in some unspoken bond between us. “I’m more worried about you.”
“Don’t be,” I responded, my heart pounding.
Since Hamza, I’d gone through a rollercoaster of emotions. I didn’t realize how vulnerable I felt until I was with Sebastian again. It was like he brought something in me to the surface. Something I wanted to keep buried. But it was also like being home. Being around him felt annoyingly comforting.
I gazed at the lamp, then moved my eyes up to the painting of roses above the nightstand.
Breaking the silence, I licked my lips. “Sebastian.” His tortured stare stole my next breath, the pained expression suppressed under a mask of restraint. Tears swelled in his eyes, and my heart ballooned. “You haven’t come to see me, since everything. I know marriage isn’t what you wanted. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” he whispered. “It’s not that. I’ve just… it’s been a lot. I was avoiding you,” he admitted. “It was a mistake. Maybe if I hadn’t, then Hamza would—”
“Don’t you dare.”
“What?”
“Blame yourself.”
He pressed his lips into a thin line. “Hamza’s dead now, so you’re safe.”
I recalled what he said, about wanting to murder him after he found out what happened. “Wait… did you—”
He shook his head. “No.”
My stomach knotted. “Good.”
“Good?”
“You’re not a murderer. I wouldn’t want you to become one for me.”
He laughed. “I’ve killed before. You know this.”
“I mean, you’re not one in your soul. You’re not like the other monsters here. You care.”
His breath hitched, and he ran his hand through his dark strands. “I told you before, Olivia. Even demons can appear mortal. Hamza showed that today.”
