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“It’s not that bad,” he said. “With Nigel in charge, we aren’t safe in any of the compounds, anyway. And I haven’t slept that well in weeks.”
I was still wearing a towel, so I opened the closet to look inside. I was expecting, if anything, a pile of dark old garments. But instead, I found a comfortable pair of sweats and a tracksuit. Underwear in a few sizes, male and female. Someone had put in a little bit of effort to see that we were functionally dressed.
I lay on the bed as Trevor took his shower. He came out smelling like soap, his dark, shaggy hair hanging around his eyes, a white towel riding low on his hips. He had more scars than I remembered, but maybe I hadn’t been paying attention.
My eyes drifted lower, and I felt warmth fill my chest. I wanted him, and hated myself for it. I knew it was the thirst in my system, and my grief. I wanted a distraction, a release. Anything but the silent ulcer, the aching void in my chest, eating me up from the inside.
He looked at me, and I could see the concern in his dark eyes. He was worried about me.
“You were right,” I said quietly.
“About what?” he asked.
“We should have run away, before the Choosing.”
“It’s a little late for that now,” he frowned, pulling on a dark T-shirt that fit tightly against his chest and torso, and a pair of boxers. I didn’t look away as I watched him change.
“We would have found survivors. We could have made it work. My siblings would be safe in Algrave. I don’t even know if they’re still alive, and I’m risking all of this. I’ve put everyone I care about in danger.”
“You want to give up?” Trevor asked. He stepped closer and sat beside me, his arm resting against mine.
“What if we aren’t enough,” I asked, my eyes wide and vulnerable, as I voiced my doubts out loud for the first time. “IfI’mnot enough?”
“That will never be true,” he said softly, brushing my bangs to the side with his fingers. There was something hungry in his expression that mirrored my own, so I leaned forward and kissed him. He didn’t pull away, at first. But when he did, it was like removing the barbed sting of a wasp—sharp and painful.
“You don’t want to?” I whispered.
“What about your prince?” he asked, his brows furrowed.
I felt my eyes water.
“You aren’t thinking clearly,” he said, standing up and turning away, his expression dark. I reached for his wrist.
“Please,” I said.
He pulled away with a shaky breath.
“I… I can’t. I can’t be casual. Not about this, not with you.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Come on, Emily. Sleep with me, to keep me close, so I’ll help rescue your boyfriend? I need more than that. I deserve more.”
“That’s not—”
“Someday, when all this is finished, we can have this discussion. But for me, it’s forever or nothing. I’m not built to share.”
He kissed my forehead. Embarrassed, I tried to push him away, but he wrapped me in his big arms and pulled me down onto the bed with him. After a few moments, I relaxed into him. He was right. Neither of us were thinking clearly. Or at least, that was an easy excuse. I could quench my thirst in other ways. I was renitent after all. But I knew for some humans, the thirst would become a frenzied madness.
I’d seen what Camina had done to Penelope; and I knew her addiction was not tamed. She might become dangerous, even violent as it clears her system. That’s why they’d locked us up. It could take days. Weeks, even.
“You got us out of there Em,” Trevor said. “Not Damien, nobody else.You.I’ve never seen anyone move that fast.”
He held me as a tear leaked down my cheek, dampening his chest.
“I wasn’t fast enough.”
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