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“I haven’t been in the human world for a while. But I’m guessing there’s no keeping the battle at Boston secret.”
“No, but the location of our city isn’t known.”
“Can you stop thinking like a future king and an asshole for a half a minute and think of how Belle feels?”
“I know how Annabelle feels.” Castor’s tone drops and it vibrates through me. I want to kick him in the shins. I don’t want to be attracted to him right now. Not when I’m so blooming angry at him. At myself. At the whole darn situation.
“Then behave like you do,” Holter growls out.
There’s a limo waiting in the building’s garage. The driver doesn’t get out, and when I slide in, the heater is on, but Holter pulls me close. “You warm enough?”
“Fine. It will be a lot colder at home.” Home. It hangs in my throat, choking me. The windows are tinted on the inside too.
Too quickly, the limo stops. The guys get out. I take Castor’s hand. I can’t help it.
“I’m sorry, Annabelle,” he says. “I’m sorry for everything that my nation has done to you. That I did.” He’s holding my bag.
“I can take it.” I motion to my bag.
“We’ll walk you to security.” He lifts my bag onto his shoulder.
It hits me in my gut. I could really bring them down. The whole city. I’ll have to think hard about letting the witch take my memories. I’m a danger to them. And I’ve seen what they do to those they think are a danger.
Holter wraps his arm around me. There are people all around. So many people. There were lots of people in the Veiled City too. But there they were all staring at me. I was the outsider. Here I’m just an American. An American with no luggage and only one small, mostly empty bag. Apparently, traveling internationally without a bag sets off bells. So I took some of the clothes Castor’s assistant bought me. They’re under the bank information. Which I still haven’t looked at.
It’s loud, with gate announcements and wheelchair attendants zipping through the crowd. The line for security is long.
Holter clings to my hand, and I throw my free arm around his neck. This is it. I’m really leaving.
I whisper, “I love you,” into his ear.
“I love you too.” Then he claims my lips. I feel the crowd flowing around us. Castor stands protectively close. When Holter pulls back, I stare at him. I can’t believe this is goodbye. I can’t say it.
Holter’s still holding my hand. I turn to Castor. He’s not my mate. But I’m connected to him too. I bring him in for a one-armed hug. When I brush my lips against his cheek, he turns and our lips collide. Our kiss is a passionate one that I can’t stop.
I hear an older woman with a Southern voice say, “I still don’t understand these Europeans.”
Castor and I separate. He says something in Dorian, which is the first time he’s ever not spoken English around me. Holter smiles and squeezes my hand before he lets it go. And just like that, I’m an outsider. I don’t bother to ask what Castor said. I suppose it doesn’t matter.
“You should get in line now, Belle.”
I should. “I guess.” I give them both a quick peck on the cheek.
Castor hands me my bag, and I dart for security. I don’t want to look back. I’m afraid they’ll be gone. They have places to get to. But I do too.
They’re both still there. Holter gives me a wave, Castor an incline of his head. I turn back around. And when I do, I bump into the woman in front of me. She’s a little older than my aunt. “Excuse me.”
“No, worries,” she says with a French accent, and we inch forward.
I smile at her and look down into my bag, getting my passport and tickets out.
“Your friends. They are watching you. Handsome men.”
“Yes.” I nod.
“Your boyfriend?”
I nod again. I try to hold back the tears.
