And he wouldn’t like what I was about to do with it.
“Why on Earth would you think that?” he asked, raking his hand through his hair.
Turned out that, magical or not, all guys fell apart into confused messes when the girls they liked got emotional.
“Because it’s the truth!” I yelled way too loudly. “You know it’s the truth! And what about my clothes? I know you don’t like the way I dress!”
“I—What?” Poor Abram. He was as lost as a socialite at a NASCAR race.
“You know you do! All you ever do is judge me!”
“Charisse, I—I don’t understand where this is all coming from. I just—”
I pulled the file out quickly, and ran it across my palm, breaking the skin.
“Goddamn it!” Abram yelled, rushing toward me. He pulled my palm toward him, sandwiching it between his and effectively stopping any of my blood from hitting the ground. “What the hell are you doing?”
“What I have to,” I said, dropping the charade of the easily offended psycho girlfriend. “I have to do this. I have to save those girls.”
“What about this girl?” he asked, eyes wide, motioning toward me. “What about my girl?”
A touch of guilt pinged at the back of my mind. Dalton had called me his girl not two days ago. And he meant it.
I pushed that aside and let myself drown in the other, more pleasurable sensations that Abram’s proclamation brought about.
I was his, something that belonged to him. He was saving me. He was prioritizing me. He was taking me.
And I wanted nothing more in that moment than to be taken. My inner feminist was appalled by my reaction, but I didn’t care. All I wanted in that moment was his hands on my body, his mouth on my lips.
Too bad he wasn’t done scolding me.
“You can’t be this foolish, Charisse,” he said sternly. “Not when so much is at stake.”
He looked at me, his dark eyes bearing clear down into my soul. And I realized that the thing at stake—the thing he was putting so much emphasis on protecting—was me.
“I just wanted to—”
“I know,” he said, leaning in close and shutting me up with his nearness. “But the only way to keep everyone safe is to keep our wits about us.”
He opened his hands, revealing that he had soaked up most of my blood with his palm. It shimmered, gold and sparkling against his tan skin.
“My God…” I murmured. “I’ve cut myself before. It never—”
“It wouldn’t, not unless your blood came in contact with someone of a supernatural persuasion.” It was then I noticed just how hard Abram was trying to keep his hand from shaking. “Just one drop of your blood,” he said, biting his lip. “You have no idea how much—”
“Oh God, are you in pain? Is this hurting you?” I asked, pulling my hand away. “Am I hurting you?”
“Not you,” he answered, closing his eyes. “The magic. I’m an abomination—all beast, no magic, remember? The magic doesn’t take to me very well.”
“Well, wipe it off!” I yelled, reaching for him.
“No!” He pulled his hand away. “It’s a beacon. Conduits can track it. If this touches anything, it’ll send the person after you right to us.”
“That was the point,” I said.
He glowered at me, but his scowl soon turned to a wince.
“Okay, so maybe this wasn’t my best idea.”
He shook his head. “Oh, no. I’m not playing that game with you again. But could you please stop with the blood luring?”
My hand was still bleeding, but I hadn’t touched anything. That was all I had to do, and the trap would be set. As I chewed at my lip, contemplating, his hand shot out to cover my wound again, his face twisting into deeper pain.
“Charisse, please.”
God, his voice was so strained. But what other choice did we have? “We can’t do nothing.”
“I promise we’ll do something,” he said. He barely got the words out. “Something. Not this. Please.”
Seeing Abram beg twisted up my insides. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t see him like this.
“Okay,” I whispered. “I won’t, okay?”
He nodded and released my hand again, then stumbled back to sit on the floor, leaning back against the wall clutching his hand against his chest.
“I didn’t mean for you to get hurt,” I said, overcome by guilt.
He balled his hand into a fist. “I’ll be fine, Charisse. This is far from the worst pain I’ve been in.”
“Uh-uh,” I said. I dug in my purse for a bottle of Evian. “At least let me help fix it.”
I kneeled beside him, opened the water, and pulled his fist apart before splashing the liquid onto his hand. The blood dispersed, as if by magic. Just…gone. When Abram’s hand was clean, I noticed his palm had been scorched.
“God,” I said, staring at his palm. “If that’s from me, then maybe I’m the monster.”
“You’re a miracle. I’m the monster,” he answered, visibly relaxing. “But that’s all right. If a monster is what it takes to keep you safe, then I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
And there it was, the miracle and the monster. But even if Abram was okay with being a monster, as he called himself, I wasn’t. He wasn’t this horrible thing. Hell, even in his beast form, he had done everything he could to keep me safe.
But that didn’t change the fact that, once the sun went down, he would lose control of himself. He would be forced to take a shape that wasn’t his own, to live a life that wasn’t of his choosing. And he had done it every day for well over a century.
“Satina,” I muttered, looking at him and seeing not just the man I adored or the monster that intrigued me, but also the naughty roguish boy who had gotten himself into a hundred and fifty years’ worth of trouble. “You said something about breaking the curse.”
“I said no such thing.” He wouldn’t look at me.
“No more lies, Abram,” I said, grabbing his chin and turning his face toward me. “And no more secrets. You said Satina’s spirit is connected to you until you die…or until the curse is broken. How do you break it?”
“Why don’t you ask her?” he grumbled.
“Well, for one, because I want to hear it from you. For two, we both know damn well she’s a liar.”
His gaze swung toward me. “And who do you think told me how to break the curse?”
“Right,” I said, feeling the sinking of defeat in my stomach. “Satina.”
Which meant anything he might know about breaking the curse was a moot point. For all we know, if he even tried to do what she said, it would only make matters worse.
“I don’t want to get either of our hopes up, Charisse,” he said quietly. “I’m not keeping secrets, and I’m not lying to you. I’m just not sure what the truth is.”
“I see. But there has to be a way,” I said, “And my hopes are getting up regardless, Abram. It’s a little something called faith that my Grandma taught me.”
“Hope you have enough for both of us,” he muttered.
I smiled. “At least I got you hoping for something.”
Abram didn’t respond. Instead, he straightened where he sat and tore the sleeve from this shirt. “Give me your hand.”
“Um, okay,” I said, stretching my hand out to him. He tore the fabric sleeve in half, making a scrap of cotton that he began to wrap around my wound.
As I watched him, I tried to think what our next move should be. My blood was magical—the sort of magic that was no less than poisonous to the touch (at least for Abram). If we were going to see our way out of this, we were going to need guidance—the same sort of guidance Abram sought out when this whole thing started.
“We need her help, Abram,” I said, though I couldn’t believe the words were coming out of my mouth.
“Whose help?” he muttered as he finished tying off the fabric. He looked up to me, and his expression shifted from blank curiosity to sheer
disbelief. “You can’t be serious, Charisse.”
“I am.”
“Satina’s not going to help us. Never, not in a million years. Just get that idea out of your head right now.”
I placed my uninjured hand over his and gentled my voice. “If we’re going to even have a chance of surviving this, we need her on her side. You must have had that thought at some point, too—that’s why you brought her back here.”
“And we see how well that went.”
“Abram,” I said, steeling my voice. “You need to set her free.”
He nearly choked on the air. “That’s a little unfair, don’t you think? She’s the one who needs to set me free.”
I knew why I needed Abram. Having him in my life meant it was safe for me to have moments of weakness. After years of staying strong while my mom fought cancer, I needed that. I needed for it to be okay to not be strong all the time.
But now I knew why Abram needed me. He needed someone to help him move past all his anger and bitterness, his self-loathing and regret.
“Maybe she will set you free,” I said. “Or maybe she won’t. But do you think she’ll even consider it while you’re keeping her captive?”
He swallowed and looked toward the staircase leading up to the room where Satina sat locked away and chained to a wall.
“We’ll try it,” he said slowly. “But if she tries to hurt you, I really will be the one to kill her this time.”
Chapter 22
“I don’t like this idea,” Abram said, standing beside me in front of the enchanted room that held Satina. “I know I agreed and, since I’m a man of my word, I’ll do it. But I think it should be noted that I don’t like it.”
“Noted,” I answered drolly, arms folded. “And your word, is that the only reason you consented?” I arched my eyebrows at him.
A grin spread across his face. This was a dark time. That much was true. But, if being there for my mother through her painful last days taught me anything, it was that darkness without a touch of light was too unbearable to get through.
“It was either that or your lips,” he answered.
“My lips?” I asked, surprised.
“They curl up when you get angry. Would you find it demeaning if I said it was arousing?”
A spike of warmth seemed to leak out from my heart, filling my chest. “No,” I admitted. “Not if you said it.”
He looked at me for a long moment. It was clear that we were lost in each other, sinking gleefully into the possibility of what we might be to each other. Soon though, his expression sobered. We didn’t have time for this, and we certainly didn’t have the luxury of forgetting what we were here for.
“I don’t think this is going to work,” he said, turning his attention back to the door. “Satina isn’t going to help us.”
“You said you brought her back for the express purpose of helping you. Try to channel some of whatever you were feeling when you did that.”
“That’s probably not a good idea,” Abram said, running a skillful hand through his hair. “And you saw how much good that did. If you didn’t have your father’s eyes, who knows if I would have ever made the connection. I might have still been scouring that stupid club, combing through beautiful women.”
The idea of Abram combing through beautiful women didn’t sit well with me, regardless of how pure his intentions were. But that wasn’t the only thing about his sentence that I took offense with.
“Don’t call The Castle stupid. It’s where we met. It’s your work.”
“You’re my work,” he answered. “The club was just a vessel to facilitate that.”
“Well, I like it.” I smiled, nudging his shoulder. “Ridiculous ice maker and all.”
His hand trailed down my side and rested at my hip for a brief moment before he pulled away. “Maybe I’ll give it to you one day.”
“The ice maker?” I asked.
“Whatever you want,” he answered quietly.
The proclamation made me flush. I cleared my throat and swiftly shifted the conversation. “You just have to tell her what the other beast did. Tell her he killed a Conduit to get his powers. She’ll hate that. Conduit solidarity and all.”
“They’re not the Girl Scouts, Charisse. She already knows about that, and she doesn’t care. And if you remember, she didn’t even want to be a Conduit in the first place. Besides, I was under the impression you were going to speak with her.”
“Me?” I balked. “Why would you think that?”
“Because it was your idea,” he answered, eyeing the door. “And because Satina still hates me for what I did to her when she was alive.”
“Have you apologized?” I asked, leaning in.
A quizzical look came over Abram’s sculpted face. “You’re not serious.”
“Dead serious.”
“No,” he said firmly. “I will not lower myself to apologize to a woman of that nature.”
“Of that nature?” I asked. “I get that you’re from another time and you were raised with outdated values, but I don’t think I’m comfortable with the idea of slut-shaming Satina, even if she is a psychotic witch.”
“They don’t like that word,” he scolded. “Conduits aren’t witches, not really.” He shook his head. “And I’m not some out-of-date fossil. I might have been born in a different time, but I grew up alongside this world. I’m just as contemporary as anyone.”
“Really?” I asked. “What’s a Kindle?”
“A bundle of sticks one uses for a fire. And it’s pronounced kindling,” he answered proudly.
“Right.” I sighed and turned away.
“What?” he said. “You can’t be mad at me for telling you how to say it correctly. Is this one of those times where you are pretending to be upset over nothing to distract me?”
“Look,” I said, laying a hand on his muscle-corded left arm. “I felt what she felt. I know what she went through that night with you. She was ashamed. She was afraid. She was embarrassed—more so than I’ve ever been in my life.” He tried to look away, but I traced his cheek with my fingers and held his attention. “I know what she did to you was wrong, and nothing could ever excuse that. But the healing has to start somewhere. And I know you can be the bigger person here.”
As he stared at me, I could see his resolve softening.
“My lips are curling again, aren’t they?” I asked.
“Every time,” he said, a smile breaking through his mask. “It’s uncanny.”
I knew I had him, so I nudged him toward the door. “So get in there, big boy.” I slapped his ass, surprised both at how firm it was and how this little gesture caused him to jump.
His eyes slid over to me. “I’m going to make you pay for that later.”
“So long as you make sure there is a later, I just might let you.” I winked. “Now go.”
I pushed the door open and felt a chill as the room revealed itself to us.
Satina sat in the corner, her chains reset from when she had broken one earlier. Her eyes darted toward us and, inexplicably, her tongue danced in and out of her mouth.
“I was wondering when you were finally going to come in.” Satina groaned, and her body twitched as though she was in pain.
My first instinct was to feel for her, but I quickly remembered who we were dealing with. This very well might have been a ploy to garner my sympathy. Satina was more than capable of that.
And I wanted to set her free.
“You heard us?” I asked, suddenly hyper-aware of all the flirting.
“I sensed you,” she answered. “A residual treat from your blood, Supplicant.” She smiled all wide and unearthly. “I wonder if you’d be so kind as to top me off.”
“We’re not here for that,” Abram started, moving through the doorway and toward Satina. “I need to talk to you, to give you something.”
“And what could you possibly have that would interest me, Beast?” she asked.
I kept my distance as he nea
red her. Nothing good would come from taunting Satina with my blood, not when she looked like one of those junkies on 9th Street, desperate for a high.
“My apology, Satina. That’s what,” he said, settling in front of her.
She looked up at him, her eyes licking over every inch of his body. Then, surprisingly, she cackled, shaking the entire room with her boisterous laugh.
“You’re desperate? Is that it?” She looked over at me, disdain flickering in her eyes. “You realize you’re out of your depth, and you think that some halfhearted apology will soften my heart.” She spit, literally spit, at him. “I’m not the weak-willed girl you knew, Beast, ready to spread her legs with little more incentive that a roguish brute telling her she’s pretty.”
“You were pretty,” he answered, wiping the spittle from his cheek. “And you’re right. I’m desperate. We won’t survive without your help, but that doesn’t change the fact that I wronged you once. And it’s past time that I take ownership for that.”
Her eyes went wide. For a second, I thought she was actually going to accept the apology. But then she scowled, twisting the dead girl’s mouth downward.
“This is about her.” She motioned toward me with her head. “About making yourself out to be the chivalrous hero to some chunky damsel in distress.”
She said that as if my curves were a bad thing, but I bit my tongue.
Abram’s posture stiffened. “That’s not what—”
“You still think you can trust him, don’t you?” she asked, looking past him to me. “I ask you, Supplicant, has he given himself to you entirely, the way I’m sure you’ve given yourself to him? Or are there still places he withholds from you, say a particular room in his Castle?”
I balked. She was talking about the strange marked door in the Castle, the one I still had never set foot in. But we hadn’t been back there yet, and I hadn’t asked him about it. There had been more pressing matters.
“And has he told you of the price he paid in order to bring me here?”
“Enough, Satina!” Abram yelled.
“You don’t think I see it?” Satina matched his yelling with her own. “The way she looks at you, the way you look back! It’s everything it should be—every required ingredient. But it would ruin everything, wouldn’t it?” She cackled again. “God, that is delicious.”
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