by RuNyx .
She nodded again. "I'm fine. But I need my car tomorrow."
Dante smiled. "Tristan arranged for the repairs already."
Her eyebrows hit her hairline as she turned to the other man. "You did?"
He ignored her, his eyes on Dante. "Should I get ready?"
"Yes."
Another silent look.
Tristan Caine nodded and walked around the counter, heading towards the stairs.
Dante turned to her, his dark eyes genuinely concerned. "My apartment is two floors down. I know you said you didn't want to work with him, so if you'd like you can stay there for tonight. I won't be home and it will be empty."
She saw Tristan Caine stop on the stairs before she could speak, his entire body tensing as he turned to face Dante, his eyes cool.
"She stays here," he growled.
Growled.
Morana blinked in surprise as the edge in the tone. It sent a shiver through her. She'd have thought he'd be glad to have her out of his hair.
Dante spoke up from beside her, addressing the man, a hand in his pocket. "It's a better option. You will return later and I won't. She can stay comfortably till morning."
Tristan Caine didn't blink away from his blood brother, and another look passed between them.
"Tristan..." Dante spoke, his voice slightly worried. "You don't..."
Tristan Caine turned his eyes to her, the force of his gaze knocking the breath out of her lungs.
"You won't come to any harm tonight," he told her, the conviction in his voice hard. "Stay."
Before Morana could blink, much less digest the words, he was gone.
And Morana sat exactly where she had been sitting minutes ago, completely stumped.
Rain.
Drops beating against the glass in a musical, melancholic symphony. There was something about the sound of rain that sent pangs through her chest.
Morana lay curled on her side, listening to the sound of raindrops hitting the glass, the urge to feel them, to see them, overwhelming her.
She was all alone. In the room. In the apartment. In her life.
Swallowing, she got down from the bed in the darkened room, and slowly walked towards the door, her heart heavy in her chest for some reason. Opening the door, she looked out into the completely darkened living area and walked on quiet feet towards the glass wall that beckoned her on a level she hadn’t realized she had.
The faint light from outside filtered through the wall almost ethereally. She walked, closer and closer to the glass, seeing the raindrops splash against the glass and slither down.
Morana stopped a step away from the glass, watching her breath steam it slowly before it disappeared. The clouds hung heavy in the night sky, the lights of the city twinkling on the right, glittering like gems on a fabric of obsidian, the sea on her left for as far as she could see, cresting and falling with the storm.
Morana stood on the spot, drinking in the view, her throat tightening.
She had never seen rain like this. Never felt this freedom in her eyes. Her views from her window had ended in manicured lawns and high fences, beyond which nothing could be seen. She felt her hands rise of their own accord, the profound need in her heart so acute, for something she knew she could never have, for something she hadn't even known she'd needed.
Her hands hesitated an inch from the glass, her heart bleeding. She slowly pressed them down. The cool glass felt solid against her palms. She stood there for a long moment, aching, only a wall of glass between her and certain death. She watched the city in a way she'd never seen it, the city she had lived her entire life, the city that was still a stranger.
Her hands slid down the glass as she sat down on the floor right against it, cross-legged, and leaned forward, her breaths steaming the glass repeatedly.
Thunder crackled in the sky, a split of lightening bathing everything in brilliant white before disappearing. Droplets hit the glass in tandem, trying to break it like bullets, trying to reach her but unable to. She sat behind that wall, longing to feel those droplets on herself, longing to let them sear her, but unable to. And wasn't that her life. Longing for things she couldn't reach, things that tried to reach her and came up against a wall. A glass wall. Where she could see everything, know exactly what she was missing, drown in her awareness even as the glass couldn't break. Because just as it did now, breaking the glass meant death.
And lately, Morana wondered if it wouldn't be worth it.
Her lips trembled, her hands pressed against the glass, seeing the tears fall from the sky and slide down the walls in defeat, and felt one slip from the corner of her eye.
And felt him in the room.
She should have turned around and stood up. She knew she definitely shouldn't give him her back, should not leave herself vulnerable. But in that moment, she couldn't get herself to move her eyes from the view and her hands from the glass. She couldn't get herself to tense.
She felt tired. Exhausted deeper than her bones.
And the fact that he'd told her she wouldn't be harmed told her she wouldn't be. She'd seen enough liars in her life to recognize a man who wasn't. He'd made no secret of his hatred for her, and that, conversely, was the very thing that told her that for this moment, she could believe his word.
So, she didn't tense, didn't turn, just waited for him to leave.
The back of her neck pricked as he watched her, and she felt him move. She didn't know how she knew. He made absolutely no sound, his feet completely silent on the floor. But she knew he'd moved.
She sat there in silence and saw his feet in her periphery.
She didn't look up. He didn't look down. The silence continued.
Morana kept her eyes on the raindrops, her heart pounding as he folded his legs and sat down a foot away from her, his eyes looking out.
Morana glanced at him from the corner of her eye, seeing his unbuttoned shirt teasing a strip of flesh she'd seen earlier, his weight resting on his palms that rested on the floor as he leaned back on them.
She caught sight of a small scar and felt her heart ache. She'd never really given a thought, in all the injustice that happened to women, to what happened to men in their world. She knew that power and survival were the two ultimates but never wondered about what the price of it was. Were the scars on him a norm or an anomaly like he was? Were they the price of being that anomaly in a family that valued blood? How many had been inflicted by enemies? How many had come at the hands of the family? Was this the cost of him coming to where he was in their world? What kind of a toll did it take on men? Was that why most of them were so detached? Because that became the only way to deal with the pain? Was that what had happened to her father? Was he detached because that was how he'd coped all his life, to keep his power?
Questions lingered in her mind, along with the memory of the gashes she'd seen across the flesh of the man beside her. She might hate him, but she respected strength. And his body, she realized, was more than a weapon. It was a temple of strength. It was a keeper of tales – tales of his survival, of things she couldn't even fathom in this ugly, ugly world.
Morana thought about Amara, about the torture she had resisted and survived for days at the hands of enemies, and realized how truly lucky she had been in comparison. She'd never been abducted, never been tortured, never been violated like so many other women in their world. And she wondered why. Was it because of her father? Or some other reason?
"My sister loved the rain."
The softly spoken words, in that husky, rough voice of whiskey and sin, broke through her thoughts.
And then the words sank in, stunning her. Not just because it was something supremely private he'd shared with her, but because of the deep, deep love she could hear in his tone.
She'd not thought him capable of the kind of love she heard in his voice, not for anyone. And that's what stunned her. Morana didn't turn to look at him, didn't even glance at him as he didn't at her, but her hands pressed into the glass, surprise
coursing through her at his words, even as it confused her.
She swallowed, her heart pounding. "I didn't know you had a sister," she spoke in the same soft tone, never looking away from the view.
Silence.
"I don't anymore."
And the flat tone was back. But Morana didn't believe it. She'd heard that warmth, heard the love. Even he couldn't snap back to that detached mode that quickly. But she didn't call him out on it for some reason.
They sat in the complete darkness, facing the sky and the city and the sea, facing the quick droplets that fell in sync with heartbeats, the silence between them not thick but not brittle either. Just silence. She didn't know what to make of it.
Her mouth opened before she could think about it.
"My mother loved the rain."
A pause.
"I thought you had a mother."
A familiar knot constricted her throat. "I don't anymore."
She felt him glance at her then, and turned her head, her eyes locking with deep, deep blue. Something dark flashed in his eyes again and he looked away.
Morana swallowed. "Why did you want me to stay here?"
He sat there, not tensing, not looking at her, his gaze outwards. Silence.
"Dante was right. I could have been safe, comfortable there," she told him quietly.
"You are safe and comfortable here," he told her in an equally quiet voice, the words heavy with meaning.
"For tonight."
"For tonight."
Morana looked back out the window, seeing the rainfall, hearing it clap against the glass as she sat a foot away from him.
They sat in that utter darkness, with a kind of silent truce that she knew would lift the moment the sun came out, a silent truce they would never acknowledge in the light of the day, a dark stolen moment against a glass wall that she would remember but never speak of.
She would remember it because, in that moment, something inside her shifted. Shifted utterly, because in that moment, the enemy, the man who hated her more than anything, had done what no one had ever done.
In that moment, the man who'd claimed her death had given her a glimpse of life by doing something he probably didn't even realize he'd done.
In that moment, the enemy had done what no one had ever even tried to do for her.
He had made her feel a little less lonely.
The moment would be over when the sun came out.
But for that silent moment, something inside her beyond her own understanding, even as she hated him, shifted.
Indecision was weighing her down, where her own emotions were concerned.
Her father hadn't called again.
Not once.
Morana didn't know why that worried her, but for some reason, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to happen. Something she was not going to like by any means. She wouldn't anyway, not if her father was perpetrating it.
Taking a deep breath, and shaking off those thoughts for later, she opened the door of the guest bedroom and walked out into the penthouse.
After the previous night, had she been any regular girl in any other world, she wouldn't have known what to expect. But her normal wasn't regular, which was exactly the reason she knew what to expect.
She walked out of the guest bedroom, knowing she was alone in the penthouse. He'd left as soon as dawn had struck, and so had she, retreating into the guestroom for the remainder of the night, a few hours ago.
They hadn't spoken a word after that initial conversation, but she knew, as she walked towards the kitchen, that whatever silent truce had existed with those fragile raindrops had disappeared along with the rain. The sun shone brightly in the sky, the light cutting through the glass wall and lighting up the entire room, every dark inch of space touched with fire, the conditioned air keeping away the heat. The view, that gorgeous view, lay bare before her eyes, the sunlight glinting off the water at one end and climbing over the buildings at the other.
Hopping up on the stool she'd been sitting on the previous evening, she thought of preparing some coffee for herself then thought better of it. The truce was over. She'd already been drugged once. She wasn't a fool enough to be again.
The sound of the elevator opening made her turn quickly, her hand resting on her handbag, where her gun resided. Her grip on the bag eased slightly when she saw Amara walking towards her, her tall, curvy body encased in tan slacks, a red top, and green silk scarf, her dark, wild curls falling around her beautiful face, a small smile on her lips.
"Good morning, Morana," the woman nodded, her forest-green eyes bright.
Morana relaxed slightly and nodded back. "Amara."
Amara smiled and pulled open the fridge. The familiar manner with which she moved around the space as she got glasses from cabinets irked Morana for some reason. She grit her teeth and turned away, looking out at the view.
"Would you like some juice?"
Morana turned back to see her holding up some orange juice in her hand, her head tilted in a query. She hesitated and Amara smiled. "It's not drugged, don't worry."
Mentally shaking her head at herself, Morana nodded.
"I cannot blame you for worrying, though. Not after what happened at the club," Amara kept on speaking, pouring out the cool liquid in two tall glasses, her voice that same soft timbre it had been, making Morana's heart clench, her mind racing with questions about this woman who'd shown her only kindness. What was it like for her, knowing she could never speak above a whisper? Did it hurt if she spoke louder? Did she carry physical scars too? How badly had she been tortured?
Morana blinked the questions away, more pressing ones rising in her mind.
"Did you get back to the club safely that night?" she asked as the other woman sat across from her, her elbows on the table.
"Yes," Amara replied in her soft rasp. "Tristan was there. I was safe."
Coming from a woman who'd been tortured as a girl, that one statement told Morana a lot. She filed it away for later and continued with the questions.
"Do you know who got in the SUV after you and Mr. Caine made it to the club?"
Amara frowned slightly, her lips pursing. "No. Did something happen?"
Morana sighed, shaking her head. There was no point in telling her the story if he hadn't. Had he told Dante? Or had he omitted information again?
"Although," the woman mused, her dark eyes blinking in memory, "now that I think of it, Tristan did hurry back out when he saw the SUV going again."
Morana watched Amara take a sip from her glass, and satisfied that it was fine, she took a sip from hers. The sweet, cool drink washed down her throat, tingling her senses as she sat straighter, her eyes on the other woman.
"You're incredibly brave, you know," Amara spoke in that hushed voice of hers, a smile on her lips.
Morana blinked in surprise, before feeling herself flush slightly. "Um, thank you, I guess."
The other woman chuckled at her awkward response, completely relaxed in the space. "Tristan is an intimidating man, all on his own. And he goes out of his way to intimidate you more. The fact that you spent the night alone at his house tells me a lot about you. Although being the only child of a man as reputed as your father... I don't know why I'm surprised. You're strong. I admire that."
Flushing harder, even as she tried to keep it under wraps, Morana cleared her throat. She'd never received any kind of compliment on anything besides her intelligence. And getting one now, about something so rooted in who she was, was unsettling, to say the least.
Ready to change the topic, she took a deep breath and –
"Do you live here?"
– wanted to disappear into thin air.
Amara choked a little on her juice, her eyes widening before she burst out laughing, the sound soft but genuine. "With Tristan? Good lord, no!”
It bothered Morana that she relaxed at that.
Amara continued chuckling. “That man is territorial about his space. Very territoria
l. I once entered his room without knocking, he almost glared the life out of me!"
Everything inside Morana stilled with the information.
She had entered his room without permission yesterday. She had stood, right on the edge of his space, and he'd seen her. Except he hadn't glared. He'd been affected.
Words, his words, from weeks ago filled her mind.
'I have territory that is mine. Don’t ever invade it.’
Had those just been words in an attempt to assert his control as she'd thought, or something more?
Amara's voice broke her out of her thoughts.
"Tristan doesn't allow people into his space. Everyone who knows him knows that."
Morana blinked, still reeling from questions about the incredibly baffling man. "Then why did he let me, of all people, stay here?" Why had he insisted that she stay? Why had he growled like that when Dante had been ready to offer her his apartment?
Amara's eyes sharpened slightly, a smile on her lips. "It's curious, isn't it?"
Morana stayed silent. Amara shook her head. "So, to answer your question, no, I don't live here. But I live nearby."
Her curiosity piqued. "You don't live in Tenebrae?"
Morana saw Amara's eyes shadow as she looked away, out at the view. An air of pensiveness hung around her shoulders as she sighed, the sigh wrenched from deep in her soul.
"I can visit my family there, but I haven't been allowed to stay."
Interesting choice of words.
"Why?" Morana asked before she could stop herself.
Amara looked at Morana, her dark eyes pained, carrying dark burdens even as her lips smiled wryly. "Some things are better left unanswered, Morana. My home is there. My mother still serves the Maroni household. My roots, everything I am, everyone that I love - it's all there. But I'm cursed not to stay."
Morana blinked, feeling her heart ache for the woman. Amara had a home, a loving place where she could never live. Morana lived in one place but didn't have a home. And in that moment, she felt the woman's pain.
