“I don’t like it either, Bartholomew.”
“You shouldn’t have pulled the men—”
“You shouldn’t have let him live.” If Constance had more than a few bites of her food, tonight could have ended much differently. Then nothing would stop me from cutting his throat to the bone. “I’m going to kill him—and you aren’t going to stop me.”
Bartholomew sat on the couch, his eyes still as if he didn’t believe a word I said. “Your memory seems to have crippled in old age, so let me remind you—”
“I haven’t forgotten and I will always be thankful, but that was then, and this is now. I have a freak-show on my hands that’s a threat to my family. He’s not going to stop until I kill him—”
“Or until he gets his angel back—a much simpler solution.”
“Not going to happen—”
“The plan was to get your daughter back and live happily ever after…or whatever bullshit way people describe it. It’s not my fault you fucked up that pretty picture by bringing Constance into the mix. I’m not responsible for the events that have unfolded here, and I will not destroy a business relationship because of your stupidity.”
My jaw clenched. “You said you would kill him—”
“If he broke the truce—and he still hasn’t.”
“You motherfucker—”
“You can keep adding these goddamn addendums, but it’s not going to fix the problem. You know what will—”
“Killing him.”
He closed his eyes in aggravation. “We go down that route, we open up a whole new mess of problems. He’s got a lot of allies in the shadows, got a lot of money to throw at his problems, has a lot of crazy that would defeat our logic. I know you’re worked up right now so you can’t think straight, but you know I’m right.”
I was tempted to grab that bottle and slam it over his head.
“He’s expecting it, and if he’s expecting it, then that means he’s prepared. And if he’s prepared, even if we win, we’re going to lose men, resources, and our guard. Our enemies will take ample opportunity to hit us because we can’t win two wars at once. You know I’m right.”
My hands clenched tightly.
“I’m not willing to risk everything I’ve built—not even for you.”
“I don’t need your help, Bartholomew. I can do this alone—”
“Sure, you might be able to kill him. But what about everyone else? What about the other eleven demons that have lost their brethren? The others that are loyal to him—even beyond the grave? There is no scenario where you get everything you want, Benton. You go after him, and I tell Forneus you went against my wishes, because I’m going to protect my ass before I protect yours. Maybe if you hadn’t broken your vow, things would be different…but they aren’t.”
All I could do was give a subtle shake of my head.
“There’s only one option if you want this to end.”
“I’m not giving her up.”
He inhaled a deep breath then slowly let it out. “If this woman loves you and Claire as much as you love her, then she would do the right thing. She wouldn’t put you two through this. She’s using you for safety, and she’ll let you destroy yourselves to protect her—”
“She’s the only reason my daughter is still alive. She can use me all she wants—she’s earned it.”
He gave me another bored stare, as if I was just some idiot. “But is she worth Claire’s life, Benton? Because that’s what it’s going to come down to…eventually.”
“He doesn’t care about Claire.”
“But he knows you do.”
Fifteen
Constance
When I opened my eyes, my vision was steady. The wallpaper had blush-colored roses on dark vines. The crown molding along the ceiling was a dull gold. The chandelier that hung over the bed was off, so the room was dark except for the faint light coming through the closed curtains.
My arms were tucked under the blankets, my fingertips against the sheets. I was flat on my back, and I wondered how long I’d been that way. The second I was conscious, I was aware that I had to pee, so I must have been out for some time.
A man’s silhouette was in the chair beside me, enormous shoulders and strong arms on the wooden armrests of the chair. He was slumped over slightly, as if he’d fallen asleep at my bedside. I blinked several times before the picture became crisp, before my mind became sharp enough to understand my surroundings. “Benton…?” My voice came out like sandpaper against a rock.
He stirred at the sound of my voice, his eyes opening and instantly clear. He took me in for a breath before he scooted to the edge of his seat and closer to my bed. His blue eyes were hard and pained, a bit broken.
My hand reached for his, and the second I gripped it, I was hit with the most relaxing feeling I’d ever known. Everything was better. All the aches that I’d noticed once I was conscious were gone.
The high was back—the good one.
My memory was blurry, and I couldn’t piece together the events from the night before. I could hardly believe I was alive because the dose I ingested must have been lethal. The last coherent memory I possessed was collapsing at the dining table and asking Claire to call her father. She must have gotten through to him and he came to my rescue. “Claire? Is she—?”
“She’s fine. With Bleu.”
“She didn’t eat any of it—”
He shook his head. “She’s a little scared…but that’s it.”
“Oh…thank god.”
His hand cocooned mine. Warmth radiated to my fingers like I’d been frozen a moment ago.
“What happened…?” My voice still broke, like I hadn’t had water for days.
“When I came to the house, you were gone. You’d wandered the streets for a while. Finally found you in an alleyway. You were a little bloody from hitting your head, had scraped knees and a couple cuts on your arms, and were dirty from falling in puddles along your way. I got you to the doctor, and they pumped your stomach.”
“Would I have died if you hadn’t gotten to me?”
He shook his head. “The doctor said it was a fatal amount to anyone else—but you’d developed a big tolerance.”
“I guess that makes sense…”
“Do you remember anything?”
I shook my head. “Just trees…the demon…images here and there.”
“You didn’t recognize me.”
“Because I can’t see when I’m like that…or at least, can’t see with my eyes.”
He dipped his head slightly, his eyes on the comforter.
“What?”
He gave a subtle shake of his head. “I can’t believe you had to go through that…however many times.”
I squeezed his hand.
He squeezed it back.
“Did…did he come into the house?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t understand—”