“The prince murdered Gil right in front of me,” I said flatly. “When he woke up again, and revealed he was a V addict, we realized he was in transition. Fighting him physically wasn’t an option, of course, so I turned to magic. By some miracle, I remembered a spell that I’d read about in Kindreth’s journals. I forced Gil to exchange blood with me and recite words of intention. Just as I’d hoped, it formed a link between us and helped him resist the bloodlust. In a lot of ways, it’s similar to what I shared with the Unseelie Court, but it’s also deeper than that. For lack of a better way to describe it, he feels like… family. Fitting, really, considering he didn’t get a choice in the matter.”
This time, I expected Finn’s silence. I gave him a wry, bitter smile and tipped my glass back, finishing the last dregs of the whiskey. “Don’t worry, you don’t need to say anything. I’m judging me, too.”
“That’s not what I’m doing,” he said. I cocked my head in a wordless question, and the vulnerability in Finn’s eyes made my brows draw together. He paused one more time, as though he were gathering courage. Then he raised his golden eyes to mine and began, more impassioned than I’d ever seen him, “Does—”
The front door opened at that same moment, and Bella O’Connell came through, followed by four other women I recognized from my years of serving here.
The sight of Ian’s wife seemed to cast my mind in shades of gray. Hunching my shoulders, I reached across the table and took a drink from Finn’s, then set it down with a hard thud. I felt the weight of his gaze on me, but I pretended not to notice. The honey-sweet tones of Bella’s voice drifted toward our booth, and I couldn’t stop myself from glancing at her again. The humans settled at one of the round tables placed in the center of the room. Two of them had red-rimmed eyes and another placed a box of tissues next to the salt and pepper shakers.
Ariel turned from the bar holding four waters in her hands, and she noticed my come here gesture. She approached our booth, her head tilted in that distinctly fae way. Once she was close enough I asked under my breath, “What’s going on over there?”
The faerie’s pert nose wrinkled with obvious dislike. “Oh, that’s a support group Bella O’Connell started for the widows of Granby. They come here every Thursday, get absolutely wasted, and leave a pile of pocket change as a tip.”
“Classy.”
“Very. Are you sure you want to come back to work?” Ariel didn’t wait for a response; Bella was trying to get her attention, waving her hand so hard that the gold bracelet she wore moved like a flag.
Ariel had barely reached the table when Ian’s widow began rattling off her order. Listening to her voice caused a visceral reaction in me, like flipping a light switch. I couldn’t sit there anymore. The restless, jittery sensation racing through my veins was all-too familiar—it started happening after my parents’ deaths. The feeling came back when Damon disappeared. Then I’d gone to the crossroads and made a deal with a demon, making it unbearable.
The best way I’d learned to cope with it was by running.
“Would you mind driving me home?” I blurted to Finn.
His only response was to push away from our table and stand. Giving the werewolf a grateful smile, I dropped some cash where Ariel would find it and got to my feet, too. Gretchen was still busy behind the bar, and Bea worked beside her now. Silently promising myself that I would speak to them soon, I moved toward the door.
In doing so, I looked past the table of women again. Bella caught my gaze, and something made her frown. I turned away instantly, aware that I’d probably caught her notice even more now. Finn opened the door for me and stood with his back against it, waiting.
I hurried by, eager to be in the cool air and away from the human who reminded me of the lives I’d ruined. I may not have stopped her husband’s heart, but Laurie had done it for my sake. Ian’s blood was on my hands, and if Bella O’Connell ever found out, I wasn’t sure what would happen.
But I didn’t want to find out.
I’d parked alongside the curb. As I headed for the van, I couldn’t help a glance at the place where Gil had been smoking. The sidewalk was empty, a forlorn leaf skittering across it. He must’ve returned to Adam’s shop. Finn opened the passenger door for me, his nostrils flaring. I wondered if he was trying to pinpoint Gil’s location by scent. Stubborn, overprotective wolf.
Later, I wouldn’t remember getting in, or Finn doing the same. All the liquor I’d consumed felt like a pleasant warmth inside my brain. With a drowsy sigh, I slumped against the seat and closed my eyes.
They shot open again when Finn turned the key in the ignition and the radio blared at a deafening volume. His hand flew to the knob and spun it faster than I could track. Finn didn’t turn it back on, and I didn’t ask him to—the whiskey had quieted those voices I’d been so desperate to drown out earlier. Most of them, at least. The werewolf steered us in the direction of home, and I rested my temple against the window, thinking of the last time he and I had been alone together. Before the Seelie Court, before Belanor, we’d faced each other in a storm. Sometimes that night felt like a thousand years ago, and then the regret would hit me as if it had happened yesterday.
“You haven’t asked me about it,” I said dully.
Finn didn’t ask what I meant; he didn’t need to. It had been hovering around us, haunting us, since the moment I’d sat down at his table. Every time I thought of those moments, I could picture his face perfectly, remember the light of pleading in his beautiful eyes. I could feel the vicious bite of the wind and see the snowflakes swirling all around in a desperate frenzy. Don’t leave me again.
“You just got home. You need to rest,” Finn rumbled. The proximity of his voice made the image dissipate.
Relief bloomed in my chest. I worried it would show on my face, so I looked away, gazing out the window as if I hadn’t driven along this road a thousand times. The whiskey continued working its way through me, but it wasn’t enough. I could still feel the icy breath of memory upon my neck. Collith. Belanor. Demons.
“What will you do for the rest of the day?” Finn asked. The fact that he spoke at all was a dead giveaway of his concern for me. He could probably smell my rising tension.
Contemplating his question, I watched a bird soar over the trees. It was hardly more than a dark speck against the gray sky. Just before it faded from sight, Nym’s innocent voice came to me, the edges of it tinged with a broken sort of hope. What’s the point of having wings if I can’t fly?
I didn’t want to think about wings. I didn’t want to think about flying. I didn’t want to think about anything.
“Forget,” I answered finally, hearing Nym in my voice, now, instead of my head. Turning away from the sky, I looked at the road ahead with heavy-lidded eyes. “I’m going to forget.”
And that was exactly what I did.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
By the time I fell into bed, I’d finished half a bottle of vodka from Collith’s liquor cart.
I thought Finn had been drinking, too, but he either held his liquor extremely well or he’d only been sipping from his cup, rather than the generous gulps I’d done, because he entered the room on feet far steadier than my own. Moments after I’d fallen across the mattress, I felt him tug the covers over my lower half.