“Mr. Time knows you’re leaving campus.” I cut him off. “And don’t lie to me.”
His lips part as if he’s debating what to say, but the no lying rule is throwing him for a loop. Lord, I love these boys, but there’s some work to be done...
I wave my hand. “Let’s bring Van into this conversation. Lord knows I’ve got questions for him too.”
“When did you get so bossy?”
“Since I fell in love with you,” I whip over my shoulder, refusing to be provoked, “and you need bossing.”
When I open the door to Van’s room, he isn’t there.
“What do you think the odds are that he’s somewhere he’s not supposed to be?” I demand.
“He wouldn’t leave campus without me,” he says. “He’s not stupid.”
I purse my lips at that thought.
He frowns. “Don’t be mad at him.”
“Why not?” I demand. “You two are sneaking around, not telling us what you’re doing, putting yourselves in danger--”
He cages me suddenly against the wall, bracing one hand to either side of my head. The two of us are close together, his lips intimately near mine as if he would kiss me if we weren’t fighting.
“Listen,” he says softly. “It’s not Van’s fault. He’s just trying to help me. Don’t be mad at him.”
Something about his tone catches me. God, these guys really love each other. My own tone is a little softer when I ask, “So I should be mad at you, then?”
“Yeah,” he says. “But maybe listen before you tear my head off?”
“I’m listening.” I frown at him. “And I’ve never torn your head off.”
Even when they hurt me, I’ve always forgiven them.
He doesn’t move away from me, and as mad as I am, I can’t help feeling something when his body is so close to mine. He smells good, like he always does.
“Iz,” he murmurs, something flashing through his eyes, “when you’re disappointed in me, it hurts worse than anyone else trying to tear me apart.”
He means it, and it makes my heart lurch. I’d accuse him of trying to soften me up, but he’s already plunging on.
“When we were in the museum, Van and I used that painting so I could ask about my sister,” he says.
My eyes widen.
“I know, I know,” he says. “Herastaphus told us that my sister was murdered.”
“I’m so sorry,” I murmur.
“I always thought it was my fault that she died, that I was driving recklessly and I killed her--but as much of an asshole as I am, that didn’t sound like me.” He lets out a short, bitter laugh, the kind that’s so full of self-loathing that I want to hug him and protect him from himself.
“But no,” he goes on. “She was dating a vampire or something, and I don’t know if it was the same one or different ones but in the painting…I saw them make the car accelerate until it crashed. They were just messing around, they said they didn’t mean for it to go so far.”
His eyes turn glossy as he replays what he saw in the picture, his jaw tensing with rage, and my heart breaks for him. He seems to force himself to continue, “They altered our memories. You know all this time, I thought her death was my fault? That’s what my parents think too, why they think I’m…”
He stumbles, and I know he doesn’t want to admit what his parents think of him out loud, not even to me. Worst of all, I know he thinks the same thing of himself.
I reach out to take his hand, not sure how he’ll react when he’s so angry, but I can’t be here and not touch him anymore. His fingers clutch around mine like I’m a lifeline, even though he doesn’t react otherwise, and my heart lurches in relief.
“It turns out I can get revenge. We went to a club back home where the vamps hang out.”
Fear clutches my chest. The godslayers are looking for a reason to end us, and Aiden has every right to want justice for his sister, but the timing couldn’t be worse. They might use the vamps as an excuse to kill us and return to their real lives.
“That sounds dangerous,” I warn him. Maybe the gods shouldn’t seek revenge. Maybe that’s one more thing that, along with the rest of our mortal lives, we have to leave behind. But at least we’re moving into a future together, if we can stay alive. I try to figure out how to tell Aiden all that while respecting his feelings.
“It’s very dangerous,” Van says from the end of the hallway.
We glance up at him. He’s soaked from head to toe, his hair plastered to his forehead. Somehow, when I would look bedraggled and half-drowned, he still looks sexy.
“Those vamps didn’t like us sniffing around,” he says. “They came into my house. They killed my servants.”
His cold Van mask is in full effect, talking about what’s his. The look in his eyes is murderous.
Is that the face of a man possessed by a god?
“Van,” I say. “I’m so sorry.”
“We’re going to go do some killing,” he says. “End this for once and all. They killed innocent people. Aiden’s sister. My servants. They were good people, Iz.”
Van and Aiden’s eyes meet, and then Aiden nods tightly. Turning to me, Aiden promises, “We’ll be back.”
“No,” I tell him. “We’re going together.”
“That’s not a good idea,” Aiden says. “You won’t like what happens next.”
“No, but we’re a family, you idiot,” I snap at him. His eyes widen. “I’m on your side. We’re all going.”
Van crosses the room and leans dangerously close to me. “You’re not going to like what I do there, Iz. You might not like me very much.”
I reach out and grab his sodden t-shirt in one hand, fisting the fabric between my fingers. “I already know you’re a dangerous, possessive, rich asshole, Van, and it’s never stopped me from loving you before.”
His lips part, his eyes narrowing to tell me off, but I jerk him toward me and cover his lips with mine.
We’re all going to go, but I know one way to cool these two off so they can start thinking first.
At first, he resists, and then he gives in, kissing me back. Aiden starts to pull back, but I grab his narrow hips, reeling him against me, and he sways into my touch easily. The two of them sandwich me against the wall, pressing kisses into my hair, into my neck.
Aiden is gentle. But Van is furious, angry, and the two of us trade wild kisses.
The two of us stumble into Van’s bedroom, since it’s right behind us.
“You don’t have to be on your own, you know,” I tell Van, right before I push him down on the bed. “We’ll always help you. Not just Aiden. Trust me.”
“I do.” He frowns up at me.
I straddle him. “If you trusted me--if you really trusted me--you wouldn’t be afraid I might not like you anymore just because you have a dark side. I’ve got a dark side too.”
His eyes crinkle at the corners, and he reaches up to stroke his hand over my cheek. “You don’t have any darkness in you, Iz. We all know you weren’t the one who destroyed those buildings--”