Page 54 of Veiled Yearning

“We all did,” retorts Frederick, scowling. He nudges the Custodian’s head with his foot. “Which is a significant problem we need to discuss. Along with where Sam actually is.”

“She’s not mad at you.” Cait gives me a meaningful look. “She was scared.”

“But I’m fine.”

Cait sighs heavily. “Yes. But she didn’t know that. Have any of you explained about Titus’s blood to her?”

In answer to our silence, Cait continues. “Right. Chiara didn’t know you’d be okay. All she knew was you were hurt, and our blood wouldn’t heal it. She was scared, Gav. Of losing you.”

Oh.

Dammit.

“Think about it,” Cait adds gently. She comes over and puts her hand on my arm. “What if Chiara was hurt? What if you thought she was dying?”

My heart wrenches, and I actually gasp at the pain of it. “I couldn’t—”

“Go see her.” Frederick holds my gaze, understanding. “The rest of us will discuss the plan moving forward. I’ll look for Sam. I hadn’t checked on him before this; only after he called, and the Custodian’s disguise was good enough to throw me off. Now I should be able to see him.”

I’m torn. My heart is telling me to go to Chiara, to fix this, but there’s my duty to the Sentinels…

“It’s okay.” Larkin gives me a quick nod. “We can handle this. Go see your woman.”

Before he finishes speaking, I’m speeding out the door.

I run upstairs, taking the steps five at a time, and I’m in front of Chiara’s bedroom in a matter of seconds. No hesitation; I rap at the door and say, “Chiara. I’m coming in. I need to see you.”

But I turn the doorknob slowly, giving her a chance to tell me no. No matter how badly I want to see her, I won’t take away her choices.

Her voice comes through the door, brittle and rough. “Okay.”

I come in to find Chiara with her back to me, facing the dresser, her shoulders rigid with tension. She’s fussing with the shells and small carved sculptures arranged on top of it—things I ordered for her so she’d feel more at home.

For a moment, I just watch her, feeling terrible.

She lines up the items, trying to space them out perfectly; then goes back over them again, making the tiniest of adjustments. But her fingers are trembling, so she keeps bumping them, knocking them out of alignment, forcing her to start all over again.

Quietly, I say, “Chiara. Can you look at me?”

“No.” Her voice is so tiny. “I need to get this right.”

Oh. This ache in my chest.

I approach Chiara slowly, noting the fine lines on her forehead and bracketing her mouth. Her lips are red with blood, her small white teeth digging in.

Once I’m next to her, I place my hand over hers. “Gorgeous, it’s okay.”

“It’s not.” She turns to me, and her chin is quivering. “I mess everything up.”

“Ah, Chiara. You don’t.”

“I do.” Her eyes brim with tears. “Hiding in Maine. Making everyone wait. And I… I almost got you killed. I should go away. So I can’t hurt anyone else.”

“Absolutely not.” I wrap my arm around her shoulder, drawing her to my side. Then I start meticulously arranging her little shells and creatures, making sure they’re perfect. “You do not mess everything up. Not in the slightest.”

“Gav.” She peers up at me, looking so small and vulnerable, it nearly breaks my heart. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I wasn’t really mad. I was scared.”

“I know.” I gather Chiara into my arms, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Is the dresser okay? Does it look right?”

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