Page 70 of Dance With Death

“You’ve changed everything inside me, too, and that’s frightening. Wanting to kill people who hurt you—that bloody terrifies me.”

“What?” I step back, but I’ve seen evidence of this desire to kill to protect. Clear evidence. “You would’ve genuinely hurt those shifters in the park that evening?”

Rowan walks towards the edge of the rooftop, the toes of his black shoes over the edge. “That day with Wes that nobody talks about? We were here. If Leif hadn’t stopped me, I might’ve actually pushed him off the roof.” He looks over his shoulder. “Wes assaulted a girl, and she was forced to leave Thornwood and keep the secret. There wasn’t any justice. I heard him joking about what happened, and it hit at the dark heart of me. A few taunts made him follow me up here, and we were alone. The guy bullied me for years and wasn’t scared. I expect Wes thought he’d give me a beating.”

Rowan’s messy hair falls forward as he leans over to stare at the ground, and my heart leaps into my mouth. Instinctively, I lurch forward and grab Rowan’s arm.

“What are you doing? If you fall, the consequences would be dire.”

The storm now fills his eyes—prompted by the memory or more? He seizes my upper arms, fingers digging hard into me. “If the old Rowan considered killing someone over injustice for a girl he barely spoke to, this new Rowan won’t hesitate to end somebody who harms you. If you don’t want the shadows to whisper to me, don’t leave me alone with them, Violet.”

There’s a desperation in Rowan’s expression before his mouth meets mine. Rowan winds my hair around his hand, the other arm around my waist, holding me tightly as if I might be the one to fall from the roof. The captivating darkness within his kiss instantly melds with mine again, as I’m pulled away from the world into the us I backed away from.

I thread my fingers into his hair, too, as the Rowan I rejected talks to me in a way my body listens to, through each sweep of his tongue, each fingertip pressing against me, as more than our souls and magic meet. The resonance that I once refused to hear becomes louder as our hearts synchronize, and, although the searing kiss explodes into something rough and intense, this somehow soothes away the friction caused by our recent distance.

We’re different but were always the same underneath. I never wanted to rely on anybody, but we can’t avoid this new need for each other. Our emotional bond, the one Rowan claims will help me when I’m in distress, is as significant as the one caused by fate.

Did I consciously reject him after he used the shadows against me? I gave Rowan the shadows when I gave him myself, yet I’ve missed how they fill Rowan with confusion and fear, rather than him relishing the power they bestowed.

I break away and move Rowan’s fingers from my hair and grip. “In order to alleviate your concerns, I want to reiterate that I love you, Rowan. That has not changed despite your past decision to stop my heart to prevent me from killing Viktor.”

He blows air into his pinker cheeks. “You’re such a romantic.”

“You believe that is romantic?” I frown.

“No, Violet. That’s not possible for you.” Rowan places his lips on my forehead and inhales. “I love you in a way that’s intense and frightening because you’re intense and frightening.”

I pull back. “I frighten you?”

“Not you. The situation. What if the world burns, and I lose you in the fire?”

“I’m unsure that would be the way this war is fought—should one occur. From past experience, burning things causes too much destruction, and may leave few spoils for the victor.” I pause. “Besides, fire won’t kill a hybrid.”

Rowan shakes his head, giving a small smile. “I’m scared that something will happen to you that I can’t fix.”

“That is a fear I have about you too.”

“Would you ever try to fix me if the worst happened?” he asks quietly.

My jaw slackens. “If you died? No.”

Rowan looks at a spot behind me and nods. Is that the truth? If I’m to keep my bonded witch safe and alive, what would the vampire hybrid do on instinct if Rowan dies?

“I would like to go to your bedroom,” I say hastily.

“To avoid the conversation?”

“I think we’ve said enough,” I say, holding his steady gaze. “Even for me.”

25

VIOLET

I heard nothing from Dorian until this morning, and he has behaved as expected by interviewing Dashiell without me present. The shifter is too unwell to attempt any escape—or to speak to me. How convenient. Now that Dashiell has experienced Dorian’s full hybrid force, the shifter would indicate his lack of intelligence if he did attempt to leave. My father intends to remove Dashiell from the human authorities to his own location as soon as he can but is vague whether I can speak to the shifter before that occurs.

Dorian does pass on his findings. The house where the shifters allegedly kept Holly is located several hours away from town. I’d expected an isolated building where screaming girls couldn’t be heard, but the house is located in a quiet suburb. Dashiell claims he only lived at the place for around a week, after Sam told him he could get laboring work.

He isn’t local, and still refuses to say which pack he belongs to, but his Scottish accent narrows that down. Dorian won’t look any further into which pack issue unless an elder contacts him and has offered Dashiell protection in exchange for answers about Sam and his activities. Dashiell claims he left his pack several years ago but won’t explain why.

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