Page 17 of Dance with the Devil

That’s the caffeine withdrawal. It was one thing, teasing him when all I ever saw him down were energy drinks. It only took until yesterday morning for the caffeine withdrawal to kick in. Pair that with no food and Cross did his best to hide how miserable he was until he slipped up and I finally caught on.

There was nothing we could do about it, and if there really is someone watching us on the other side of that camera, they have a front-row seat to see how their actions are affecting us. I mean, we’re prisoners. That much is a given.

I just wish I knewwhy.

It doesn’t matter that I can guess. Damien might have done his best to keep me shielded from the criminal side of his Family, but a nosy younger sister can’t truly be kept ignorant when she’s as curious and insatiable as I was.

Now look at me. All I wanted was for Damien to realize that I wasn’t a little girl, that I grew up, that I finally found a man who I thought could make me happy… and now we’re both stuck behind a cell, hungry and hurting and pretending like everything is going to be.

That’s why I left Cross have his lie.

His head doesn’t hurt? Okay. I don’t see him wince when the overly bright light flashes a certain way? Sure. That wasn’t his stomach rumbling? Well, maybe he’s right. It could’ve been mine.

“Did you at least get some sleep?”

I’m prepared for him to lie about that, too. It wouldn’t be such a surprise. I knew before we woke up together in this cage that Cross suffered from insomnia. With the bright lights on around the clock, making it impossible to tell how much time is passing, or for either of to fall asleep without pulling the blanket up and over our heads and hoping for the best, I knew he’d struggle a lot more than me when it came to getting a couple of hours down.

But something happened that first night. When going to sleep seemed a much better option than spending another minute longer thinking about hungry I was—especially since the hunger’s only gotten so much worse since then—I curled up on the cot and regretted every fucking decision I ever made that led me to being trapped in a cage of cinderblock walls with a glass door.

It’s my fault. No one’s had to tell me otherwise. Being Genevieve Libellula… that’s why I’m here. And Cross… Iwouldn’t be surprised if his slight indifference turned to hate that my family name is the reason he got captured with me.

But that night… he didn’t just sit on the floor, his back against the wall, keeping his distance like he’d done since I woke up. Instead, he climbed onto the cot next to me, wrapping me up in his arms, and holding me tight as he promised again that he’d keep me safe.

That he’d do anything to make sure I got out of here.

Was it his fervent promises that lulled me enough that I actually succumbed to sleep? Or was it his possessive hold, squeezing me to him, making me feel like he actually gave a shit?

I needed him to care then. I needed to know I had someone on my side.

So I slept curled up in the arms of the man who insisted we could only ever be friends, and when I woke up later and found him sleeping peacefully, still clinging to me, I thought that I might have found something to cling to.

Cross da Silva.

We slept the same way last night; if we could even call that last night when neither of us have any idea what time is. Between Cross’s headache and the hunger pangs growing so much worse on our second day, I escaped this nightmare into a fitful sleep that I only managed because he was there with me.

He was gone again this morning. I don’t realize how much I’ve come to rely on the warmth of his body up against mine until I woke up just now and he was already standing up, pacing the lengths of the cell, unable to stay still.

He’s lost some of the color he had yesterday. I frown. “Okay. But did you sleep well?”

A tiny spark finds its way to his dull dark eyes. “Yeah. Because I got to hold you.”

That… that’s not a lie.

I offer him a weak smile. “You telling me that we finally figured out a cure for your insomnia? Toss your ass in a cell and you’ll finally sleep.”

He pauses in his pacing. After giving me a scrutinizing look, he heads over to the cot, dropping down into a low crouch in front of me. “I’d go a fucking hundred years without another hour of sleep if it meant I could break you out of here.”

A lump lodges in my throat. “I know,” I whisper.

“And it’s not this hellhole. I promise you that. It’s you, butterfly. Holding you in my arms… keeping you close? It’s such a goddamn dream, I can’t help but fall asleep because I know that it won’t last. You and me…” Cross shudders out a breath. “If I had the chance, I would’ve done everything differently. In case this ends badly… I want you to know that.”

I reach out, cupping his cheek. Last night, he was so warm. Today? There’s a chill to his skin that wasn’t there before. “We’re going to get out of here, Cross.”

We have to. For God’s sake, I’m a Libellula. My brother will come for me. He has the entire East End to command. They’ll find me, and they’ll save me.

We just have to survive long enough for that to happen.

He leans into my hand. “That’s one thing I love about you, Genevieve. You don’t know how to quit. Even when you should.”

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