Page 22 of Vanish Into Light

“Beck?” Tris asked. “You’re just calling him that?”

“That’s his name. What do you guys call him?”

“Becket,” Lance said.

“Shitbag,” Tris offered.

“You’re both giant children,” Gallo said, and resumed chopping. “Go turn the heat back on, these will be ready in a minute.”

Tris muttered under his breath, but complied.

Lance watched Gallo’s small, pleased smile, and felt a sudden, intense pang behind his breastbone. They had seemed so unlikely at first: the gruff, career Knight who rarely cracked a grin; and the starry-eyed, worshipful rookie, enthralled by his idol and too soft for Gold Company. But Gallo had proved tough as nails, despite his outward appearances, and Tris was utterly gone on the kid: like gooey melted chocolate on a rare hot day. They fit; they were a unit now: comfortable, working in tandem, always anticipating what the other needed.

He’d never wanted that, until Rose. And then he’d thought, after she’d finally warmed to him…

But she was sharing a room with Beck. And Beck was…

Beckwasfucking with him. Trying to get him off balance.

He waspunishinghim, Lance realized, and wanted to smack himself.Of course. Becket wasn’t fascinated by him, wasn’t – wasn’t…interested. He was trying to twist his head around, so that he could steal Rose away.

Not that Rose was a possession to be stolen…

Ugh.

“Have some shepherd’s pie when it’s ready,” Gallo said in response to whatever his face was doing. “You’ll feel better.”

SIX

Gavin was right, Rose thought. This housewashaunted. It felt that way, at any rate.

She’d pulled the musty coverlet back on the bed and lay now on clean, if faded sheets, staring up at the canopy above. It reminded her of Beck’s canopied bed in their old home…and it didn’t remind her of that at all. This was a vast house, meant to hold many people, but it was only the seven of them. Seven of them and the rain: its hiss, and rattle, and pounding.

Even three floors up, she swore she could sense the place in the basement where Beck had been sucked down to hell. The echo of the rift there. She wondered if any of the wraiths who’d come through that night lingered still, hidden away under sagging beds, hugging the scabrous wallpaper. Watching her now.

The door clicked open quietly, and Beck entered the room, as graceful as ever. She found she was growing used to the wings, the way he kept them folded up like a cloak. They were a part of him now, just like the hair, and the horns, and the tail.

He closed the door, and then turned, and waited a moment, studying her. With those golden eyes. They hadn’t used to glow, but they’d always been gold; always been smoked, hard-to-see-through windows into all the twists and tangles that lay beneath.

She supposed she’d forgotten a little of that.

His head tilted a fraction. “You’re angry with me.”

She pushed up so she was sitting, legs drawn beneath her. “No. Why would you think that?”

His lips twitched into a faint smile. “I’ve relegated your soldier down the hall.”

She frowned. “So? Where else would he be?” Inwardly, her pulse quickened. Five years ago, even at the height of their connection, when it had sometimes felt as if they were one being, Beck had usually been six or seven thoughts ahead of her. She hadn’t always known exactly what he was thinking or planning until it was underway. She’d trusted him, though.

She did still, despite yesterday’s misgivings.

He came to sit on the edge of the bed, sideways with one leg pulled up, so that they were face-to-face. She had no idea how he managed to adjust his wings so they still resembled a cloak, but he did. He could manage almost anything.

He smiled at her again, softer and warmer. Reached to touch her face, so gently, tracing her chin, and then hooking a crooked finger beneath it. The touch left her swaying in closer to him. Close enough to feel the heat he radiated now.

“Rosie. Sweetheart,” he said, his purr threaded through his voice, and, oh, it was the same low, velvet tone, but the purr added another dimension to the way it left pleasant chills chasing up and down her back. “I’ve been gone five years. He has led you, supported you, comforted you – in bed and out of it.”

She sucked in a breath. She’d known that he’d known, but he hadn’t said it quite like this. She tried to turn her head, cheeks burning – but he held her, gentle but firm.

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