Page 14 of Oh, Sacred Dark
He stared at the treats in front of them as he sat down. The cup of hot chocolate was massive, marshmallows already half-melted, spices sprinkled on top. He pressed on the croissant lightly, and it crunched under his touch. He could smell the warm butter scent of it, was overwhelmed for a second by the richness, the comfort of it.
Roman straightened when he noticed Cross watching him carefully. “Looks good,” he said, although ‘good’ was too small a word to describe what he had in front of him.
Cross appeared to understand, though. “Different from before, huh?”
Roman nodded slightly. He could barely take his eyes off the food but didn’t dare taste it yet. Out of the depths of his chest, words tumbled out. “How can you stand to sit here with me? Don’t you hate me?”
Cross made a surprised sound. “Hate you? Why on Earth would you think that?”
Roman pressed his trembling hands together under the table. “You were…you did so much. Put yourself in danger for months to expose them, and I…I barely did anything. I don’t deserve to be here.”
There was a long stretch of silence. Roman didn’t dare see what expression was on Cross’s face. When the Dom spoke, his voice was forceful, if quiet, his words shaking Roman to the core. “Roman…I think you have a terribly warped view of what happened. Do you not realise that I couldn’t have done any of that without you? You were the one who figured out the safe’s combination and gave it to me. You were the one who unlocked the doors. You were the one who tracked the members of the inner circle so we knew exactly when to strike. You…youlived with themso you could do that.”
Roman jerked at the reminder. There always seemed to be a flood of memories ready to take over. “I watched them do so many things without stopping them. I—”
“And you think I didn’t? Ididthose things too. I wanted that power too, in the beginning. You were the only one who resisted from the very start, and you thinkIshould hateyou?”
Roman gaped at how twisted that version of events was. Cross had been the one to go to the High Council with his suspicions about what had been going on in the inner circle. The one who had liaised with the authorities governing American witches.
Roman would have done nothing without him. Would have stayed there, complacent, letting the deaths and the pain continue. “I wouldn’t have done anything if you hadn’t asked me. I would have never…”
“You’re wrong,” Cross stated, voice low but strong. “You were so close to doing something—it’s why I recruited you. It might not have felt like it, but you were.”
Roman shook his head. Cross had seen what he wanted to see. All Roman had ever been was a worm writhing uselessly in the mud.
Cross sighed into a long silence. “Try the hot chocolate,” he said eventually.
Roman followed the suggestion, closing his eyes and almost moaning at the taste. The sweetness was cut with spice and cinnamon, but it still wasn’t overloaded with different tastes, the rich chocolate shining through.
Cross was smiling at Roman when he opened his eyes. “Good, right?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Cross shrugged and gestured to the croissant. “Wait until you taste that.”
The pastry, of course, was just as good. Roman wanted to rush to Milly and ask for the recipe, but what would he even do with it?
Cross interrupted his thoughts. “You’re actually doing well? I wouldn’t be surprised if it was hard to adjust to such a different place. And…sorry if this is rude. But you don’t have the council-appointed Dom anymore, do you?”
Roman managed to school his face, keeping it clear of the dread that flared at those words. He’d lied to Cross by telling him he’d accepted the state Dom to help him out during the trial. “No, but I don’t need to Drop often. I’ll find someone when I do.”
Cross nodded and didn’t offer himself as an option, which Roman was glad about. He had been given to Tyler, but he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to deny the Dom in front of him.
Also, selfishly, he didn’t want to see what Cross was capable of as a Dom when he saw what Roman was really like.
Roman focused on savouring what he was eating, letting the quiet settle for a while.
Cross was smiling at him when Roman finished. Even as a Dom he had kind eyes, a soft green that always seemed devoid of judgment, long lashes giving him an almost delicate appearance despite his masculine features—his shaven head, his thick neck, the gold chain that glinted there. His parents were from Puerto Rico, Roman recalled, although it had been a long time since they had died.
Probably for the best, considering what the coven had become.
Cross walked him out when they wrapped up, both of them waving at Milly as they exited the bakery.
“Thank you for sitting with me,” Cross said.
The absurdity of that sentence was a bit too much. Roman just nodded slightly and looked away.
“I’ll leave you to your walk, then. Have a good rest of your day.” Cross waved politely.
