Page 44 of Cherish

I just wish he’d asked my opinion about more than just a Rothko painting—or, for that matter, told me anything about this. I’ve involved him in every step of the planning for the administrative wing of the Gargoyle Court I’m building in San Diego, from picking an architect to working out the design of the Court to approving the plans, which is the step we’re on now. And I intend to involve him in all the other steps that come along, too.

Or at least I did. Now, standing here, I’m less sure if I should. Not only did he not involve me in any of this, he didn’t even mention that he was doing it. I can’t help wondering why. And I can’t help writing my own scenarios to answer the question.

The fact that none of the scenarios are good doesn’t exactly put my mind at ease. Especially not with everything I’ve been worried about since I talked to my grandparents.

And to him.

He said he isn’t interested in taking over the Vampire Court, but this doesn’t look like someone who isn’t interested. If getting involved in the Court is what he feels like he needs to do, then I support him—of course I support him. But he needs to talk to me, not shut me out. And not feed me lines about never giving up his place at the Gargoyle Court for the vampires.

“Don’t you think you should have run some of this by me?” Jaxon asks, and for a moment I feel like he can read my mind. But then I realize that he feels as betrayed as I do about this. Maybe even more, as this is his legacy, too.

“You’ve been pretty busy playing house over at the Dragon Court,” Hudson answers. “I figured if you wanted to know what was going on here, you’d stop by. Or at least ask about it.”

For a second, it looks like Jaxon is going to take a swing at his brother, but then he just shrugs. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. This place isn’t worth fighting over.”

“Precisely,” Hudson agrees. Which seems like a strange sentiment for a guy who has obviously spent as much time, energy, and money redesigning this place as he has.

Still, ogling the new architecture—and feeling wounded at being left out of any decisions Hudson has made here—isn’t why we came to the Vampire Court. We’ve got bigger things to worry about.

Besides, Hudson and I are fine. He loves me. I love him. He’s my best friend and my mate for eternity. What more could a girl ask for?

Someone who confides in her the way she confides in him?a little voice deep inside me whispers just a little slyly.

But I push it away, shove all the tiny frissons of fear that come with the shrewd question down deep inside myself. Tell myself I’m not being fair, to Hudson or to our relationship.

And then focus on something far more pressing—and far more easily definable.

“Is Mekhi in the crypt?” I ask, as that’s where Hudson, Jaxon, and Izzy were put for their Descents.

Hudson looks surprised by the change of subject, but then his face goes inscrutable. It’s one more thing that makes me beyond frustrated—the inability to read him when he doesn’t want me to—but again I force myself to focus on his answer and not the uncertainty that’s suddenly beating at my insides like a wounded bird.

“I believe your grandmother had him moved to one of the guest suites before she headed back to Ireland.” He fires off a quick text. “Let me find out which one.”

Then he reaches out a hand for mine, and the moment our skin presses together, all the noise inside me quiets. Because despite my worries, despite the fact that something doesn’t feel quite right, the uncertainties fade to the background under the feeling of rightness that comes from being near him. From loving him.

“I really do like what you’ve done with the place,” I say as we head for the door. “It’s incredible.”

Another flash ofsomethingin his eyes that’s gone too quickly for me to identify. “I’m glad.”

His phone dings and, after a quick glance at it, he turns us left down the hallway. “He’s on the third floor, in the east corner,” he says as we head for the nearest staircase.

As we walk, Hudson doesn’t say anything else. And neither do I. Behind us, everyone is talking about different things.

Eden is telling Heather about Mekhi.

Jaxon and Flint are cataloging all the changes—of which there are many—they see along the way.

At least until Hudson passes between the two members of the Vampire Guard the Bloodletter apparently assigned to protect Mekhi and knocks on the door. As we wait for him to answer, I can’t help stealing glimpses at the two guards.

I don’t recognize them from the time we spent captive here, but that doesn’t keep my stomach from tightening anyway. Hudson hasn’t gotten around to changing the uniforms yet—a fact that surprises me, considering all the other changes he’s made—and seeing them again makes it impossible not to think about everything that happened to us here and on the battlefield near Katmere Academy.

Impossible not to think about all the pain and loss and torture and devastation we suffered.

When there’s no answer, Hudson knocks again, firmer and louder this time. The sound jolts me out of my bad memories, and I tell myself to focus on what’s really important here: Mekhi.

He doesn’t answer the second knock, either, and when Hudson goes to knock a third time, his brother stops him with a hand on his wrist.

“Just open the door,” Jaxon says, and there’s a thread of fear in his voice that echoes the terror bottoming out my stomach right now.

---