Page 98 of Live To Tell

Highlighting an arm wrapped with shadow.

The nausea that’s followed me all day grows. No, Rowan.

“No cerise pink coat tonight?” I ask, harking back to the last time we met here and how something sparked.

A black jacket hood shrouds his face, and Rowan doesn’t move or speak, wisps moving around his fingertips, his thick, dark magic swallowing the air.

The Rowan I met in the pink coat teased me and attempted to place himself as superior in the situation, succeeding in riling me as we verbally sparred. That Rowan smirked, but from what I can see of Rowan’s face tonight, his dark expression is set in stone.

“Will you speak to me, or should I leave?” I ask.

“How did you know where to find me?” he asks flatly.

“I didn’t, but last time you were pissed with me, and it rained, I found you on the edge of the playing fields. I was headed that way.” I nod at him. “I thought you agreed not to use the shadows.”

“And I thought we’d moved on,” he says icily.

“Excuse me?” I ask as he closes the space between us, the shadows around him cooling the air further.

“I thought we’d moved past you trying to take control of my life and stomping all over my opinions and decisions.”

The Circle invitation.

“We have. I’ve looked for you all day, Rowan. I need to talk to you.”

The eyes that look down at me from beneath the hood spark silver as with his storm. “Why? For more help with your sleuthing? Are we back there again too? Using me?”

I hold his angry gaze. “To apologize.”

He scoffs. “As if yours are ever sincere.”

“That’s highly unfair, Rowan,” I retort. “If I understand that my behavior upset somebody, I apologize and mean it.”

“Upset?” He leans forward, damp face closer to mine. “I damn well told you I didn’t want to join the Circle and you orchestrated for the exact opposite to happen.”

“I did not orchestrate anything. I asked Dorian before you told me.”

“And did you then tell him not to?”

I drop my gaze. “No.”

A damp hand seizes my chin and tips my face up. “What? You expected me to go along with your plans like a good boy? Accept your choice? Didn’t it occur to you how angry I might get by not getting the choice?”

His fingers are bone cold, the shadows icy. “I made a mistake by forgetting to tell Dorian to stop, Rowan. I didn’t consider the consequences.”

“And what if I tell you this is the last straw for me?” His fingers squash my cheeks. “That I now want to stay far, far away from you, Violet Blackwood.”

My heart lurches. “The bond would make that difficult.”

“But not impossible.”

The last time I saw this much shadow around Rowan, he attacked Josef. I’m not concerned he’ll attack me, but I’m worried that they’re manifesting this strongly. There’s a peculiar smell whenever shadows grow thick—sweet and heady, not the acrid scent you’d expect. Rowan no longer smells like himself. He isn’t himself.

“I’ll fix this,” I whisper.

“Fix what? My unwanted invitation or the fact you’ve betrayed a promise to me?” he says hoarsely. “You put solving the murder of a complete stranger over what I want.”

“I’m sorry, Rowan,” I repeat. “I can’t change what I did but—”

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