Page 496 of Fated to be Enemies

“You know, it’s so trivial, I’ve already forgotten,” he lies with a careless flick of his wrist. “Perhaps a bit of nonsense over a girl.”

My head tilts to the side without thought, and my eyes glow without anger, their reflected light shining off his cufflinks. Knowledge streams into my brain, confirming that Carver is evading my questions to the point of lying.

I really hate being lied to.

Especially since the fight was about me and Rhys staying here. But why? Are we more of a danger to them than I thought? Am I not amongst friends?

The whole room tenses at the pale light shining from my eyes, and Rhys is already crossing the room. He’s in front of me before I can blink, a vicious growl bubbling from his throat, his shoulders tensed and ready to strike.

Gently, I rest my hand on Rhys’ back, doing my best to calm him because a Phoenix vs. Wraith cage-match is not what we need right now. He startles as if being touched by a tender hand is a foreign concept. As if he’s never felt a soothing gesture in his whole life.

Maybe he hasn’t.

“I think it’s time for bed,” I suggest, forcing him to meet my gaze. “Rhys, walk me to the room, won’t you?”

He grabs my hand and tugs me toward the staircase.

“Oh, Carver,” I call out sweetly, tilting my head over my shoulder as we reach the third step.

“Yes?” His wary voice is telling. He knows he fucked up.

“That’s strike one. You lose your options for friendship when you lie to me.”

Chapter Seven

AURELIA

Rhys drops my hand as soon as we top the stairs, leading me to our room, likely for lack of something better to do. Waiting until our door is closed, he asks the question he’s probably been dying to ask the entire trek but couldn’t.

“What did you see?”

Debating on what to tell him, I fiddle with the bracelets on my wrist. I must stall too long because he puts a hand over the silver to silence them.

“Tell me.”

“The two men who look like they beat the shit out of each other? Carver lied to me about what their fight was about. It wasn’t anything major, it’s just… everyone’s on edge. Wraiths have been attacked in the surrounding areas and then the show gets attacked...” I shrug, pulling my hand from his—gently this time. “I’m picking up on everyone’s tension. It’s probably nothing. We’re safe here.”

Rhys sighs before dropping to the edge of the bed, clearly surveying the overdone romance shtick. He doesn’t meet my eyes, either embarrassed that Evan did this, or something else I can’t name.

“I can sleep on the floor if you want,” he offers in a gruff whisper.

A part of me hurts that he felt like he had to suggest the option—that being next to me brings him just as much pain as it does to me.

Deciding to be a full-fledged grown up, I answer him: “Don’t worry about it. We could both probably starfish on that bed and not touch. Don’t suffer on my account.”

Don’t suffer on my account. That sentence zings through me as I head to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

How long has he been suffering? I wonder. And how much of it is because of me?

I have a sneaking suspicion the answer is “Always” and “All of it.”

My screams have quieted now. I lost my voice what seems like hours ago. The tears have yet to dry, but as long as there is blood in my veins, there will be tears in my eyes. In my throat. On my skin.

Lucien’s body is cold in my embrace, long since dead. I adjust my grip on him, wrapping my arms tighter around his shoulders, grasping him to me, trying to hold his soul a little longer. Our blood has mixed and mingled, soaked into the threads of my dress. I tried wiping the blood from his lips, but it only smeared, his skin refusing to come clean.

It’s getting harder to hold him now.

Harder to think.

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