been through, he seemed to be doing pretty well. He was here, talking, joking, almost himself. “How do you do it? How do you control it?”
He shot me a sharp look. “I don’t. It controls me.”
“So, why aren’t you all, y’know, frosty?”
“Because right now, I either have what I want, or I’m getting it.” The glitter in his eyes sparkled. “Don’t look at me and see a survivor. I’m not human, not any more. If the demon wants, it gets. I have no control. None.”
That wasn’t a particularly comforting thought, given how he’d nearly brought about an ice age and almost killed me several times. Bowing my head, I hoped to hide how his words affected me. I’d held out hope that Stefan would win. I didn’t want to hear the truth. If he was all demon, then what hope was there for me?
I held up my finger and thumb, showing him the tiniest of gaps. “This is my control. I’m this far away from going nuclear, and I’m too much of a coward to do the right thing.”
“Which is?”
“Take P-C-Thirty-Four.”
He flinched. He had an intimate relationship with the drug. The Institute had developed it by testing it on him. Plus, a few months before, I’d pumped him full of the stuff in an attempt to repress his demon side. He hadn’t reacted well. Shadows crossed his face as the history flittered through his mind. For a few seconds, I feared the memories might flick his demon switches, and I’d be captured in ice in the next breath. Finally, after what was probably only a few seconds but felt like minutes, he lifted his head. “You’re a lot stronger than you realize.”
“I’m really not. I’m propping myself up with alcohol. I hunt demons every night, hoping one might get lucky and kill me.” Yeah, there was that ugly truth out in the open. I hadn’t even been sure until that moment when the words were out and they sounded right. My lips twisted. Self-disgust churned my stomach. “I don’t trust myself. Not even a little bit. My thoughts are all over the place. I can’t decide, right now, if I wanna curl up in a ball an’ cry, go out on the streets and kill demons—and I mean kill them, not just deport their asses—or if I should jump you because the lust in my veins is driving me crazy. My demon wants a piece of you. She wants to burn everything to the ground, and she quite likes the idea of the princes showing up so we have an excuse to go all Mother-of-Destruction on them and destroy anything within range in the process. And underneath all that neurosis, Damien sits and waits, like some fucking monster ready to swallow me whole and spit me out, stripped of my humanity. So tell me again how I’m stronger than I realize.” Breathless and trembling, I whispered, “Jerry said half-bloods shouldn’t exist. That what we are—it’s impossible. I think I know what he means now. I can’t do this any more.” Dammit, I wasn’t going to cry in front of Stefan. He’d been through just as much, if not worse, and he wasn’t a jabbering wreck. Why couldn’t I get my shit together? I attempted a smile, as though that could paint over all the emotional cracks.
Stefan’s lips barely twitched in response, but the diamond hardness of his eyes softened. For a few moments, I feared he might cross the room and gather me into his arms. I surprised myself by wanting it to happen, needing it to happen. But he didn’t move, and neither did I. Always distant. I couldn’t blame him. It was probably for the best.
“You’re so much more than you think.” Jaw set, he gave a gentle shake of his head. “You think you’re weak. You’re not. So you’re not perfect. Survivors generally aren’t. I’ve seen victims, Muse. You aren’t one of them. You’ve survived everything the netherworld has thrown at you. You’ll never let it destroy you.”
I wished I had his faith in me.
I straightened and denied the doubt purchase in my thoughts. I’d come this far. I wasn’t going to lose my mind. Not yet. If the princes were coming, there were only a handful of people who could do anything about it. I was one. Stefan was another. He’d have a plan. He always had a plan. “What are we going to do?”
“We meet Val’s force head-on. Get to the Institute half-bloods—that’ll make four