Was it worth it to try to keep her safe by keeping us apart? I’m not so sure anymore. There must be a better way. We’re all trying to navigate this strange sea of danger, trying to suck some semblance of life from the salt along the way.
“Things are gonna change now,” Belial says to us both. “I won’t try to keep you two from communicating, but I will tell you this. You will only see each other when I tell you it’s safe.”
Slowly, I look over at Anna and we both nod. Though he’s under suspicion, Belial will have inside information from ally spirits about where the other Dukes are at any given time. This could work.
Belial points at me, and my blood chills.
“I’ve been watching you,” he says. “I’ll tell you exactly what I told Anna. You’ve got to at least appear to be working. Get yourself out to the parties and bars three or four nights a week. Do not get comfortable. Work if you have to. Anna will understand. Won’t you, Anna?”
He turns to Anna, whose face is all sadness. “Yes. I’ve already told him that.”
I feel ill at the thought of either one of us even pretending to work, but I understand his reasoning. The dangers remain, prophecy or not.
“Can you keep up appearances, kid?” he challenges me.
I begrudgingly respond, “Yes, sir.”
Belial stands when it’s time to leave. He gives my shoulder a squeeze with his massive bear claw until I meet his eyes, which are surprisingly soft.
“You’re not a bad kid,” he says. “I see that now. You’ll make a good ally.” I swallow hard and he gives my shoulder a pat.
You’re not a bad kid. . . .
Anna slips her soft fingers into mine and tugs me forward. I follow her into the kitchen, my eyes downcast, feeling strange. She starts cooking something, and I quickly snap out of my stupor when it’s apparent Anna is wiping at her eyes. She tries to cover it up, babbling.
“You’ll need fresh milk soon. And probably more eggs, too. Eggs are an easy thing you can make yourself. All these meals are labeled with cooking instructions. Remember how I showed you—”
“Anna.”
She won’t look at me. I stand and take her hand off the fridge, closing it, and pulling her into my arms. She lets me hold her until she calms.
We’re going to be okay, come what may, but I don’t pretend it won’t hurt like hell when she has to leave.
We eat dinner and spend our remaining time entwined together on the couch.
“I love you,” she says softly. And like every time before, the words spread over me like warm honey. I work up the nerve and open my mouth.
“I’ve loved you longer.”
She pulls back from my chest and stares up at me. “I don’t believe you.”
I can feel an idiotic grin threatening to spread across my face, just talking to her like this. I bury my face in her neck and hair, and I tell her exactly how I first fell for her. I make her believe me. “You see the best in everyone,” I say. “You drove me mad that trip . . . and then you gave that homeless woman all your money in Hollywood, and that was it. I was done.”
Her eyes are sparkling as she angles across my lap, slips her hands into my hair, and pulls my face to hers. Her leg swings over so she’s straddling me, and I let my hands move over her back, her waist, down to her hips. I’m trying so damn hard to keep my hands and the rest of my body on good behavior, but I let my mouth be as wild as it wishes. She doesn’t seem to mind.
We pause to stare at each other, marveling like a couple of lovesick fools. I want to laugh, like I’m on the best kind of high, but then she’s kissing me again.
“We’re gonna be okay,” she whispers between kisses.
“Better than okay,” I say.
She grasps the front of my shirt and leans back as our lips come together again, pulling me so that I’m lying on top of her, between her legs. I move against her, just as I know she likes.
“I want to take you with me,” she groans.
Ah, God, my little vixen underestimates my self-control when she’s naughty like this.
“So you can drive me mad like this every day?” And use me for your plaything? I rather