“No relationship bonds,” Marna says. Then, because she can’t help herself, she rushes on. “Perhaps a slight attraction, but you know how fickle that is. Nothing to worry about.”
I grunt.
“I mean it! Be careful, you. And chin up.”
I grunt again and she sighs before hanging up.
They’re only friends. I swear to you.
A bit of the dark cloud I’ve been living under lightens.
I haven’t truly worked in four months, since the party in New York. It’s been brutal restarting my sensual fast. If this is what Kopano feels like all the time, I feel sorry for him. And I hate him even more for being so calm all the damn time, making it seem easy.
Every interaction is difficult for me. In my muddled mind, a simple “How are you today?” turns into a purred “How do you want it, baby?”
But still, the only person I want in my bed is Anna Whitt. And that will never happen. Hence, anger and frustration.
These sour feelings are compounded when Father rings me on February 13, saying I’m needed in Atlanta the very next day. He gives no details, but my blood runs cold. Working in Atlanta can mean only one thing: Marissa. I suppose I should consider myself lucky this is the first time he’s called me to Georgia in the fourteen months I’ve lived here. Still . . . it’s one call too many.
Then one tiny spark of light fills my mind. I’ll be close to Anna. So very close.
I can’t see her—I’ve been strong, staying away all this time, and I can’t ruin my efforts now. And I don’t need Belial tracking me down to make good on his threats. However, being so near to her just might give me the fix I need, which goes to prove just how pathetic I’ve become.
It’s not until I’m breathing frozen Georgia air and see the sedan waiting for me outside the airport that I allow myself to think on my purpose for being here. I half expect exhilaration to hit me at the prospect of being physical with a girl again, but it never comes. I don’t want this. I ruined my first-ever streak of goodness in October, and I’ve been an angry shell of myself ever since.
I feel ill the entire way to Father’s house. Over and over I stretch my hands open and close them into tight fists.
Do I dare refuse him about a niece of Marissa’s again? What if it’s another child? How far will I go to stay alive?
When I enter the house I find Father and Marissa having tea. They both glance at me, and then continue talking business. In a chair beside them sits a tall girl with her hair pulled back. She looks around sixteen or seventeen, thankfully no younger. Father and Marissa are speaking in French, which I understand, but the girl likely doesn’t. I don’t listen because I don’t care to hear whatever they’re discussing. I stand in the doorway of the posh sitting area, grinding my teeth as they murmur. I stare at an ugly, abstract painting on the wall. I can feel the girl watching me.
When they finish, Marissa turns to me in her chair. “Kaidan.” I force myself to look at her. “This is my newest niece, Iva. I am hoping you can keep her company today.”
Marissa reaches over and pets the girl’s head. Iva smiles at her shyly, and then at me, which makes me grind my teeth even harder. The girl has no idea what she’s in for. I force a nod and my mouth goes dry as I search for a way out of this. I devise a quick plan, though it’s weak.
“I’ve heard there’s a rave in the city this evening,” I say, my heart thundering. “Thought I’d try to kill two birds with one stone. May I take Iva out with me this afternoon, and then drop her back at Marissa’s on my way to the party?”
Shite. I didn’t think this through. They’re going to ask me where I’ll take her. Lookout Point, perhaps? Father turns to Marissa and she shrugs, flinging her waist-long black hair from her shoulder and clicking her long fingernails together. Blast, that sound. I steel myself against a shudder.
“Makes no difference to me,” Marissa says, reaching out to stroke the girl’s cheek, “as long as the job is done and she makes it home to me safely. But keep her out of public.” Marissa eyes me