Page 78 of Red Masquerade

“Why?”

A beat of silence, his gaze searching my face. “He’s been one of my companions for some time.”

For six years? If I’d waited six years for nothing, for no real good reason, while Sinclair—and others—got to know him, were partying around, drinking blood, while I found what little happinesses I could—sparks of contentment amongst an otherwise bleary slate—

Vince and three other vampires, living it up on the Island while I was wasting away in the city—

I stepped away from him, running my hands over my face.

If he trusted them, heknewthem—he spent time with them.

While I still believed he was dead.

Frustration set Vince’s jaw. “Did you expect me to be alone?”

“I don’t know.”

“It takes time, Helena. To settle in, to get your footing. You’ll find everything is well—”

“No.” I had turned from him, giving him my back. Suddenly full of anger and grief, every feeling I’d ignored since last night.

Everything wasnotwell. The only reason I had my dead lover back was because he was no longer human.

“No?” His hands came to rest on my arms, gentle and soothing. “I know this is all so different. I will try my best to—”

“You don’t get it,” I snapped, spinning on my heels so we were once again face-to-face. “I thought you weredead. And my heart still aches, even when I can see you are here, right in front of me. It doesn’t feel real.”

Those gray eyes searched mine, his features the softest they’d been since last night. “I am real. I’m right here.”

Then why doesn’t it feel like it?

I still felt I’d wake up any moment and be in my room, at home, Lucas pounding on the door.

Adam is back. He’s alive. He’sherewith me.

Sucking in a shuddering breath, I fought the frustrated tears gathering in my eyelashes, tired of crying, tired of feeling so out of control.

“I’mmadat you,” I breathed, the words barely louder than a whisper. “I’m angry that I’ve spent so long so…empty. That Lucas threatened you all those years ago, and I did nothing, and then I thought you were dead. But you’re not, even though my heart still thinks it.”

He wrapped my hand in his, his skin cool to the touch. So different from mine. Bringing our clasped hands up to his chest, he pressed my palm to the skin there, feeling the soft, slow thud of his heart. Still beating, even if it gave away his secret in its slow rhythm.

“I will work every day to make sure your heart knows that mine beats for you,” he said.

And though the words melted a bit of my resolve, the anger still flared. “Ugh.” I pulled away from him, needing some space.

Every time he was near me, he clouded my senses. Made me want to become that young girl again, hopelessly in love, thinking everything will be alright.

“I am betrothed,” I said, hoping the words stung him just enough. “I am to marry, and I’ve just run away from that. I’m ruined. My brother will kill me.” Pacing the hall, the marble icy on my feet, grounding me in the moment.

“He will do no such thing.”

“I have a life!” I threw my hands into the air. “And you just waltz in and interrupt like nothing has happened!”

His hands fisted at his sides, like he wanted to reach for me, to grab me to him, to keep me from running. I realized his hair was not only mussed from sleeping, but from running his hands through it so many times this morning. Did he pace his room, worrying that I’d left?

Good. Maybe then he felt half the nerves I did.

“You don’t get to just show up and act like everything is okay.” I worried my lip, emotions building up as tears, adding to my frustration. “You don’t get to just decide when to pull me back in like this, not without an explanation.”