Page 89 of The Blood Rites

“I can’t promise you that,” Fen says. “But I’ll try.”

Fen seems to fall asleep, his breathing evening out as his body goes slack against Alaris’.

Alaris keeps his arm around him, watching the walls with hollow eyes, like he’s waiting for the ground to fall out from beneath him.

I leave them there, but the sight of them stays with me.

For a moment I almost step closer.

Almost say something.

Almost ask if I can sit with them.

But I stop myself.

In another life, maybe I would have been brave enough to ask for that kind of comfort.

The Embrace suddenly feels like a prison. I sit at the desk in my room, letting my thoughts run in aimless circles.

I think about Marissa, and Callen, and the sad, intimate cocoon Alaris and Fen have made for themselves. I think of Sorin and Theon, and I wonder if it will be my turn next.

The golden cracks pulse faintly, like my room is alive, breathing through the pain of the wounds I inflicted. I find it oddly comforting.

There’s a knock at the door—two quick raps then silence. I want to ignore it, but I find myself rising, heart fluttering, hoping for someone I have no right to expect.

When I open the door, Kael is standing there, hands in pockets, head slightly cocked. In the low light, the tattoos on his forearms look like swirling strips of darkness, stolen from the night and pinned to his skin. Each time I see him, I feel certain he’s about to kill me, or at least threaten to. Like a demon come to claim his debt.

Instead, he nods a fraction. “Little rabbit,” he says.

I flush a little, unsure when the moniker started to make me feel giddy instead of murderous.

Without thinking, I step aside to let him in.

He moves with a careful grace, as though he doesn't quite trust the room.

He takes the chair. I take the bed, sitting on the edge with my hands braced on either side of me.

The distance between us is small. His long legs rest barely a foot from mine.

For a few seconds, neither of us speaks.

“I didn’t expect to see you,” I say.

Kael shrugs. “I didn’t expect to come.”

He turns his hands over slowly, studying them with a faint frown. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“About?” I try to sound casual, but it feels like there is a razor in my mouth.

He laughs, short and sharp, void of friendliness. “Do you want the truth?”

He waits for me to nod.

“You should have been the first person I killed out there.”

The words are heavy, but not surprising.

“And yet you didn’t.”