Page 62 of Chasing the Night
Chapter Twenty
Rolling Boil
Ender
Breakfast was a disaster. I had never seen a group of people so stiff and riddled with unspoken tension. Fated Few, how I hated drama.
On the other hand, ever since I was small, I possessed the ability to read a room. Little feelers that told me if it was safe, when my mother couldn’t be with us. As drowned as they were with the negative energy, every once in a while, I caught a whiff of something powerful and excruciating. When Chalice turned to leave and planted her hand on my shoulder in farewell, that feeling shot straight to my heart.
I waited until everyone was staring at Messiah, then I clipped the wine bottle from the end of the table on my way out. I was used to Aella’s scorn. Who wasn’t? She was the only one who actually looked forward to being unioned. If I had to guess, I’d say she believed it to be her only chance out without actually being out.
Aella adored the rush of spying and shadow walking. Hers were the only eyes that followed me out of the room.
I’m not sure why, but something told me to check my room first. Sure enough, Chalice was sitting by the window, staring out across the district.
“Do you want to get out of here?” I asked, hefting the bottle.
She looked at me like I had told the worst joke in history. “No one gets out of here. My only options are contract or coffin if I play by their rules, and we both know it.”
As true as her words were, I still cast a look down the stairs behind me before I stepped in and closed the heavy door. It was a butler’s closet before I staked claim to it, so the moment the area was contained I was basked in warmth and her fucking perfume.
I glanced back at the door as memories of last night flashed before me, and I contemplated leaving before I fucked things up worse. I almost did, until she reached out and took the wine. No way in this world or the next would I leave empty handed. The woman had to come off the root or wine… or I could join her. I rubbed the back of my neck and sat down as far away from her as I could. Atticus would kill us for sharing a coffee at this point, I was certain of it.
I pressed on the door assuring it was as tight as it could be and slung the lock. I never used it, but today would be a first, I thought, as I strung the row of wooden beads along the windows. Exotic curtains Isabella had called them. Wind breaks, more like it.
When I finished and turned back around, she was staring at me with raised brow. She shook her head and laughed faintly before hunting for a wick. I opened my mouth to object, but there wasn’t much I could say. I had introduced her to the shit after all.
“You know what? Fuck it, I have a lot to say,” I thought aloud and snatched her wrist. Her eyes bugged, and she almost dropped the pipe.
“What’s wrong with you?” she scoffed, trying to fling her wrist free. “What are you talking about? I didn’t say you couldn’t speak, are you already spent on the stuff?”
I leaned toward her,grabbed the pipe from her hand and threw it on the table before grabbing the arm rest so that she was trapped between me and the sofa.
“You can’t do this. I won’t let you,” I promised her. Trying to keep the growl from my voice was difficult. Things were escalating around House Krypt. The tension amongst us all was building to such a degree I feared the fucking Villa would one day erupt like the Torch of the Sea.
“You won’t let me… I don’t remember asking. Matter of fact, Sir Ender, if I recall… it was you who taught me how to properly enjoy Nirv—”
“Chalice… shut the fuck up and listen to me.” Her expression instantly went vacant save for a deadly flash of amber that sparked behind those honey eyes. I slid my arm off the back of the sofa and used it to softly cup her cheek. The warring within her was palpable. She flinched and wanted to draw away, but finally settled and tolerated my touch as I spoke.
“Hurting yourself and your reputation so you will be made less valuable to him won’t help anything. In fact, it’s something he knows you will do. The same way you ran that breakfast table, he is running you.”
She shoved me, but I held firm to the sofa, returning my other hand to the back of the upholstery.
“Nobody fucking runs me,” she hissed, drawing up from the couch a bit. Our faces were inches from each other, and I’d never wanted to kiss her so badly, but I knew if I tried, I’d probably end up with my lips chewed off.
“Let me help make that a half true statement?” I proposed, keeping my head tipped and my gaze on her. Together, surely, we could think of some plan to end or escape the madness.
She shoved at my chest and tried to rise up against me, but I stilled her with a kiss to the cheek. She froze, grabbing the arm rest right next to where I held it. Her knuckles strained, and I knew her expression all too well. The contempt, disgust and yearning. We all felt it from time to time.
“Why are you toying with me?” she asked in a low barely restrained voice.
“I’d never,” I answered quickly and honestly.
“Bullshit. You buy me gifts and look at me like you do. You threw Kantor around all over the Sip Room…” I smiled, unable to help it. Was that how she recalled it? He had given as good as he got, but I wouldn’t correct her memory.
“Why are you fucking smiling?” She shoved me again, catching me off guard. I started to slide and caught it, lowering myself to the floor in a controlled fashion. She started to move, and I kissed her leg. She stilled and stared at me while her legs shook ever so subtly.
“You can control a room, but what happens when you get your target alone? Hmm?” I kissed her other knee and used my cheeks to nudge her legs apart. The distraction almost worked, until it didn’t.