“I’d rather go alone.”
“Kissing won’t fix this, but neither will running away.”
“I’m not running away.”
He arches a brow. “Aren’t you?”
“I’m doing my duty, same as you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you have time to figure out if your duty is to Lilith, or to me.” I move past him, my destination the front door, but he grips my wrist and pulls me against his chest.
His shallow breaths tempt my lips, those exhales heavy with the things left unsaid as we stand in a deadlock, bodies flush together.
“I don’t need time, princess.”
“But I do.”
Until that moment, I’ve never seen a man cry—not since finding my father with tears in his eyes when I was ten. The memory is vague, and I question the validity of it, because I’d remember this searing pain of witnessing a loved one in silent agony.
“This isn’t over.” He dashes the moisture from his eyes.
“It’s not over,” I agree softly. “But it is on pause.” It’s all I can give him as I stand on tiptoe to kiss his scruffy cheek.
The fight leaves his bones, his arms lowering degree by degree until I’m free.
But as I exit the House of Leo, I’m far from free. Sebastian shackled and locked my heart during his month, and now he’s got a death grip on the key.
2
The corridor is quiet and deserted. My heels click-clack across the immaculate marble floor, but the sound barely registers above the mantra raging in my head.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Don’t think about lions or oceans or rides on the highway with the top down. Don’t remember the weight of his chest against mine, or the sheen of happiness in his eyes as he smeared birthday cake on my cheek.
Don’t think about glistening lashes and downcast gazes.
Keep breathing.
In, out, in, out, in, out…
The mantra is working, because my grief is but a ghost haunting me down the hall. Somewhere between fleeing the House of Leo and exiting the elevator on the first floor, I murdered the pain by taking a page out of Heath Bordeaux’s manual of brutal sadism. I whipped my heartache until it bled to death.
I tell myself I’m calm and collected as a queen should be, capable and prepared for what comes next as I loiter outside the library, all the while knowing the hardest part is crossing the threshold into a new house. This isn’t unfamiliar territory, after all. I’ve been through it five times already.
What’s one more? Drawing in a deep breath before letting it out in a long exhale, I push the door open.
But Miles Sinclair isn’t in the library.
At first, a sense of deja vu washes over me, and a searing recollection of gazebos, desperate kisses, and possessive promises stream through my mind like a romance movie. Swallowing hard, I banish the memories of my time with Sebastian, and that’s when I spot him.
The familiar broad back.
His expensive dark suit contrasting daytime through the window.
I’d recognize that copper hair anywhere.
Upon the door closing, the chancellor turns, his umber eyes hopeful and cautious all at once. It only takes a hint of his devastating smile to blast me square in the chest.
“Where’s Miles?” I ask, my vocal cords strained. The last time I saw Liam, I was at the height of an emotional breakdown and on the brink of causing a public scene at Elise’s wedding. My cheeks heat as the memory of what happened afterward with Sebastian replays in my head. I’ll never look at an elevator the same way again.
“You’ll join Miles in the House of Virgo soon,” he says, narrowing the distance between us as his hands disappear into his pockets. Mechanical and reserved mannerisms keep him in check, but I see right through the facade. No matter how much he tries to hide it, Liam wears his bleeding heart on the sleeve for all to see—a heart that gushes because of me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, lowering my chin until my blond locks curtain my face.
His clothing rustles, and I sense him closing the gap, can almost feel the heat of his fingers on my cheek as he brushes back a tiny braid. Other than that, he doesn’t touch me.
“What are you sorry for, my sweet girl?”
“Everything.”
With an ironic laugh, he tilts my chin up, commanding my gaze. “You’re innocent in all of this. No matter what’s happened, or will happen, remember that.”
“I’m not innocent.”
Something in my tone grabs his attention, and he steps closer, his intense gaze searching my face. “You were upset at the wedding, and you’re upset now.”
There’s no doubt in his statement. Liam sees through me as easily as I see through him.
“It’s not important.”
Liar.
The arch of his brow echoes the accusation in my head, but he doesn’t push. It’s not his style.
“Did something come up to keep Miles?” I ask, steering the conversation to safer ground.