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Liam put an arm around her. That would be convincing, if someone were looking at them through the darkness, even if it was only truly a gesture of friendship.

“Would it be better if you could?” he asked.

Darla froze.

“I don’t know of any way out of this,” Liam continued thoughtfully. “If you chose Breck, Eugene would challenge, and you’d be back where you started. You run away… and… well, that has problems, too.”

But Darla was still locked on the idea of having Breck, even just for a moment. What would it be like, knowing what his kiss tasted like, to have a memory of the feel of his skin, his hair through her fingers, his weight, his smell…

She had to wrestle herself back to the moment with every scrap of her strained willpower.

“And the home,” Darla reminded him between gritted teeth. “All those poor people who would have nowhere to go once my mother was done destroying their lives. Mrs. Asher. She’s like a grandmother to me. Mr. Danby...”

She wasn’t thinking about them. She was thinking only of herself, of her own blazing need, her own terrible hunger, her own aching emptiness.

“Darla,” Liam said gently.

She opened eyes she hadn’t realized she’d shut and found that their bracelets were both glowing brightly.

That would give any watchers an eyeful, she thought bitterly, as she clamped her hand uselessly over her own.

“Sorry,” she said faintly. “I can’t… can’t help it.”

“Darla,” Liam repeated. “Would it be better… if you went to him?”

Nothing in the world could be better, she was convinced. And nothing could be worse.

Even if Darla didn’t have words to speak, the bracelets, now as bright as beacons, said plenty. Let him teach you how to live, Magnolia had said. And oh, she wanted to.

“Past the event hall, you know that white manor?”

Darla crinkled her brows at him in confusion

. “Yes,” she said hesitantly.

“Go around the back, there’s a door on the first floor past the retaining wall. There’s a metal lizard on the wall next to it.”

Darla stared at him.

“That’s Breck’s private room entrance,” Liam explained. “He’s probably there now.”

“How did you find that out?” Darla asked breathlessly. Her snow leopard was purring.

“The chef slipped me a note. I… to be honest, I thought it might be an attempt to fix me up with him.”

Darla laughed, and was surprised that it was a real laugh. “He knows about me and Breck,” she explained. “And Mother being constantly around makes it hard to slip me anything directly.”

“There you have it,” Liam said with an answering laugh. “More peer pressure.”

“I… I just don’t know if it’s right,” she said weakly, feeling what was left of her resistance crumble.

“Oh, Darla,” Liam said, sounding as patient as ever. “You have spent your whole life trying to do what is right for other people. I think that taking three nights to do the right thing for you is fully justified.”

Darla raised her gaze to his. “Three nights,” she said. “I have three nights left.”

“Go make them count,” Liam advised. “I’ll put a sock on my doorknob per ridiculous custom and everyone will assume you are just being impatient and no one will question a thing.”

Darla raised on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said simply.


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