“Get her a washcloth. Something to clean her up—”
I don’t know if anyone does. I don’t know anything at all, because in the next second, my vision narrows sharply, and everything that was blurry turns suddenly black.
The last thing I feel are hands catching me as I pass out.
9
JAXON
Ifucked up.
Christ, I fucked up.
I don’t know what came over me that night. Natalie’s death has been like a poison since the day it happened, turning me bitter and cruel and angry, merciless towards anyone that I feel might have had the slightest hand in her death or been connected to it in any way. Anyone that I feel might be better off because she’s dead.
Athena couldn’t have had anything to do with her death, and I wouldn’t say that she’d benefited from it, but she’d withheld a piece of information that might have—no,wouldhave changed things between us. Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself.
As I pace outside of her room, I tell myself that I wouldn’t have fucked her if I’d known she was Natalie’s half-sister. If she’d told me before that night that she crawled into my bed, I wouldn’t have gone down on her, I wouldn’t have let her suck me off again the way she had. I wouldn’t have pinned her up against my door, fucking her harder than I’ve fucked anyone in recent memory.
I keep telling myself that, but a small part of me whispers that it’s not true. That I would have fucked her no matter what, regardless of who she’d been to Natalie or any connection she’d had to any of it. And above that, a louder voice keeps screaming the same thing in my head, over and over again.
It’s your fault.
Your fault.
Your fucking fault.
She’d taken that drink before she’d charged into a fight to help me. She’d been in the middle of that because she’d been pissed at me for fighting over her in the first place, and because she was angry at the way I’d treated her.
And rightfully so.
I’d already wanted to find a way to apologize to her, to make it up somehow, but I hadn’t had time. When that hulking fuck of a man had caught sight of her coming in and made a comment about how he’d “enjoyed watching that slut get railed at the last party,” I’d seen red. And I hadn’t been able to catch myself before losing my temper.
I’ve already been far too much on edge.
And now I might not have a chance to make it up to her. Cayde and Dean seem to think that she’s going to be fine, but I can’t help but be terrified that won’t be the case. I can feel all the old grief rising up to the surface—it’s never far away anyway, always just waiting for something to bring it up again. And this—a girl that I care about lying hurt—is way too close to that grief for my comfort.
There’s not a single day that I haven’t thought about Natalie, and not a single day that I haven’t thought about how she died. Not a single day that I don’t ache for her, grieve for her, and blame myself for all of it. Now more than ever, because I’m absolutely certain that if I’d never loved her, if I’d never enticed her to run away with me, if she’d never been the one to convince me to try to leave all of this, she’d still be alive.
And now I’m terrified that we’ve done the same thing to Athena. That by bringing her into this, even inadvertently, we’ve condemned her to die too, to be harassed and hurt and abused until she’s finally taken out of the picture altogether. All because she’d dared to not bow to what the Blackmoor families wanted from her.
Not just that—but because once again, a girl is trying to break the traditions that have been in place for hundreds of years, and lead the heirs astray.
It’s almost poetic that Natalie and Athena are half-sisters.
Dean and Cayde are downstairs, dealing with the party, and so I slip into Athena’s room where she’s sleeping, shutting the door carefully behind her. My heart is pounding in my chest as I walk towards the bed, and I look down at her where she’s lying there, pale and peaceful, her long lashes against her cheek as her chest rises and falls.
She looks like something out of a fairytale, a princess waiting to be awoken by a prince’s kiss, but I don’t think she’s going to want a kiss from me. Maybe not ever again.
And the truth is that I still want her more than anything. I regret that night outside more than I can say, but if she wakes up, I’m going to find the words to explain it. Because I can’t lose her.
She might not be mine now, but I want her to be.
And I want to help her destroy all of this.
Starting with whoever handed her that fucking drink.
I want to slide into bed next to her, but I sink into the nearby chair instead. I know she’ll panic if she wakes up in my arms, and that hurts all on its own. But I know I’ve earned that. I might have to grovel to earn her back, but Dean and Cayde have managed it. Somehow, I hope that I can do the same.