Horror wiped away the tantalizing rush of desire in her veins.
Four hundred and three days. On top of what was a sort of de facto year of isolation in the Aerie. Over two years of confinement and indoctrination of a being meant to run as wild and powerful as the rolling fog.
The isolation and confinement alone would be enough to scar anyone, but an elemental… Elise shuddered to think about what that must have been like for him. And that was before she dared probe into what exactly Thaddeus II did to him during that time.
Even before he became Mad Thad, the sovereign wasn’t known for his mercy. No elves were.
Elise angled her hand to cup his jaw. Cal’s skin was perfectly smooth, no hint of stubble. The deep black of his eyes glittered in the orange light of the sunset as she smoothed her thumb over one beautifully cut cheekbone.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, blinking back tears. “I’m so sorry, Cal.”
Gods, when she made her proposal to Dorothy, when she thought up the idea to write The Shrouded City, she never once considered it would end up with her sitting across her kitchen table from a man carrying so much hurt.
Cal was an almost mythic figure. He was a legend she grew up with, an all-powerful child’s daydream and seductively dangerous adult fantasy.
He wasn’t supposed to be… broken.
And he was broken. She could see it in the suspicious way he watched her, as if he expected her to do something to hurt him every time she opened her mouth. It was written in every gesture, every flat word and in the almost defiant way he reached for her, as if daring her to deny him this comfort he so obviously craved.
Glory save me, she thought, wracked with a sudden wave of bitter guilt. Bile crawled up the back of her throat. I can’t write this book.
Elise withdrew her hand abruptly and stood up from her chair. She turned her back on him and tried to get her composure. Of course she’d heard tragic stories before. Of course she’d done hard, gut-wrenching interviews. This was different. Something about Cal twisted her up inside until the tension was too much too take.
There was no thrill of discovery in his story anymore. There was only a deep, painful ache in her heart.
Pressing her palm over her racing heart — the same one he kissed — Elise choked out, “I… Cal, I don’t know if this is such a good idea.”
His gaze sharpened. “What?”
They hadn’t even gotten to the part about people always wanting to use him for something, but now she could imagine it all too clearly. Mad Thad wanted to use him, probably as security for the city, if not as part of his secret shadow arm of Patrol. No doubt others had the same idea. A person who could be anywhere he wished without being noticed, who could see and hear anything in the city, was someone to have on your side whether they actually wanted to be there or not.
Of course people would want to use him.
Just like I am.
It didn’t matter that he’d agreed to it. It didn’t matter that he was getting something out of it. It didn’t even matter that she felt like his story still ought to be told, so he could finally see that he was more than the crushing guilt he carried. She talked a big game on that dock about not wanting to take advantage of him like he thought, but was she really so different from those who came before her?
No. She felt a deep kinship with this exquisite, broken being, and now she couldn’t bear the idea of exploiting him for something as shallow as a book.
No contracts had been signed yet. Things were still in negotiation. There was time to back out, to say she didn’t feel comfortable with the story. It wouldn’t look good, but a hit to her reputation was better than this ugly feeling of guilt that ate at her insides like corrosive acid.
Turning around, Elise found Cal standing up from his seat, his brows lowered over his eyes and his mouth pressed into a hard line. One hand was flattened on the table top, while the other was a tight fist by his thigh. He looked furious. Of course he did. He probably realized just how awful she was.
Elise lifted a shaking hand to push a lock of hair out of her eyes. “Look, Cal, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. If I had, I wouldn’t have— I wouldn’t have done any of this. I would have just left you alone. I’m sorry. I’m going to call my editor and tell her that I can’t write the—”
Magic slid over her skin. In the blink of an eye, her apartment filled with a haze of cool fog. Elise gasped. The air was wet and sweet on her tongue, but she didn’t have time to appreciate it.
Cal rose to his full height, his expression thunderous. His hair whipped behind him, almost entirely dematerialized into his summoned fog, and his black eyes were hardened into pitiless obsidian.
“You’re going back on our deal?” he demanded, swooping toward her in one long, very unhuman stride. Elise backed up until her spine hit the edge of the kitchen counter, but he didn’t stop his advance until he was pressed up against her. Cal’s fingers gripped the edge of the granite slab, trapping her there.
Elise felt the hard press of his body along the length of hers more than she felt the edge of the counter biting into the small of her back. Magic was thick in the air between them, bright like ozone but with a sharp metallic tang like blood.
“Cal, you’ve been used enough,” she explained, voice hoarse. “I don’t think I can go through with this knowing that I would just be another in a long line of people trying to exploit you.”
His eyes narrowed until they were little more than glittering shards of black stone in his silvery face. “I don’t care if you exploit me. I want what you promised.”
Gods, and what a cruel promise it was. More guilt curdled her stomach. Thank Glory she hadn’t actually touched her grilled cheese. If she had, Elise wasn’t sure she would have been able to keep it down.