Page 75 of A House of Gold
“He will. He always knows eventually. The House tells him things.” Nat tilts his head. “Who was it?”
“A friend.”
“Does he know about Croesus?”
“There’s nothing to know about Croesus.” But my voice wavers.
“Right.” Nat’s expression is knowing. “That’s why you look like you’re being torn in half. Because there’s nothing to know.”
“I’m not...” I stop. Take a breath. “Last night, after I purged the pride. Croesus and I...we kissed. And I told him I belong to him.”
The words hang in the air. Nat doesn’t react with shock or judgment. Just nods slowly, like this makes sense.
“And now you feel guilty,” he says. “Because you have someone waiting for you outside. Because you’re supposed to hate Croesus, not be involved in whatever this is.”
“I don’t know what this is.”
“Yes, you do.” He leans forward. “You’re falling for him. Or you’ve already fallen. And you’re terrified because that means you’re losing the fight. Losing yourself. Becoming the person who belongs to an angel instead of fighting to get free.”
“I’m not falling for him.”
“You’re lying. To me and to yourself.” Nat’s voice is gentle. “Look, I get it. Croesus is... compelling. Powerful. And when someone that powerful pays attention to you, really sees you, it’s intoxicating. Makes you feel like maybe being owned isn’t so bad if it means being wanted.”
“That’s not what...”
“It is. I’ve seen it happen a hundred times. People come here intending to serve their time and leave. But Croesus gets under their skin. Makes them forget why they wanted to leave in the first place.” He meets my eye. “The difference is, most of them don’t have anyone waiting for them outside. You do. And you’re going to have to choose.”
“There’s nothing to choose. I’m here for a year. Then I leave. That’s the deal.”
“Is it?” Nat stands. “Because from where I’m standing, you’re already halfway to staying. And Croesus knows it. That’s why he kissed you. That’s why he called you his. He’s claiming you before you even realize you’re his to claim.”
He leaves me there, alone with his words and my guilt and the truth I don’t want to face.
I look at the forty-sixth tattoo on my arm. Trace the silver spot with my finger. Forty-six contracts broken. Forty-six sins absorbed. Forty-six times I’ve survived what could have killed me.
But this, falling for the angel who owns me—might be what finally breaks me.
I go back to bed.
This time when I dream, Croesus is there. His hands in my hair. His mouth on my mouth. His voice saying mine like it’s the only truth that matters.
And in the dream, I don’t pull away.
I lean in.
18
Croesus finds me in the library three days after I call Ash.
I look up from the ledger I'm reading, records from the 1950s, looking for any hint in Gramms’ contracts, and he's just there, standing at the edge of my table like he materialized out of nothing.
Maybe he did. Angels can do that, right?
"We have work," he says without preamble.
I close the ledger. "What kind of work?"
"The kind that requires your particular talents." His gold eyes are unreadable. "Get your things. We're leaving in ten minutes."
