Page 79 of Thirst
A bitter smile tugged at her mouth. “You never trusted me, did you? That whole time, I’ll bet you were checking up on me, making sure I wasn’t playing you. But I never did, did I? I could’ve tipped my father off about our meetings. You were careful, but you were also vulnerable. I could’ve stabbed you in the heart myself.”
She was on her feet now, the pad tossed aside. Her chest jerked in short, uneven breaths, and two spots of color burned on her cheeks, her hurt and anger slamming into me like a physical blow.
I let my arms fall to my sides. Nobody could fake that kind of pain. Or at least, Nyx couldn’t. Not with me.
With me, she’d been unguarded, allowing me to see the woman beneath the gloss and bravado.
My stomach caved in. What if I’d screwed up? What if she’d been telling the truth all along? And I hadn’t believed her, even after she’d shown me, again and again, that she was on my side. I’d been too blind, too suspicious, too ready to see treachery in every corner.
And because of it—just like Rio had warned—I’d turned her against me. Made an enemy of the only woman who could make me feel something.
“You’re a screw-up, boy. Always have been, always will be.”
Now I didn’t want to punch the wall. I wanted to drive my skull through it.
Nyx wasn’t done. “I could’ve taken advantage, turned you over to my father long before the other night. But I didn’t. Because I wanted you. I liked you. I wouldn’t have hurt you for the world. But I will not betray my sire.” Her finger stabbed into my sternum, one sharp poke for each word, and I kept my hands at my sides, accepting I deserved that and more. “I. Am. Not. A. Blood-rat.”
She stopped and drew a serrated breath. “Think about it. If I help you get to him, how can you ever trust me to be loyal to you and your syndicate?”
I worked my jaw back and forth, unable to come up with a good answer.
She turned away, shoulders rigid. “Just go, okay?”
I stared at the back of her head, at the way she held herself too stiff, like she was bracing for more pain. She was right. Why would we trust her if she switched sides like that?
But I knew why I’d pushed her.
I’d wanted her to choose me over Nazaire.
I’d wanted her, body and soul. Complete surrender.
The admission poked a tender spot inside me. I fisted my hands. Pathetic. That was the abandoned three-year-old talking, the toddler who’d lost his father and didn’t even remember his mother. Family was just a word for me until I met Talon, and later, Brien.
It was different for Nyx. She had a father, even if he was a twisted mofo. I couldn’t fault her for being loyal to him. Blood chains ran deep in our world; most of us could trace our lineage back a thousand-plus years.
Didn’t mean I didn’t resent the grip the man had on her. I did.
Irrational, sure, but I wasn’t rational about Nyx. She got under my skin, past every defense I thought I had.
But that was on me, not her.
The real enemy here wasn’t Nyx. It was Nazaire.
I caught her by the shoulders. “Hey.”
She tried to wrench free, but I turned her to face me so I could look her in the eyes. “You’re right,” I said.
She drew herself up to her full height, proud as a queen. Then she frowned. “I am?”
“Yes. You’re right, and I’m wrong. You’re loyal. I respect that, actually.”
A scoff. “If I’m right, then why am I in a cell?”
“You’re not.” I released her and grabbed the bag of clothes from the cot. “Let’s go.”
She slow-blinked and didn’t move—until I reached for the sketchpad and box of pencils. Then she snatched them up, clutching them to her chest.
“Where are you taking me?”
