“And we see how well that went.”
“Abram,” I said, steeling my voice. “You need to set her free.”
He nearly choked on the air. “That’s a little unfair, don’t you think? She’s the one who needs to set me free.”
I knew why I needed Abram. Having him in my life meant it was safe for me to have moments of weakness. After years of staying strong while my mom fought cancer, I needed that. I needed for it to be okay to not be strong all the time.
But now I knew why Abram needed me. He needed someone to help him move past all his anger and bitterness, his self-loathing and regret.
“Maybe she will set you free,” I said. “Or maybe she won’t. But do you think she’ll even consider it while you’re keeping her captive?”
He swallowed and looked toward the staircase leading up to the room where Satina sat locked away and chained to a wall.
“We’ll try it,” he said slowly. “But if she tries to hurt you, I really will be the one to kill her this time.”
Chapter 22
“I don’t like this idea,” Abram said, standing beside me in front of the enchanted room that held Satina. “I know I agreed and, since I’m a man of my word, I’ll do it. But I think it should be noted that I don’t like it.”
“Noted,” I answered drolly, arms folded. “And your word, is that the only reason you consented?” I arched my eyebrows at him.
A grin spread across his face. This was a dark time. That much was true. But, if being there for my mother through her painful last days taught me anything, it was that darkness without a touch of light was too unbearable to get through.
“It was either that or your lips,” he answered.
“My lips?” I asked, surprised.
“They curl up when you get angry. Would you find it demeaning if I said it was arousing?”
A spike of warmth seemed to leak out from my heart, filling my chest. “No,” I admitted. “Not if you said it.”
He looked at me for a long moment. It was clear that we were lost in each other, sinking gleefully into the possibility of what we might be to each other. Soon though, his expression sobered. We didn’t have time for this, and we certainly didn’t have the luxury of forgetting what we were here for.
“I don’t think this is going to work,” he said, turning his attention back to the door. “Satina isn’t going to help us.”
“You said you brought her back for the express purpose of helping you. Try to channel some of whatever you were feeling when you did that.”
“That’s probably not a good idea,” Abram said, running a skillful hand through his hair. “And you saw how much good that did. If you didn’t have your father’s eyes, who knows if I would have ever made the connection. I might have still been scouring that stupid club, combing through beautiful women.”
The idea of Abram combing through beautiful women didn’t sit well with me, regardless of how pure his intentions were. But that wasn’t the only thing about his sentence that I took offense with.
“Don’t call The Castle stupid. It’s where we met. It’s your work.”
“You’re my work,” he answered. “The club as just a vessel to facilitate that.”
“Well, I like it.” I smiled, nudging his shoulder. “Ridiculous ice maker and all.”
His hand trailed down my side and rested at my hip for a brief moment before he pulled away. “Maybe I’ll give it to you one day.”
“The ice maker?” I asked.
“Whatever you want,” he answered quietly.
The proclamation made me flush. I cleared my throat and swiftly shifted the conversation. “You just have to tell her what the other beast did. Tell her he killed a Conduit to get his powers. She’ll hate that. Conduit solidarity and all.”
“They’re not the Girl Scouts, Charisse. She already knows about that, and she doesn’t care. And if you remember, she didn’t even want to be a Conduit in the first place. Besides, I was under the impression you were going to speak with her.”
“Me?” I balked. “Why would you think that?”
“Because it was your idea,” he answered, eyeing the door. “And because Satina still hates me for what I did to her when she was alive.”
“Have you apologized?” I asked, leaning in.
A quizzical look came over Abram’s sculpted face. “You’re not serious.”
“Dead serious.”
“No,” he said firmly. “I will not lower myself to apologize to a woman of that nature.”
“Of that nature?” I asked. “I get that you’re from another time and you were raised with outdated values, but I don’t think I’m comfortable with the idea of slut-shaming Satina, even if she is a psychotic witch.”
“They don’t like that word,” he scolded. “Conduits aren’t witches, not really.” He shook his head. “And I’m not some out-of-date fossil. I might have been born in a different time, but I grew up alongside this world. I’m just as contemporary as anyone.”