“At least Léon is with him,” Vander said, as if reading her thoughts.
Ingrid was grateful for that. The Duster had killed his family, but he wasn’t evil. He’d made a mistake. An awful mistake, just as Grayson had in London. Her brother was not a monster. He might think so, but she did not. Ingrid would let him be for now. Eventually, she would find him.
“I’ll bring him home,” she whispered.
Vander lifted the arm she was leaning against and looped her with it. She was full against him now, his fingers still tightly gripping the reins. She had no desire to pull away from the embrace. Vander felt solid and strong, and Ingrid breathed evenly, repelling the feelings of guilt before they came too close. She didn’t think she was Luc’s human again just yet, or that he could sense her. He was inside the carriage with her father, having shifted back to his human form as much as could be done.
The mercurite had hurt Luc more than Ingrid wanted to think about. He wasn’t immortal or infallible, and she’d hated seeing him struggle. She also hated the image that pressed against her eyes whenever she closed them: Luc, standing over Dimitrie’s body. The boy’s head dangling from his talons.
A shudder worked down her arms. It had nothing to do with the cold. Ingrid tried to pull away, but Vander’s arm kept her encircled.
“Vander, it isn’t safe,” she said.
“For whom?” He glanced down at her, lamplight reflecting off his spectacles. “I don’t mind absorbing your dust, Ingrid. I’m not afraid of it. In fact …” He shrugged, one corner of his mouth kicking up. “I like being able to feel you this way. No one else can. Just me.”
Something intimate passed between them. It felt like a kiss without their lips actually meeting. The soft, pale flesh along the underside of her forearm prickled, invisible needles poking lightly at her fingertips.
It scared her how much she wanted to stay there against him, letting him soak up her dust. How long would it take for him to absorb it all? The idea of being normal, of giving it all away to him, even for just a little while, both tempted and frightened her.
Ingrid pulled away again, and this time he let her sit up. Disappointment pulled his lips back into a straight line. He focused on the road ahead.
“You owe him nothing,” Vander said softly, his jaw tight. He knew to whom her thoughts had traveled. With a wrench of guilt, she wondered if she’d always been so very transparent. “If he’s made you any promises, Ingrid, I can assure you they’re lies.”
Ingrid closed her eyes. She couldn’t talk to Vander about Luc right now. She’d just watched her brother walk away from her, and she knew it was selfish, but she wasn’t ready to watch as Vander did the same thing.
“No, Vander. It’s just …” She shook her head. “I don’t know if I can go to H?tel Bastian anymore. What Nolan’s father told me, about the Directorate voting to have me killed …” Ingrid closed her eyes at the unexpected tug at the bottom of her throat. The sting of tears.
“If the Alliance is my enemy—”
“I am not your enemy, Ingrid.” Vander’s voice cracked like a pistol shot. “I don’t understand why the Directorate would do something like this—if they even did vote to release that mimic on you. Carrick Quinn was half mad with mercurite poisoning, remember. He might have been acting on his own.”
He hadn’t been. Ingrid knew it, and somewhere underneath his denial, so did Vander. “They are going to discover I’m still alive.”
“I’ll take down the entire Directorate before I let them hurt you.” He slapped the reins and the horses trotted faster. “You are safe with me, Ingrid. I promise you that.”
She knew she was. It was the rest of the Alliance that worried her.
He held both reins with one hand and laced his fingers through hers. He lifted her hand to his mouth. He didn’t kiss it, but breathed out hot air to warm her. Her lips parted as the warmth reached inside, curled around her stomach, and gave a slow, seductive tug.
Ingrid dragged in a ragged breath and unlaced her fingers from his. She couldn’t do this. Not after what had happened between her and Luc at gargoyle common grounds. The way they had kissed and touched, their limbs twined together on the bed in that guest room, had left no room for anyone to edge between them. Neither of them had spoken the actual words, but she and Luc had made a promise to one another.
Ingrid looked away from Vander. “I think I know how to use the electricity now. I need to practice.” It was a flimsy excuse. Vander’s touch stirred her, but was it him? Or was it him disturbing her dust? She didn’t know. God, what was she going to do?
Vander, gracious as ever, simply nodded. “That’s good. I knew you would. You were amazing back there, you know. The way you took down that hellhound.” He let out a laugh as the horses trotted toward the ?le de la Cité. The round towers of the old prison were black against the mottled blue of the oncoming dawn.