“This doesn’t feel like you’re angry,” he said.
She laughed, her cheeks wet with tears. “How could I be angry? You went out of your way to track down my brother, and you helped him. He needed someone to care for him, and I couldn’t, but you did,” she said, her voice muffled by Vander’s shoulder.
She pulled away, wanting to say thank you. Vander’s mouth caught hers, stunning her long enough for him to ease her forward, against his chest. Ingrid’s lips had already been parted to speak and Vander had deftly stolen inside. The touch of his tongue and the way his fingers worked underneath her coiled braid, rubbing against her scalp, stunned her for a second time. But when he wrapped one arm around her waist and whirled her around, lifting her to sit upon the desktop, Ingrid laid her palms flat against Vander’s chest and pushed. Hard.
“No. Stop,” she gasped as she slid off the desk and stumbled away from him.
Vander stared after her, heaving for air. She covered her mouth with a trembling hand, unable to meet Vander’s gaze.
“Ingrid—”
“I can’t,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”
She hadn’t expected him to kiss her. And she hadn’t expected to have to remember how good kissing him felt.
“Because of Luc,” he said.
She dropped her hand and dared to meet Vander’s eyes. He narrowed them at her. “What has he done?”
Ingrid hesitated. “Nothing.”
Vander raised his voice and came toward her. “Do you know how much danger he’s put you in if the other Dispossessed find out?”
“I’m already in danger,” she said, though she immediately knew it was a poor retort. It only made Vander more furious.
“That’s right, Ingrid. Gargoyles are already hungry to destroy you, and now Luc would give them one more reason.”
It was tempting to be a coward and allow Vander to heap all his anger on Luc. She couldn’t do it, though. She was British. Cowardice simply wasn’t acceptable.
“You’re acting as if I didn’t have a say in any of this. I did, Vander. I do.”
He shook his head and, since there was not enough room to pace, turned in a tight circle. “He’s manipulating you. Making you confuse gratitude with affection. I can guarantee you wouldn’t feel anything for him if he hadn’t saved your life so many times, or been bound to you the way he was.”
Did Vander truly think her so susceptible? Or shallow? Ingrid stopped shrinking from him and stood her ground.
“They are my feelings, Vander Burke, not yours to pick apart and evaluate. And if you believe Luc would manipulate me, then you don’t know him at all.”
Vander took two strides across the room and stood directly before her, using every inch of his height to bear down on her.
“You’re right, I don’t know him. I know you, though, and I know what we have is real.” He took her hand in his and pressed it against his chest. “I know you feel the same things I do when we kiss. When we touch. And it’s not just our dust. It goes deeper than that.”
He’d inclined his head as he’d been speaking, his voice growing fainter though his lips had come closer. Ingrid didn’t know what to do. She did feel something when they kissed. She did like it. But she didn’t long for Vander’s kisses when they were apart the same way she did Luc’s. She longed for Vander’s company. His friendship. The comfort that came from being with him.
Ingrid wrenched her hand from his and stepped away. She couldn’t bear to look at him. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him. But she had to.
“Vander …,” she said, her next words still undecided.
They remained that way. For right then, the floor gave a violent shake. Or perhaps her legs had curiously lost their strength. Either way, Ingrid tumbled forward. The lights started to wink, and a voice rose from somewhere within the apartment building. The voice was getting louder, and even as blackness swirled thick and stole away Ingrid’s sight, the words became distinguishable: “Come, my seedlings. It is time.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Grayson had hailed a hackney as soon as he’d left Vander’s flat. Just past the Arc de Triomphe, however, he’d pounded on the roof and asked to be let out. The air was crisp, there wasn’t a single cloud over Paris, and he wanted to keep his body moving instead of cooped up in the back of a stale cab.