“Let him sleep,” I whispered.
He ran a hand through his hair and down his face, looking tired. For a moment, I swore I saw his eyes flash blue and gold in the darkness. He backed out quietly and closed the door. I felt both safer that someone else was in the huge, empty house, and edgy—caught with the weird sense that Julian’s presence both confirmed and denied everything that had happened that night.
The next time I woke up, I smelled coffee. It was disorienting for a moment; the smell of it reminded me of Rachel and Joe and home. There was a heavy but comfortable weight on me, and I realized Adrian was still there, still asleep—although so was one of my legs. I looked over and saw a tray with two mugs, a small bottle of hazelnut creamer, and a note. Pinned under Adrian, I groped awkwardly for it. Adrian murmured and I ran my hand up and down his spine absently as I read.
Caitlin,
Mariana and Dominic will be here in an hour. Don’t let them see you with Adrian.
Julian
My initial response was anger. Then I realized he wasn’t warning me to stay away from Adrian—he was warning me to not let Mariana and Dominic know. And he’d brought us coffee.
I didn’t understand Julian at all.
“Coffee?” Adrian mumbled against my collarbone.
“Yeah,” I said, brushing the hair back from his face as he stretched and looked up at me blearily. “Julian brought it.”
His brow furrowed in confusion. “Julian?”
“He came back a little while ago.”
He blinked. “Julian brought us coffee?”
“I know.”
We disentangled and slowly sat up. My arms looked even worse in the morning light, and I was glad it wasn’t summer, because I had no idea how I’d hide the bruises from Joe and Rachel without long sleeves.
Adrian sucked in a sharp breath, and I looked at him. He placed a hand softly on my jaw and murmured, “Shit, that looks bad.”
I winced at the touch. I’d almost forgotten Tommie had hit me hard enough that I’d nearly blacked out.
“I can’t heal all your injuries until I’ve had more time to recover, but I’ll take care of that before you go home,” he said. I nodded, and he cleared his throat.
We sipped at the coffee for a while in silence. I glanced over at Adrian, suddenly realizing we were both very nearly naked, and that things had been said, and that we’d definitely really, really kissed, for real last night. When I looked over, I realized he had also chosen that moment to look over at me, and we both immediately blushed and buried our faces in our coffee cups. We could fight demons together, but we couldn’t make eye contact after making out. But there was something even better than eye contact, and that was Adrian’s hand finding its way to mine, and holding it. I knew I had a big sloppy grin on my face, so I pressed my forehead to his shoulder so he couldn’t see me smile, and we sat like that for a long time.
“Adrian,” I said after a while. “The things that your dad said, about me—were they true? Were they really hoping that I would die?”
Adrian’s hand tightened painfully around mine, then relaxed. “I don’t know. He’s a liar—but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t telling the truth.”
“So what do we tell your sister about what happened? What do we tell the Council?”
He ran his thumb over mine slowly. “The truth—or part of it. We say that my father came, and tried to—” He paused, swallowing. “He tried to hurt you. I fought him. I scared him off. We came here.”
“Okay,” I whispered. “But what do we do if your dad wasn’t lying? What if the Council wants me dead?”
Adrian shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense. You’re Caitlin, from Connecticut. You’re—”
“Nobody?”
He looked at me seriously. “To them? Yeah. At least, you should be.”
“I don’t understand this. I don’t know who to trust.”
He found my gaze and held it. “Me. You can trust me.”
I wrapped my arms around him, hiding my face against his neck. “Please don’t leave me again,” I said, trembling. “Please don’t shut me out.”
He hugged me to him tightly. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought it would be easier if you hated me.”
I pulled back, searching his eyes. “Why?”
He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against my shoulder. “Julian made me see something I didn’t want to see. And it didn’t occur me to try and find another way.”
“What does that mean?” I whispered.
He looked up at me, pained. “Caitlin—starting now, at eighteen, my aging is reduced by ninety percent. By the time I look thirty, I’ll stop aging completely. I will never grow old. Do you understand what that means?”
I did, but I shook my head, because I didn’t want to know.