“That is my pattern, Mr. Owens.” She spoke evenly, forcing emotion to stay in check. She’d need to be more careful; she’d need to figure out how to cope with the cage that was tightening around her—but not now, not when she was still feeling unsettled. She stared at Cillian and said, “I drive. I walk. It’s how I make the world make sense.”
“Well, next time, you’ll take me with you.” Cillian looked frazzled. “You drive like you’re invulnerable. I thought you were going to get killed coming off the interchange.”
She didn’t have the heart to ask which interchange. She didn’t recall parts of the drive. It was the anchors—red brick, cold metal shelf—that mattered. That was the world.
“I’m going home,” she told him.
“Please, Eavan, I need you to try to cooperate.” Cillian’s expression was about as frayed as her emotions had been. “Even if you don’t think you’re in danger, Nyx does. Slipping away from me puts us both in danger.”
“I’m going home,” she repeated. “I needed air. Now, I need sleep.”
For a moment, she thought Cillian was going to say more, but instead he nodded. “I’m driving. The car will stay here.”
And Eavan was too shaky to fight him. She didn’t hand over the keys, but she did walk quietly to his car with him.
7
Eavan stayed in her apartment for the next three days. She’d called and quit her job without notice; being around mortals right now was untenable. Of course, being around Others wasn’t a good idea, either. Nyx had been tracking her; the older glaistig knew something was going on. Eavan couldn’t risk going out, couldn’t face talking to Nyx, and couldn’t be sure she had the resolve to resist killing Daniel. She was trapped by her own biology. Her inability to deal with hunting Daniel was wearing on her. Cillian’s kindness only made matters worse. Being trapped with him, a temptation always in reach, was slowly wearing away whatever control she still had left.
“I called the grocery to deliver food. Your kitchen was barren.” He stood in her doorway, not crossing the threshold, but clearly expecting her to let him in. “Eavan?”
She blinked at him, aware that she’d been staring. He had the loveliest green flecks in his eyes. And kissable lips…
She turned sharply and walked away. “I was fine with takeout.”
She ordered; he accepted the delivery in the hall, and once the delivery people left, he knocked on her door. Not that he needed to knock. She was watching through the peephole every time.
“Groceries are being delivered here. Just go in the bedroom when they arrive and—”
“I’m not in danger from delivery guys,” she snapped. Being housebound was not getting easier. Knowing it was self-imposed wasn’t helping, either. “I’m not in danger from any…” She started coughing. The words weren’t ones she could force out: they were a lie.
He stepped closer. “Why are you—”
“Fuck it,” she muttered.
And then she pinned him to the wall.
It wasn’t her first kiss; it wasn’t even the first time she’d lost control this badly. She had a leg hitched around him, pressing herself against his responding body, trying not to grind against him—and failing. He’d wrapped an arm around her, supporting her weight. A gentleman even now…
With decided effort, she pulled back. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Eavan?” Cillian looked stunned.
“I’m sorry.” She backed up, bumping into a small bookshelf in the process, sending paperbacks crashing to the floor.
He reached out to touch her face. “It’s okay. You’re under pressure and…it’s okay.”
Eavan ran to her bedroom while Cillian let the delivery guy into the apartment. She could hear his muffled voice, like a siren’s song in her safe harbor. She stood with one hand palm-flat on the bedroom door and the other on the knob. Hunting Daniel had made both hungers all-consuming. For the first time in years, Eavan wasn’t sure she could stop herself from losing control of at least one appetite. Sex is safer. She hadn’t killed anyone; she could bring Cillian to her bed. It was safe.
It’s not.
She could wrap her body around his.
And have just a taste of his breath during. I could stop. Just a taste…
She’d started to turn the knob when the phone rang. She walked over to the bed and lifted her phone from the night table.
“Eve?” Daniel asked. “How are you?”
She sat on the edge of the mattress. Her hands were shaking. “Daniel? How did you get my number?”
“Come see me, Eve.” He paused just long enough that she could hear hesitance. “I miss you.”
“No.” She closed her eyes, wrapped one hand around the bedpost, and tried to focus. It wasn’t working. Her whole body shook.
“Do you want to talk to Chastity?”
Eavan’s heart thundered loud enough that it roared in her ears, but her voice was whisper-quiet. “What?”
“One of the girls…not the same Chastity. Just another mindless doll…right here in my arms…waiting for a rescue.” He murmured to someone who moaned into the phone. “She’s a co-ed. Well, she was…”
“What are you doing?” Eavan squeezed the bedpost until the wood cracked and cut her palm, stinging as blood slid between her fingers and trickled down the dark wood. “You can’t do this…Let her go.”
“Come see me, Eve. I’ll be at Chaos tonight.” Then he disconnected before she could reply.
Eavan slowly unwrapped her fingers from the splintered wood of her bedpost. A sliver of wood was embedded in her skin. She stared at it as she sat quietly, trying to force her mind to process Daniel’s challenge.
She dialed the only person she could be almost honest with. “Muriel?”
“What’s wrong?”
Eavan explained, and then she waited. There was no judgment, no leash that followed. The vampire said only: “I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Get dressed.”
Even though Muriel was too kind to say it, Eavan knew she was making a mistake, but staying here was a mistake, too. Her body was screaming for something. It didn’t matter which urge she fed. Staying near Cillian isn’t an option. She was too tempted before Daniel’s call; now her body was thrumming like something feral.
The delivery guy was still out there. That made it safer to slip out of the room, to walk past him. It was the best opening she could hope for.
Steeling herself, Eavan opened her door and went to take a cold shower. She didn’t look at him, didn’t step nearer him, although she could feel his gaze on her.
After a painfully cold shower, she went back to her room and got dressed.
Cillian was at the bedroom door. He had been for several minutes. “Eavan? Can we talk? Maybe you’re feeling too housebound. We can—”
She opened her window. An alarm went off.
Ten minutes left.
Cillian tried the knob. “Damn it. What are you doing?”
Don’t answer. Just go out the window.
She stood looking at the window and then at the door. He was jimmying the lock.
“How in the hell am I to keep you safe if—” He opened the door. “What are you doing?”
“Stay back. Please?” She looked at him, too close and too kind. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
He crossed the room and started to close the window. “If you don’t cooperate, I can’t keep you safe. We’ve talked about this. If it’s the kiss…” Frustration weighed in his voice, his movements, his everything. “It’s okay, Eavan. We can pretend it didn’t happen. People react differently to stress, and…it’s not a big deal.”
Not prey.
He was too close though.