The world was a milky white gold when I pried gritty eyes open. The early morning hue spilled through the window, illuminating my apartment and the reminisce of the previous night.

My clothes had been gathered up off the floor and folded neatly on the coffee table. My makeshift blindfold was placed on top, a navy sash tainted with all the previous night’s mistakes.

I stared at it from my face down position on the sofa, hating it for what it had enabled me to do. It was ridiculous to place blame on a scrap of fabric, and yet I had to shut my eyes against the sight of it.

I’d slept with Cain.

Again.

Only this time because I had wanted to.

Because I had needed it.

Had needed him.

I had sent Kieran away and slept with another man.

Not because I loved Cain, but because my whole life was in shambles.

Because I was completely alone.

Because the alternative was a path I was too scared to even contemplate in case it became too enticing to ignore.

But also, because Cain was a shadow I could walk away from in eight months.

He had no face.

He had no name.

He was merely a sustainable warmth willing to keeping me going until I was free.

God, that made me a bad, selfish person, but I meant nothing to him and no one would get hurt when it ended. Not the way I’d hurt Kieran. That was part of the reason I didn’t want to see Cain’s face. Why I didn’t want to hear his voice. Those were things that would haunt me when I walked away, and there were already too many ghosts keeping me up at night. 

Resigned, I pushed up, using one hand to pin the blanket to my chest. It was the one from my bedroom. Cain must have grabbed it while I’d been sleeping. His kindness only intensified my growing guilt.

But the man himself was gone.

I was alone in the apartment.

I knew it without ever bothering to call out; there was too much silence for another person to be dwelling within its confines. My aloneness echoed with the hollow whimper of an empty tomb.

God, I was feeling morbid. But I had known he wouldn’t stay. Part of me had hoped he would. The other part was relieved he hadn’t. I didn’t think I could face him without the anonymity of darkness, without the crushing weight of defeat and loneliness crippling me. I definitely couldn’t face him with the stain of shame turning my cheeks crimson.

But was it wrong not to want to feel like you had no one and nothing left in the world? Cain may never have taken Kieran’s place, but no one ever could. Kieran would always be the only man holding my heart. There was no question about that. He’d stolen it when I was sixteen and he’d never given it back.

I guess, in a sense, that made him a type of criminal, but I didn’t want it returned. To do so would have only broken its already fragile state, and it was the only part of me not ruined.

The only part of me untouched by David.

The only part he could never take.

Kieran didn’t know it, but he carried the only valuable thing I owned in the palms of his hands. He was the only man I trusted to keep it safe.

It was odd, really. Kieran had always been there, just out of touch, always a burning light during dinners, but he’d never crossed that line that separated us.

He’d never been persistent or insistent in his pursuit.

He’d never openly sought me out.

Yet the last few days, he seemed to be everywhere. His unexpected interest in me was a dream and a curse I couldn’t unravel. I had no idea what had changed his mind seemingly overnight, but it terrified me to think David might notice, especially if Kieran refused to marry Cordelia.

The very thought sent a chill down my spine. It prickled my skin with a million, tiny needles, making me itch.

No.

Whatever had changed Kieran’s mind about the impeccably plotted future David and Walter had created for him, it needed to stop. At the very least, it needed to remove me from the equation. There was nothing David could do to him, so long as I wasn’t involved.

My cellphone chimed across the scarred surface of the coffee table. The plastic vibrated across wood, rattling loudly in the silence.

I pushed to my feet and went to it with the blanket securely twisted around my naked frame.

Cain: “Good morning. I’m sorry I had to leave early again. I’ll do my best not to next time.”

I raised an amused eyebrow at the last part.

Me: “What makes you think there will be a next time?”

Cain: “Look on your counter. If that doesn’t buy your forgiveness, I’ll make it up to you tonight.”

Intrigued, I padded into the kitchen, the blanket trailing behind me. My gaze swept over the counter space, not that it was necessary. The only machine I owned was a coffeemaker. The chipped linoleum covering was otherwise bare, except for the paper bag from the bakery down the street and a takeout cup of coffee.

I stared at both with a hitch in my chest. 

He wasn’t playing fair.

Me: “A bagel and coffee? You need to do better,” I teased in my message.

Cain: “Bagel? Oh, I wouldn’t dream of being so ordinary, lady spy.”

Bemused, but severely amused, I went to the package and peeked inside.

Glazed in a fine, powdery mist of white sugar and deep fried to absolute perfection, the dozen confections winked up at me from their neat little box.

I was delirious with excitement. I could scarcely type fast enough.

Me: “Beignets?! How did you know?”

His response was a winky emoji, followed by, “Maybe you’re not the only spy.”

I hadn’t had beignets in years, not the real kind, the ones you can only get on the cobblestone streets of New Orleans. I must have devoured hundreds during that weekend David had taken the entire family to see the Mardi Gras parade. The tiny bistro just on the corner of Bourbon Street had indulged me with plate after plate with a never-ending side order of cafe au lait. It was the first chance I’d had to be alone. I wasn’t even sure how I’d managed it without anyone noticing my absence. But it had been the most magical hour of my life and all I’d done was sit at a patio table while sultry jazz had filled the evening air and the whole world had swirled around me in a whirlwind of colors and lights.

Yet it didn’t explain how Cain knew about my love of the pastries.

No one knew.

Not a soul.

Who would I tell?

But he knew.

A lucky guess? What were the odds of that?

I glanced around my kitchen, around my sitting area, trying to find the thing that had given him the clue, but there was nothing.

Me: “Seriously, how did you know?” I typed back.

Cain: “I’ll tell you, but only because I don’t want you to think I’m a weird pervert. I saw the picture of you on your dresser when I was getting the blanket this morning.”

It took me walking into my bedroom to remember which picture he spoke of. I’d forgotten all about it and years had obscured it behind other photos and random clutter. I was actually surprised he could see it at all. But it was a polaroid photo of me the bistro owner had taken after my fourth plate of beignets. I was grinning around chubby cheeks, looking embarrassed, but pink with pleasure.

It had truly been one of those rare moments when I felt so blissfully free. Had I been smart at all, I would have stayed missing. I would have simply slipped into the crowd and vanished forever. I was an idiot for returning.

The buzz in the palm of my hand jerked me back to the present and the man waiting for my answer.

Cain: “Satisfied?”

I sucked in a breath before responding, Me: “Yes, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so paranoid.”

Cain: “You can make it up to me.”

I bit my lip as my fingers moved over the screen.

Me: “How?”

Cain: “What are you wearing?”

I laughed.

Me: “The blanket.”

Cain: “Lose the blanket, find a mirror, and remind me what I have to look forward to seeing tonight.”

Me: “Who says you’re coming over tonight?”

Cain: “The hard cock in my pants obsessed with your pussy.”

Heat swelled through me, a slow, delicious rise of need that almost made me consider it.

Me: “Send me a picture of him first.”

Cain: “I’m in the middle of a board meeting with fifteen other members. I pull him out here and we’ll have some serious problems.”

I gasped.

Me: “And you want me to send you naked pictures?”

Cain: “I desperately need something to stop my brain from leaking out of my ears.”

Me: “You know, you have seen me completely naked, on several occasions. You already know what you’ll be seeing tonight. I have absolutely no idea what you look like.”

Cain: “That’s your fault. I hate that stupid blindfold.”

He had me there.

Me: “My point is to use your imagination.”

Cain: “Oh, I have been. All morning I’ve been imagining you and me on this massive table. I’ve fucked you in at least eight different positions already. You really liked the reversed cowgirl, by the way.”

I burst out laughing.

Me: “You’ll have to show me that one.”

Cain: “Only if you remove the blindfold.”

I sobered slightly.

Me: “Not yet.”

Cain: “Are you afraid I’m hideous?”

I snorted even though he couldn’t hear me.

Me: “I’ve felt you. You’re not hideous, and I wouldn’t care if you were.”

Cain: “Are you afraid you might fall hopelessly in love with me?”

I chuckled.

Me: “Yes, definitely that one.”

Cain: “What about that other guy that you love?”

The mention of Kieran chased away all my good humor, leaving me feeling cold and brittle.

Me: “I’d rather not talk about him.”

Cain: “Did he hurt you? Should I take a contract out on his life?”

A grin turned up the corner of my mouth.

Me: “No, he didn’t do anything. It’s me. I’m an idiot.”

Cain: “He probably deserved it.”

Me: “He didn’t. He didn’t deserve any of it. But I have to get ready for classes. I’ll text you when I get home.”

I dropped the phone down on my stripped bed. The blanket followed. I took a quick shower and dressed warmly after a quick peek at my weather app. I grabbed my books and carried them into the kitchen. They were left on the counter while I dumped the coffee into a sauce pan. The element was switched on.

While I waited for my drink to warm up, I stuffed my books into my bag. I did my hair and makeup and located my bank card off the shelf Kieran had placed it on. By the time I swung my coat on, my coffee was boiling. I dumped it back into the takeout cup, grabbed a beignet from the bag, hoisted my bag onto my shoulder, and sprinted from the apartment.

My Honda Civic was waiting in my usual parking spot when I pushed out into the frigid morning. Its familiar, ugly appearance brought a smile to my face as I hurried to it, keys already in hand. My bags were tossed into the passenger seat before I climbed in behind the wheel.

Leather stiff from the cold nestled my body as I started the engine. It sputtered to life in its usual gruff process, but to my surprise, the heater whirred to life, spilling the most glorious flow of warm air into the cabin. The feel of it caressing chilled skin almost made me cry out in joy.

I hadn’t used the heater since the previous winter when I’d been living in the backseat and the poor thing had died from overuse. But it was working again.

Kieran.

It had to be. There was no other explanation.

Swearing to thank him when I saw him at Sunday dinner, I put the car into drive and got myself to my first class.

I DIDN’T GO STRAIGHT home after school ended. As much as I was dying to return to that bag of powdered pastries, I had more important things to do first, like pay a visit to the library and their photocopier.

It was almost three months since my last job closed down.

Three months where I’d been living off the loan given to me by Hans after I passed my second interview. It had been just enough to get me through the following weeks before the auction, but it hadn’t lasted much longer than that. It wasn’t supposed to. That was what the auction had been for. But I couldn’t use that money, but I needed money to go into my account to pay for my bills, so I needed a job, a physical location that was paying me for providing a service that wouldn’t arouse David’s suspicion. There were plenty of jobs on campus. I just needed to find one.

With my freshly printed resumes still warm from the machine pressed to my chest, I left my car in the parking lot and footed my way around to the local businesses. I avoided food services. I couldn’t stand the feel of grease on my skin or coating my hair. I skipped bars and clubs, anywhere that required mixing rowdy frat boys with alcohol, and went straight for retail.

I submitted my request at several boutiques and a few shoe stores. Most were already overstaffed, but I left my resume anyway.

When those didn’t pan out, I hit the bookstores and comic stands. I knew I had no chance with the latter when I didn’t know the difference between the Green Lantern and the Green Goblin. Radioactive goo didn’t seem to be the answer the man behind the counter was hoping for when he’d asked me.

He smiled kindly and said they’d be in touch.

I didn’t believe him.

But it didn’t matter.  Comics weren’t my thing anyway.

I found my thing down a side street, tucked into an alcove like a secret. I would have missed it if it weren’t for the two girls who stumbled out. But there it was.

A record and coffee shop built out of red brick walls and brightly lit windows. A sign hung over the door, calling it the Music Den.

Now this was perfect.

Resumes in hand, I hurried in and made a beeline straight to the register.

A girl about my age looked up from her indie magazine. The light glinted off the silver hoop in her nose. Dark eyes ringed in thick kohl blinked at me.

“Yeah?”

I offered her my best smile. “Hi, I was wondering if...”

I lost her to something just beyond my shoulder. I thought someone was stealing the way her jaw had gone slack and her eyes wide.

I turned to follow her stare, and my own stomach flipped.

Kieran stood a few stands over, dark head bent, face set in concentration while he pulled records from their slots and examined their covers. His movement was fluid and precise; he could have been examining fine art for all his focus. I could have slipped right past him and out the door and he would never have known.

But I couldn’t, not even if I had wanted to.

There was an ache in my chest I couldn’t account for and a twisting in my gut I couldn’t ignore. And I had an inexplicable need to throw myself into his arms, mash my face into his collarbone, and beg him not to let go.

I was clearly delusional, but oh, how I wanted to.

Instead, I found myself edging towards him, my resumes crumpled against my chest. I didn’t know what I would say when I got there, or what I would do, but I kept going.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology came first. I hadn’t realized I’d been thinking it until it hung awkwardly in the silence it had created.

Kieran’s head came up, his golden eyes round. They caught sight of me and widened even further.

He evidently hadn’t been expecting me either.

“Gabby?”

My chest stuttered the way it always did when he said my name like that. He was the only person on earth who had ever called me Gabby, and I loved it.

“Hi,” I whispered.

He set the record in his hand down.

“Hi.” His gaze worked over me, making me painfully conscious of my backpack’s weight slumping me over. “How are you?”

His concern was a hot dagger carving into my chest. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe around its fine point incision. I couldn’t look directly at him either, my shame and guilt a palpable force twisting me into pieces.

“Gabby?” His body shifted in my direction.

I drew in a breath and held it, locking it into my chest cavity until it hurt and the room went blurry. I didn’t let it out until my lungs started screaming. When I did, I vomited it out along with all the words trapped with it.

“I’m sorry,” I gasped. “I’m so sorry about everything. I never should have said those things. I shouldn’t have lied and made you think...”

“Hey.” Ten long fingers curled around my arms, each one a lit match burning through the bulk of my jacket to singe the flesh underneath. “Deep breath.”

I struggled to comply. I knew if I didn’t, there was a good chance I’d pass out. But the only thing breathing helped accomplish was bringing tears to my eyes and a lump to my throat.

“Come on.”

One hand dropped away. The other followed the length of my arm to my balled fist. The bloodless fingers were opened gently, allow circulation to resume before threaded them with his.

The contrast was astounding. Not only in coloring, but size and temperature. My entire hand vanished in the folding of his twining through the slender digits. His skin, a few shades darker than my vampire paleness, seemed almost golden in comparison. His nails were neatly trimmed, immaculately kept while mine looked like they’d had a war with a shredder. That alone nearly made me pull away.

But he didn’t seem to notice as he led me away from the displays towards the tiny café tucked up into one corner. There were only two tiny tables crammed into one corner with the counter and pastry display claiming full dominance over the rest.

It was cozy.

Intimate.

The sort of place lovers could nestle in close while sipping lattes and keeping out of the chill. Definitely not the sort of place for a serious discussion.

Kieran nudged me into one of the metal chairs by the picture window and left me there. I stuffed my resumes into my bag and set the thing next to me on the floor, all the while watching him walk to the order counter. He murmured quietly to the girl on the other side. A moment later, he returned with two cups of coffees and a raspberry cheesecake. My favorite.

One steaming mug and the platter of cake was placed in front of me. The other mug was set in front of him where he clasped both hands around the ceramic.

I didn’t touch mine.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered to the steam rising off my drink.

“What did I tell you about unnecessary apologies?”

I forced my chin up. My gaze tangled with his across the cramped little table.

“It’s not unnecessary, you know that.”

He shook his head slowly. “Explain it to me then.”

I knew he deserved an explanation. What I’d said to him had been unfair and cruel. He didn’t deserve to be treated that way when he’d never done anything but be kind to me.

“I shouldn’t have lied to you,” I began quietly. “What I said ... it was wrong of me. It was childish. I don’t ever ... I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“Why did you?”

“Lie?” At his nod, I lowered my eyes to the table. “I panicked, maybe? You kept pushing and I didn’t know what to say.”

“Why say anything?” he pressed. “Why push me away? If you’re not interested—”

“It’s not that,” I cut in. “There are things I can’t tell you, and please don’t make me,” I stressed when he opened his mouth. “I don’t ever want to lie to you again, but I need you to understand that it’s not because I don’t feel the same. It’s not that I don’t want...”

“Yes?” he prompted when heat sweltered up into my face and the words clung to the roof of my mouth.

“You,” I whispered so low even I almost didn’t hear it. “Because I do.” I bit my lip and dared at peek up at him.

The light from the window radiated around him in a cool splendor that highlighted the dark threads of his hair and pooled in his eyes, turning them a delicious, honey gold. He looked almost angelic bathed in its purity.

But there was nothing pure about the raw heat and hunger in his eyes, in the hard slant of his jaw, in the way he didn’t seem to be breathing. He looked feral.

Dangerous.

Hot.

“You can’t tell me you want me, then tell me I can’t have you, Gabby. Not without a damn good reason.”

What was a good reason without telling him the truth? Part of me knew he’d believe me, but that was the problem.

He’d believe me.

He’d confront David.

He’d try and protect me.

He’d lose.

It was the same reason I didn’t simply throw myself at him and let him be my shield. It wasn’t that I doubted he could save me. He probably could ... for a short time. But David wouldn’t stop. He’d find a way to get me. Maybe even hurt Kieran in the process and I would never allow that.

But I’d promised him I wouldn’t lie to him again.

“I’m seeing someone,” I murmured, using the word seeing loosely.

Not a lie.

But a dangerous half truth.

The moment the words left me, I realized my mistake.

What if he told David?

What if he accidentally brought it up at dinner?

“Not seeing,” I corrected hastily. “We’re not ... I haven’t ...”

God, please don’t tell anyone, I wanted to beg.

He simply stared at me with a look that told me nothing. It was wonderment, disbelief, annoyance, frustration. It was a brittle amusement laced in aggravation. I didn’t understand any of it.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he asked it so quietly I nearly didn’t hear him, but the pain in his voice ... I wished he’d just hit me instead.

“I’m—”

He stopped me with a raised hand and a subtle shake of his head. “If you apologize, I can’t guarantee my actions.”

I was a terrible person.

The worst kind.

Maybe David was right about me.

Maybe I did deserve everything that had and would happen to me.

Someone malicious and vile who hurt innocent people to justify their own peace deserved to rot in hell.

I opened my mouth, apology after apology lined across my tongue, prepared to spill across the table in a flood of regret. But I couldn’t, not without dissolving into tears and I’d already caused enough damage. I couldn’t even move without the threat of falling apart.

I did the only thing I could think of.

I pushed to my feet, grabbed my bag and hurried away before I only embarrassed myself further. I practically ran from the record store. The weight of my bag hindered my escape, but I got as far as a block when my wrist was caught and I was spun.

The whole world whipped around me in a smudged streak of colors. My head rushed. My stomach flopped. Then it all came to a dizzying stop with me pinned against his chest.

“I wasn’t finished,” he growled into my temple. “I’m not going anywhere. Do you understand me? I’m not giving up on you, Gabby.”

The tears I’d been studiously battling back spilled in a collective wave down my cheeks. The breath I’d been meaning to release escaped in a sob I barely caught against the front of his coat.

His hold gentled. His hands lost their white knuckled fists around the crushed fabric of my coat and gingerly tucked his fingers beneath the straps of my bag. The weight was dropped gently down on the ground at our feet, leaving the area clear for his hands to slip up my back. They glided over and down my hair in rhythmic strokes.

“Do you honestly think I ever could?”

I couldn’t think of anything, except the feel of his hold pressing me back together, molding all the broken pieces into place.

“You need to stop.”

But even as I murmured it into the skin of his throat, my arms were twining themselves around his narrow waist. My hands were balling into the material at his back. My eyes were closing and I was melting against him.

Kieran sighed into my ear. “Not a chance.”