Chapter 5

Over the next month, Lucian grew quieter and quieter. He left earlier, came home later, and carried more wounds each time.

Every time I put ointment on him, I counted the new scars on his body. One, two, three. Bruises layered on bruises, scars stacked on scars.

One night he finally said, "I found a new place. We move tomorrow afternoon."

"You don't have to look for anywhere," I said without lifting my head. "Wherever you are is where I live."

He went still.

I realized I'd let too much slip and quickly added, "I mean, we'll still be poor after we move. What's the difference."

"The windows are big," he said. "The bedroom and the living room both get sun. You're afraid of the dark, so sunlight will help. I've set up a coffin for myself. It's fine."

I didn't answer.

That night I cried for a long time under the covers, muffling my mouth so no sound got out. The curse jabbed me five or six times, and I curled into a ball with the pain, but the tears wouldn't stop.

He must have heard something. The next morning he left a bag of blood dates by my pillow. I didn't know where he'd gotten them. The package was stamped with the black market's mark.

I wanted to tell him to stop spending money on me. To stop getting hurt for me. To stop doing anything for me at all.

But I couldn't get the words out. And because I couldn't, he kept getting hurt.

On moving day, Lucian dug the black tailcoat out from the very bottom of the junk pile.

He folded it neatly, put it in a paper bag, then stood looking at that paper bag for a long time.

"Not throwing it out?" I asked on purpose.

"Keeping it," he said. "Might need it someday."

"You still want to be a noble again?" I sneered. "Stop dreaming. You haul cargo now. You don't even have a vampire's power anymore."

He didn't fire back. He set the paper bag on the highest shelf, out of reach. Later, while he was gone, I stood on a stool and took it down to look. The tailcoat had been pressed flat, and the spare silver crest at the collar was polished bright.

In the inside pocket of the coat, there was a photo.

It was a girl of about fourteen, standing on a bridge, the streetlamp behind her blurring her out. She wore clothes that didn't fit, her hair a mess, gauze wrapped around the back of her hand.

Her eyes were very bright.

It was me, four years ago.

On Christmas, I wore that necklace and went to find Lucian.

He'd said we'd have dinner together that evening. I got to the meeting spot an hour early and stood across the street waiting for him.

I saw him come out of an alley. He'd changed into a new coat, navy blue, one I hadn't seen before. He stood at the curb like he was waiting for someone.

Then a woman came over from the other side and stood beside him.

I knew her. Vivienne Voss, the daughter of the black-market fight ring's owner, a pureblood vampire. She wore a navy coat with her family's mark pinned at the collar.

But when the two of them stood side by side, I still felt something close around my heart.

Vivienne tilted her head, smiling sweetly. Lucian turned slightly, as if listening to her. The streetlamp lit them both, their two shadows stretched long and overlapping.

They looked like people from the same world. Vampires, nobles, the same lifespan, the same language. They could live a few hundred years together.

Then I turned and walked away.

I dialed a number. A drifting mercenary I knew from a bar, who owed me a favor. "Come over. Play my lover."

He came fast. I had him strip and rumple the sheets.

A car pulled up. Lucian was home.

I opened the door and leaned against the frame, hair loose, collar slightly open.

He walked in with a folder in his hand. When he saw the man in the bedroom, his whole body stopped.

"Nora." His voice was still steady. "Who's this?"

"Don't put on an act," I sneered. "You cheated too, didn't you."

"I didn't." His hand slid off the folder.

"Why can't we just each do our own thing. I'm bored of this. Why do you think I've been stringing you along this whole time."

"She's only a partner from the fight ring," he cut in, his voice dropping. "I never touched her. Not once."

I didn't respond. He pulled the thing out of the folder himself. It was a property deed, brand new, with my name on it.

"I told you I'd give you a home. Please don't give up on me."

"Don't use that to disgust me. Without your noble standing, what can you give me. Why should I follow you and suffer."

I took the deed and threw it in his face.

He didn't dodge. The hard corner caught his cheekbone, and a red line slowly welled with blood.

He just stood there staring at me, staring for a long, long time. I opened my mouth to say something more, and he slowly bent and picked up the deed. "Okay."