Forget About Midnight (Alexa O'Brien, Huntress #9)(8)

The validity of his claim was sound. I couldn’t argue, nor did I want to. Kale wasn’t the bad guy here. Neither was Arys really. It was merely my own inability to function in reality, sober of any dark desires.

“If I wasn’t here with you, I’d be out there. Alone.” It was a statement of fact. I wasn’t going to argue. Kale was right. He wasn’t in a good place mentally. Perhaps he never had been.

“You and me don’t exactly bring out the best in each other, huh?” A wry grin brightened up Kale’s face.

It was hard to share his amusement. A grim nod and some sarcasm was the best I could do. “We always did make a good team.”

My hands shook, and I tried to hide them by putting my knees up and huddling in the corner of the couch. It was hard to stay grounded with so much power thrumming through me. I felt it all the time now, even when I wasn’t tapping it.

Kale watched me hide the evidence of my lack of control. “I thought you were powerful before. But now?” He shook his head. “Shit, it’s impressive. How does it feel?”

We’d discussed this before, lightly. He was always careful not to pry too much. It wasn’t easy for me to talk about when I was in a mood like this.

“It feels like I’ve been drinking espresso non-stop. Only the jitters will never stop. And I won’t ever drink coffee again.” I frowned. That was one thing I would miss very much, but vampires were beyond mortal function. There would be no coffee in my future. “How does it feel to you?”

He knew what I meant. I’d put off asking this question, certain that I already knew the answer. Still, I needed his confirmation.

So much had changed upon my death. If my link to Kale had changed too, it was best to find out now. A release from me was what he’d always wanted. If my death had somehow released him from the hold I had on him, then maybe we could move past the horrible promise he’d made me.

“You don’t know? I figured it was obvious.” Kale turned back to the TV and rubbed a hand over his face. His reluctance to face me was telling. “Nothing changed. Not even when you were dead.”

I didn’t understand. If not even my death had given him a brief reprieve, then what did that mean? “Then the only way you’ll be free of me is if…”

“If I’m the one who’s dead? Maybe. Maybe not even then.” Kale fidgeted with the remote in his hand, doing his best to look at anything except me. “Things have changed. Your heartbeat doesn’t thunder in my head anymore. And your blood no longer calls my name with the same intensity. But I feel you deeper than I ever did. And I still want you in every way.”

“Kale.” I needed to peer into him. To search him for that spark.

He turned back to me with great reluctance. I was an idiot to have hoped anything would have changed. Of course I already knew that it hadn’t. He had carried me away from the sun and killed at my side every night since. That was love, but it was also more than that. My hold over him was stronger than ever.

“I’m sorry,” I said, knowing that it wasn’t good enough but that it was all I had.

“Don’t be. I don’t want to punish you anymore for this. I’ve done enough of that.”

I laughed then. It was bitter, and the timing was wrong. The emotional shifts and mood swings were unpredictable. So I cackled like the mad woman that I was while Kale sat there looking uncertain.

Finally the well of laughter dried up. “It’s really not funny. But if I don’t laugh, I’ll cry. Or worse.”

The couch creaked as Kale slid across to the cushion next to me. I tensed. When he reached for my hand, I expected my heart to race. I was still surprised when it didn’t. My heart wasn’t still, but its beat was so subtle, so slow, that it was almost imperceptible. It was an illusion that a vampire’s heart didn’t beat. It did but just barely.

A rush of nervous energy still flooded me though, as it had when my pulse still pounded for Kale. Though my reaction to him was nowhere close to human, it was just as strong, if not more so.

“Alexa,” he said, giving my hand a squeeze. “I forgive you.”

“Kale, no. You don’t have to let me off so easy. I was unfair to you.”

My senses were vastly stronger. His hand was warm in mine, almost hot from our night of mayhem. Running my finger over the back of his hand, I was aware of every groove of the tiny lines decorating his knuckles. The smoothness of his skin gave me a sinful longing to feel his hands on my body.

“What I did to you was so much worse.” His voice grew husky. So much regret lingered in his eyes. “Can we stop punishing each other? Please.”

My voice caught as I tried to speak. Emotion choked me. Tears threatened, but I was through crying, for tonight anyway. So I fought them back and merely nodded.

On impulse, I threw my arms around him and pressed my face to his neck, inhaling the scent of his subtle cologne. “Yes,” I finally managed to say. “I never wanted this for us, Kale.”

We held tight to one another, seeking closure that even forgiveness would not bring. When it became apparent to me that closure wouldn’t be part of our twisted relationship, I sought escape instead.

I kissed Kale, and though it was not our first kiss that evening, it felt like it was. Without the rush of stolen blood and the blissful power high to warp my train of thought, the kiss wasn’t fueled by my dark side. It was all me, seeking comfort.