Forget About Midnight (Alexa O'Brien, Huntress #9)(97)

Willow pondered this, unable to hide the shadows that flitted through his eyes. “Like I said, I’m still me. Do I want payback for what he did to Christina? Like you wouldn’t believe. But vengeance won’t change Shya. It would only change me.”

I nodded, understanding completely. Willow was still too good to ever be as bad as Shya, and I understood that if anyone was going to make Shya pay for what he did to Willow, it would have to be me.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” Willow continued, “I’m off to crash a party I wasn’t invited to. There are some perks to regaining my power even though it’s now dark. Ruining demon rituals is one of them.” He smirked, looking pleased with himself.

Willow rose and held out his arms in an invitation I couldn’t refuse. I hugged him tight, trying not to focus on the evil force thrumming through him but instead on the genuine warmth and purity of his spirit.

When we pulled back, worry creased Willow’s brow. “You need to reconnect with Arys. Whatever this is doing to you, it’s also doing to him. Remember that.”

He kissed my forehead and vanished. Our visit had been much too short, but I was elated, relieved, all kinds of good at having seen him. Willow was a constant inspiration. Rather than being a victim of what he had become, he was using it to thwart the plans and rituals of other demons. The dark battling the dark, an intriguing concept. A rarity I was sure.

Willow was all dark and still choosing to serve the light. It was similar to what Falon had shared. Could creatures of darkness truly serve the light from the inside? And more specifically, could I? Could I find a way to honor the light within me while still being plagued by the dark?

As I pondered it, I surveyed the room, taking note of the vampires present and the herd of humans that continued to pour into the building. They made it so easy. Too easy. That’s what Arys hated so much about the place. It stole the thrill of the hunt.

And yet, I could also see why Kale did enjoy The Wicked Kiss. One could spend days screwing and bleeding a victim or victims, never surfacing from the fog, staying constantly wrapped in the high of it all.

There was no safe way to be a vampire. We were damned either way.

Willow was right. This madness was not mine alone. Arys was suffering too. Not only was he suffering, he was giving me the space I’d asked for. I’d fought so hard with him so many times about such things. Now I missed them. Careful what I wish for, right?

My phone vibrated in my bag. It was a text message from Jez: Don’t worry about me. I’m at home. It’s all good.

She must have thought I was an idiot or something. Her message was intended to keep me away and to make me stop calling. I wasn’t going to be that easily deterred.

I went out to my car to fetch the change of clothing I always kept in the trunk. It was Werewolf 101 really. Then I headed back inside to Kale’s room to use the shower. Yeah, like that wasn’t going to be weird.

Walking into room number thirteen was a face punch of leather and the residual hum of honey-sweet energy. Maybe I should’ve told Gabriel to take Kale’s room. This was much harder than I’d anticipated.

My gaze took in everything: The half-empty liquor bottle and lipstick-stained cup on the table. The haphazard arrangement of blankets on the bed. The room needed a cleaning. Removing all evidence of Kale from it was a priority.

The bathroom was well stocked with hair care items, body wash, and toothpaste. I paused in the doorway, staring at Kale’s things. How could he possibly fair better in Las Vegas? Kale had barely maintained his sanity here, screwing and bleeding everything in sight. Sin City would destroy him.

Between worry for Kale, the incident I’d just had with Shaz, and the never-ending haunting of Arys always in the back of my mind, I was mentally and emotionally exhausted.

Briefly I considered going into the club to snag myself a victim. Since I couldn’t trust myself not to break my own no-kill rule, I resisted and instead got into the shower.

All of the scrubbing and soap in the world wouldn’t wash off the stains of being inside the FPA building. My body might be cleansed, but smut stained my soul. And I didn’t even care. Not really. I’d gone from overemotional to uncomfortably numb. I couldn’t decide which was worse.

I was standing in the bathroom naked, towel drying my hair, when there was a knock on the main door. Probably some scantily clad little thing coming to bleed for Kale.

After wrapping a towel around me, I rolled blue eyes at my reflection in the mirror and went to answer the door. With my hand on the knob, I hesitated, feeling for the energy of whoever was on the other side.

It wasn’t human. Not vampire either. I got the sense that whoever it was, they were cloaking their identity. That narrowed it down considerably.

“Falon,” I said as I opened the door. “What the hell are you doing here? You’re either incredibly brave or unbearably stupid.”

With hands stuffed in his pockets, Falon leaned against the doorframe, the epitome of forced casual. Dressed differently than the last time I saw him, he almost looked human in jeans and a dark-blue shirt. There was no evidence of the beating he’d taken from Willow.

Silver eyes sparkled with amusement as he assessed my attire, or lack thereof. “And you’re naked. It’s like you knew I was coming or something.”

“Or something,” I said with a scowl. “What do you want?”