Carlisle watches him go with an expression I can't quite read. Finally, that subtle smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. "He cares about you a great deal."
The observation catches me off guard, and suddenly the playful atmosphere evaporates. "We're all each other has had for a long time."
"What's that like?" Carlisle asks, and for once, there's no slyness in his voice. Just genuine curiosity. "The bond you share?"
I think about Felix, about the blood on his hands that's there because of me, for me. About nights when the shadows got too loud and he held me until they quieted. About a promise made in hell that we'd get out together or not at all.
"You wouldn't understand," I say quietly.
"No," he agrees, surprising me. "Perhaps not."
We stand there in the silence of the range, surrounded by weapons and the ghosts of bullets fired in play rather than anger. It's weird, this moment of almost-honesty with someone who probably dissects people for fun.
"I understand one thing, though." His voice is thoughtful, like he's working through a puzzle. "Vengeance. It's what drives Felix, isn't it? That cold fury that never quite goes away."
My breath catches. Because he's right. Felix runs on rage refined into something sharp enough to cut diamonds.
He's killed for me. Almost died for me a hundred times, and yet deep down, I know what he lives for.
"We're alike in that way," Carlisle continues. "But you... you're driven by something else entirely."
"What?" The word comes out more defensive than I intended.
He moves closer, and I should step back but I don't. Can't. Won't. His fingers brush a strand of hair behind my ear, thetouch so gentle it doesn't seem possible from hands that have killed more people than he bothers to count.
"Love," he says simply. "Devotion. Such a fierce little creature with such pure motivation." He leans in, close enough that I can feel his breath on my earlobe, and his voice drops to something that makes my knees weak. "It makes you utterly fascinating."
He inhales, taking in my scent, and I'm frozen. If he kissed me right now, I honestly don't know what I'd do. Push him away? Pull him closer? Stab him with one of the many available weapons? All seem equally possible.
But he doesn't kiss me. He pulls back, that dangerous smile playing at his lips, and heads for the door.
"Turn the lights off when you're finished," he says over his shoulder, casual as discussing the weather.
And then he's gone, leaving me alone in a room full of loaded weapons.
The realization hits me like a slap. He's trusting me. Or maybe he's suicidal. Here I am, someone who tried to kill him, surrounded by enough firepower to level a small building, and he just... walked away.
The shadows whisper their theories, but I'm not listening. I'm too busy trying to figure out what the fuck just happened and why my lips are tingling from a kiss that didn't even happen.
Maybe it's both, I think. Trust and suicidality.
For someone like Carlisle, maybe they're the same thing.
Chapter
Twenty-Six
FELIX
The stairs feel like they're stretching longer with each step, my legs burning with the kind of rage that makes murder seem like a reasonable solution. Behind me, I can still hear Juniper's laughter echoing from the basement, bright and genuine in a way she rarely is with anyone except me. The sound cuts through my chest like a fucking serrated blade.
Carlisle. That psychotic piece of shit with his perfect hair and his British accent and his way of making violence look like foreplay. Of course he knows exactly how to play with Juniper's dark edges. Of course he appreciates the parts of her that most people run screaming from.
Because he's like me. A predator wearing human skin.
Except Carlisle makes it look fun. Makes it look like a game worth playing instead of a burden to carry. And Juniper... fuck, she lights up around him in a way that makes something in my chest crack and bleed.
Maybe he's better for her. Maybe they all are. The thought tastes like poison, but I can't stop swallowing it down.
