My head snapped up
“You’ve got to be kidding me, Rose. He thinks you killed his best friend in cold blood. Killed your ownbrother.” The words were sharp, but my disbelief was stronger than my concern for tone.
“Not anymore,” Rose said, her tone softening even though mine had hardened. She sounded peaceful, and that was dangerous. Dominic had spent the better part of his life hating her, that wasn’t going to change in less than a year.
“And that solved everything then?”
“Pretty much.” Rose smiled softly. “That, and releasing a fair bit of sexual tension.”
I knew Rose was trying to make a joke to ease the hostility between us. I, however, was already picturing the day Dominic decided he still blamed her for the loss of his friend.
“Well, when the hate sex gets old and he leaves you, you can have the extra room in my wing.”
That was irrevocably the wrong thing to say to her. Something close to panic flashed across Rose’s expression before she cleared it with a deep breath. I took a similarly heavy inhale, but to try to release the guilt pooling in my chest.
Rose fell silent for a moment, her piercing green eyes flickering over my face before forcing a tight smile and saying, “I will see you in two days, Daphne.”
It was final, because we both knew I couldn’t say no. I nodded in response, not sure how to navigate the emotions swimming through my head. How I hurt Rose, seeing Lukas, it was all too much.
When Rose decided I was not going to offer verbal confirmation, she tilted her head down once and turned to leave. I watched her movements, turning with her, and my breath caught in my throat. I had felt Rose’s power the second she walked in the room, but I hadn’t noticed Dominic’s.
But there he was, leaning against the far wall with his hands tucked into the pockets of his black pants. He didn’t even bother to look my way, he was too busy tracking Rose’s steps as she walked up to him. When Rose was about three feet away from him, Dominic lifted off the wall as if he was pulled by a magnet and tucked her into his arms.
It was then, as he pressed a kiss to the side of Rose’s head, that he let his eyes drift up and connect with mine. The pure, murderous intent glinting there meant he heard every word exchanged between Rose and I. Someone different might have been convinced that anger—combined with the way his hand was trailing down Rose’s arm in a loving caress—proved that they had worked through their problems and were now properly in love.
I, however, knew gods like him.
And in two days, I would be reminded of just how those people could be when curiosity is satisfied and grudges build and the world goes to shit.
