Her heartbeat is visible in the soft skin at her neck—fast and hard. I’m making her nervous. With disappointment, I raise her hand to my mouth and kiss the pad of her thumb. Then I let her go and stand. I’m shocked by how good I feel, even with the low rumble of constant pain plaguing me.

“Get some rest,” I say.

She scrambles under the covers and hides her face. I wish I could see her colors.

I climb into my own bed, though I’m not at all tired. My skin is prickling with energy and the low throb of pain pulses in my abdomen. Can I truly go a whole day without feeding the beast? Today, I feel as if I can fight it. I feel like I can take on the world. For the first time ever, I want to attempt not to work.

“Kaidan?” she whispers.

My pulse sprints. “Yes?”

“I’m not trying to judge. I’m just curious. Um . . . are you going out tonight?”

The concern and jealousy in her voice send a thrill to my core and I bite down and swallow. “I don’t think I will.”

She says nothing as my heart pounds, and I’d do anything to see her colors again. Is she happy? Is she proud of me?

I’m not ready to fall asleep. Tomorrow is a big day for Anna. The day she meets her father. The plan was to meet the nun first, but when Anna called the convent, she was told Sister Mary was not well enough to visit yet.

I know she’s nervous, but I don’t know how to help her with that. What is special to Anna? People. Her spirituality. I’ve seen her pray over meals, silently. It freaks me out a bit, I won’t lie. Inviting the Maker into one’s thoughts . . . I shudder at the idea. But it’s part of her, and I need her to know I accept it.

“Ann?”

“Yes?”

“It won’t bother me if you need to, you know, properly pray, however you do it.”

“Oh.” She sounds surprised. “Okay, thanks.”

She pulls her arms out of the blankets and clasps her hands under her chin.

She’s really going to do it, right now. It’s so bizarre. Her eyes close and her face calms in meditative peace. My eyes dart about the room, expecting a beam of light or something, but the room remains calm and comfortable.

Anna is talking to God. I could never do that. We are so different. Opposites, really.

Her eyes open and I realize I’m staring like a total creeper. What the hell have I become? I want to laugh at the complete lunacy of my turnabout. It’s like I’m a bloody woman or something. Next thing you know I’ll be petting puppies and cooing at babies.

Ugh, no. Babies is where I draw the line.

“Good night,” Anna whispers. I nod, slightly discombobulated, as she turns out the light, bathing us in darkness.

CHAPTER NINE

First Time for Everything

“Don’t wanna let you down, but I am hell bound.”

—“Demons” by Imagine Dragons

I wake with a low, underlying ache in my gut.

I am not right in many ways at this moment. I slept so hard last night and this morning that I didn’t even hear when Anna woke before me. I only just opened my eyes when I heard the shower cut on. Whisperers could have been swarming the room and I wouldn’t have known. I drag a hand through my hair.

The feelings I developed for Anna yesterday haven’t gone away—they’re still there, glaringly bright and agile inside of me—but a bit of the idiocy has worn off and I can see straighter.

I feel as if this trip has been a joy ride at our own private theme park, teetering dangerously above reality. I’m still on that ride, but the end is in sight. This cannot last forever. On one hand my chest drops into my stomach when I think of being apart from her, and on the other hand I’m eager to get us back to safety, apart from each other. It’s stupid to tempt fate, to endanger ourselves.

Just another day or so of this ride, and then it’s back to reality.

Speaking of reality, my body is right furious with me. The ache thuds as I imagine Anna in the shower, covered in slick bubbles, her hands sliding over every peak and valley and . . . ugh, damn it. I have to stop.

I stand and yank on a pair of cargo shorts and a T-shirt, modifying myself in a way that makes my issue less noticeable. I lean my fists against the side table and squeeze my eyes shut, breathing through the pain like a fucking woman in labor. Then I order room service, because Anna will need her strength when she finally meets her father, Duke Belial, in a few hours.

I haven’t let myself think much on their meeting. Now, as I lie back on the bed, I feel dazed at the thought of what might become of the little half angel after this day. When I met Anna’s adopted mother, Patti told me she believes Belial has Anna’s best interests at heart based on what she was told by the nun, but I am skeptical. He is a demon, and they can be quite convincing.

Nevertheless, there’s no hiding for Anna now. My father knows about her. If she tries to hide she will be hunted, found, and killed. I’m doing her a favor by bringing her to Belial. If he tries to make her work, she’ll be upset, no doubt, but she’ll be alive. My gut twists as I imagine her refusing, and I curse myself for not training her better these two days. Yesterday I selfishly coddled her innocence and soaked in her nurturing spirit, rather than attempting to show her some Neph survival skills, like how to pretend you don’t give a shit. Yeah, I should have done things differently, but now it’s too late.

Anna comes into the room looking fresh-faced with damp hair, and the beast inside me growls. I know, boy, I tell him. She’s bloody gorgeous, isn’t she? Ah, the things we’d do to her. . . .