Burning Dawn (Page 57)

Burning Dawn (Angels of the Dark #3)(57)
Author: Gena Showalter

“Well, I think you suck,” she huffed, “and kind words aren’t going to change my opinion.”

“You’re right. No, you don’t need to accuse me of lying. I have never lied to you, and I won’t start now.” His voice was soft, as if he hoped to soothe a frightened kitten from a tree. “I do suck. What happened shows my worthlessness, not yours.”

Silent, she looked away from him.

He tried to ignore his hurt. Surely I’m bleeding inside. He stalked into the bathroom to wet a rag with warm water. He cleaned the blood from her skin. Her expression softened, he noticed, and he took heart. He was also pleased to note the worst of her injuries had already knitted together. The only lasting wounds she’d have to deal with were the ones left in her mind. Those, however, he couldn’t heal for her.

She cleared her throat, and when she next spoke, the anger was gone. “Why did the demons come after me? I mean, they mentioned some kind of prince, but—”

“Prince?” The fiend had clearly made his first move.

The fiend would pay.

“Yes. And even though, according to you, I’m some kind of moneygrubbing gold digger, I actually have no desire to be a princess.”

The tidal wave of guilt was inescapable. “You aren’t a gold digger. And the demons struck at you merely to strike at me,” he said. He draped one of his robes over her body, knowing it would clean her clothing. “You may look now.”

Her lashes fluttered open. Looking anywhere but at him, she said, “Nothing’s changed. I’m still the dreaded enemy. So why did you help me?”

“You are not my enemy. I reacted poorly to your origins—”

“Poorly? Ha!” she interjected. “That’s the understatement of the year.”

He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “And I will never be able to articulate how sorry I am. It was wrong of me to blame you for the sins of another woman.”

She opened her mouth, closed it. Her gaze landed on the robe covering her, and she sighed. She eased to a sitting position, her head bowed, and her knees drawn up.

A position of shame.

One he knew well. One he’d vowed never to be in again, and yet, he’d driven another person to it.

He was the one who should be ashamed. “I am so sorry, kulta.”

“Fine. Apology accepted. You’re forgiven. And you’re not worthless,” she added grudgingly. “I can be reasonable and let go of resentment.”

She wanted to mean those words. He could tell. But she wasn’t quite there yet. “Are you cold? Hungry? Is there anything you need? Anything I can get for you?”

Eyes narrowed with suspicion, she nodded. “My bag of clothing and jewels, if you can find it. They’re mine. I earned them. Although, someone’s probably picked it up by now. Dang it. Oh,” she added, clearly speaking as thoughts came to her, “before I go back, I’ll need a new ID.”

Go back? “I told you. I want you to stay here, at the club. Where we can be…friends. I need help with the rest of my weeds.”

“No, absolutely not,” she replied with a shake of her head. “I’ve realized I don’t like being dependent on you. Because, let’s face it, Thane. At any moment you could change your mind about blaming me, and then where would I be? Staked to the courtyard?”

“I won’t. I will never hurt you.”

“I’ve heard that before.” Fatigue settled over her features. “I’m glad you believe that, I am, but it’s time I was responsible for myself.”

He had to fight a wave of despair. Her precious trust was ruined, and all because of him. “Stay. Please.” Begging again? For friendship? He just… He couldn’t stand the thought of her out there, alone, defenseless. In danger. Or, worse, in lust with another man. “Work here, or not. Either way, you’ll be safe.”

Again she denied him, shaking her head.

Stubborn female. He studied her, trying to figure out his next move. The length of her hair spilled over his pillows, a dark cloud—he liked that. Smoked-glass eyes that had once sparkled up at him were now guarded—he didn’t like that.

“I will get your new ID,” he said. “However, it could take several weeks. Maybe even months.” Because I don’t plan to begin the process anytime soon. Meanwhile, he would do everything within his power to rebuild her faith in him. After a while, she would want to stay. Surely. “You can make more money while you wait.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Okay,” she finally said with a nod. “I’ll work here while I wait. I’ll be able to build another nest egg, at least.”

“Yes. A nest egg. Exactly.” He sifted a lock of her hair between his fingers, marveling over the softness. “I’ll make sure you have the best tables.”

“No. No special treatment. The girls shouldn’t be overlooked just to appease your guilt.” She yanked the strands away from his grip and threw her legs over the other side of the bed, rising across from him, putting as much distance between them as possible.

The robe fell to the floor, pooling at her feet. Thankfully, the material had done its job, leaving her bloodstain free.

“I’m going to my room,” she said, once again unwilling to meet his gaze.

He fisted the sheet to keep from reaching for her. “You may have this one for the duration of your stay.”

She eyed the undecorated walls, the sparseness of the furnishings. Hurt bathed her expression.

Hurt? Over this? An offer he’d never made to another female.

“No, thank you,” she said, lifting her chin. “I like staying with the girls.”

Another rejection. One he should have expected. But the clenching in his chest returned, sharper, stronger than before. “Bellorie should arrive in an hour, just in time for tonight’s shift, as promised.”

“Thank you.” Head high, she strode from the room.

* * *

THANE WAS WATCHING HER.

What was she going to do with that man?

Two weeks had passed since the demon attack. Both weeks, Thane had sent her a basket of chocolates, a vase of roses, and a box of books. Each gift had come with an “I’m sorry” card. Even though he’d already begged for her forgiveness. Which had been nice, she could now admit, and completely out of his ice-king character.

He sat at a table next to a horribly scarred but seriously rocking warrior she’d heard him call “Lucien,” the two locked in a heated conversation about a missing warrior named Torin, a girl named Cameo trapped in some type of rod, time delays, Bjorn and shadows.