The Wicked Within

ELEVEN

HE WATCHED HER WALK AWAY, her long stride eating up ground, widening the space between them. She hadn’t gotten far, but it seemed like a canyon had opened up between them. His fists clenched at his sides, so tight his short fingernails cut into his palms. Every part of him screamed to go after her. But his body wouldn’t move.

How could he make amends, open up, and explain?

Earlier in the day, he’d gone through his mother’s things. And all he’d wanted to do afterward was drown out the memories, the hurt. . . . So he’d gone to his grandmother’s to feed. For the first time since Athena’s temple, he’d fed on a person and not a bag of blood. Had he been attracted to his donor? No. Had he wanted more from her than her blood? No. Well, maybe not before or after. But during, who could say? He wasn’t sure. He’d been lost in a world of euphoria.

Afterward, it had felt so damn wrong. Anger and confusion sent him home to pound out his frustrations on the drums. He was losing his mind, losing his perspective, his understanding of right and wrong. . . .

Ari had gone pale at Zaria’s name. Asshole that he was, he didn’t elaborate on Zaria’s appearance at the council meeting or how he felt about seeing her again. Maybe he wanted Ari to see that he was different now. He wasn’t the kind of guy she should be interested in at all. She was right before. She deserved better. Someone who embraced others, who needed others. It wasn’t right to hold her, kiss her, or care about her—not when he was like this.

How could she accept what he was, what he had to do to appear normal, and not like some goddamn animal? And yet a small voice told him he hadn’t given her a choice. He was making it for her.

With a curse, he grabbed the iron bars behind him, wanting to rip them apart. When they groaned, he reared back. The iron bars were bent. He was so much stronger than he used to be. It was easy to forget that.

Shoving away from the bars, he decided to head over to Café Du Monde. Maybe a coffee would settle him.

The apartment building’s main door opened.

Zoe stood there, holding on to the door, as though afraid to step outside. She glanced behind her nervously, and Sebastian knew she’d snuck down the stairs.

He waited.

“There’s a message for you, too.”

Goose bumps pricked his skin.

He crossed the street, every nerve leaping to life. She leaned in close, then glanced left and right before whispering, “Wake me up. Wake me up, and I’ll set you free.”

Zoe’s words made the hairs on the back of his neck electric. A shudder went through him as she gave him one last look before darting back upstairs.