31. Imogen

31

IMOGEN

" Y ou didn't," Leo chokes on his laughter as he, Josie, and I step out of the elevator.

"We did," Josie says, a bashful smile on her face. It showcases an adorable little dimple on her right cheek. "Everyone at family dinner wondered why the sauce tasted strange. They were practically screaming it in their heads, but no one would say a word out loud. They didn't want to hurt Nan's feelings. Little did they know, it wasn't her fault the vodka sauce was more vodka than sauce."

"Did she ever find out?" I ask.

"Of course," Josie says, nose scrunching up. "Wes's nan finds out everything. We were on dish duty for a month."

I shake my head. "I'm going to scold Nora for keeping that one to herself."

"Good luck with that. She's still pissed we got caught." Josie snorts.

The three of us chuckle. We'd been laughing a lot lately.

Ever since the night Josie crashed on my couch, and even more so after the incident human-side, we've been spending more time together. I hadn't realized it at the time, but I missed her friendship. Josie needs the laughs more than ever, still holding onto a deep-rooted guilt that I want to rip from her soul. But I'm thankful I can still pull some laughter from her, even if it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

We come to a stop where the hallways fork—in one direction lies the Sins meeting room, and the other leads to where the Seconds wait.

"I'll see you after, Mo," Josie says, giving my shoulder a quick squeeze.

"See you," I say before she departs down the hall. I raise my brows at Leo, pointing towards the double doors I need to enter. "Are you sure you don't want to sit in for me?"

He shakes his head. "It isn't the right time."

A knowing smile curls my lips. "Don't tell me you're nervous."

Leo's smile is cautious. "I don't know what you're talking about. I am never nervous."

"Uh-huh."

"I speak the truth."

"Well, I'm nervous," I say, cocking my brow. "Silas doesn't often call mid-quarter meetings. It means something big or bad. Or both."

"And that's exactly why I don't want to sit in today." He pivots on his heel and gives me a wave. "See you after, Mo."

"Traitor," I murmur, but it doesn't have any bite.

"Heard that!" he calls from down the hall.

A little laugh escapes me and eases the tension in my shoulders.

When I enter the meeting room, it's empty. As I round the table, I shake out my arms, hoping that the action will shake off the rest of my anxiety.

It doesn't work.

"That some kind of new dance the younglings are doing nowadays?" Sloth's gruff voice calls from behind me, making me startle.

"You're even earlier than normal," I say, letting a warm smile spread across my face as I turn to the old man.

He grunts, gripping the head of his cane and tapping the thing on the floor as he hobbles past.

"My gut says this meeting will be important. There's something in the air, old magic stirring," he says.

"Is it?" I ask, humoring the old fae.

He sits with a groan.

"I'm getting too old for this," he says, resting his cane against the arm of his chair.

"Then retire," I quip, a smirk pulling at my lips as I take my own seat.

"Can't leave you younglings to yourself. It's chaos as it is," he says. "You'll see me retired when I hit the Fading and no sooner."

"You're fading?" Envy says, strolling into the room. "So soon? A pity."

"Hold your tongue, boy," Sloth replies.

I roll my eyes, letting the two banter back and forth. Envy loves to poke at everyone without a care for his own safety.

He thinks it makes him brave. I think it makes him stupid.

Envy is also clearly hungover; his mostly unbuttoned shirt is wrinkled, with the sleeves pushed to his elbows rather than rolled. His hair, that he keeps pushing back with one hand, falls in limp strands, lacking its usual volume and wave. And when he pulls his cup to his lips, it's water flowing over the rim, not alcohol.

He never has water at these meetings.

"Have a headache, Envy?" I ask.

He shoots me a glare. "And if I do?"

I shrug, my confidence waning.

"Just curious," I say.

My eyes drift across the room, landing on the doors. It's been ten minutes since I was with either Josie, Leo, or Nora. I haven't been without one of them since the accident. And while I'm not alone—Envy and Sloth's presence do little to quell the strange energy that fills me.

My hands are suddenly clammy, and when I rub them on my dress, the fabric itches my skin. I bite my bottom lip, my teeth worrying the skin there until I feel the metallic edge of it ripping open.

The doors open, and I suck in a relieved breath. Though disappointment strikes me.

Greed is on time, for once. He and Gluttony stride in side by side to take their seats. Gluttony is in a beaded white dress that falls to mid-calf; the crystal embroidery sends rainbow specks across the room. Meanwhile, Greed is in a simple black three-piece suit.

Then finally, Nora arrives, and my teeth stop gnawing at my lip.

But instead of walking through the door, she steps from a swirling mass of shadows with Wrath and Silas. Wrath strides through first, heading directly for his seat.

As Silas and Nora step through, he keeps his hand placed firmly on her lower back until the shadows fully dissipate. My eyes narrow at the contact point.

There's something in the way he touches her that sets me on edge. It's possessive. I know because Nora's touched me the same way.

A lazy, smug smile stretches across his face.

Nora, unaware—or simply unfazed—steps out of his hold and walks to her seat with as much purpose as Wrath. She shucks off her jacket, not caring that snow falls off it and makes puddles at her feet. Draping it over the back of her chair, she sits.

Her hand finds my thigh under the table and squeezes.

"I missed you," she whispers.

"You've only been gone for twelve hours."

"More than enough time to miss you," she says. And while her comment makes butterflies flutter in my tummy, my smile must look forced, because her brows furrow. "Is everything okay?"

"Mhm," I hum.

"Clearly, there is something bothering you."

I don't mean to, but my attention strays to Silas, who now sits at the head of the table. He is whispering with Wrath as the rest of the Sins mingle.

When I turn back to Nora, I can tell that she knows.

I might be the empath, but she's skilled in reading a room. She clocks it for what it is: jealousy.

It's not a pretty emotion to have.

"Imogen," Nora scolds, as if she's the one who can read minds, not Josie. Her hand squeezes my thigh again under the table as she leans to my ear to speak, voice barely above a whisper. "Don't be a brat."

A thrill shoots through me, and I itch to play the game that she's set in front of us.

Silas clears his throat, calling the Sins' attention to the head of the table.

"I know it is unusual for me to call a meeting last minute, but I felt it important to tell you all in person," he says, his deep voice booming through the room. "In two weeks, for the first time in fifty years, we will join our sister Court in celebrating the Winter Solstice. Please prepare yourselves accordingly, as you are all required to attend with your Seconds." He points across the table, "Except for you, Sloth. You're to stay here to ensure all barriers and portals between realms stay intact in coordination with Wrath's Second and the Royal guard."

There is silence as he pauses to let the room process his unsugarcoated announcement.

"I'm sure you have questions. Now would be the time to ask them," he finishes.

The room erupts into chaos.

"Are you mad?—"

"Why would we go to see the Seelie after so long?—"

"This is insanity?—"

"You know, I want to hear him out?—"

"Enough!" Silas's voice booms. A burst of shadows spread from behind his back, the room vibrating with his frustration. At the resulting quiet, his magic retracts. "One at a time. You're all acting like children."

Nora snorts at my side, awfully quiet about the whole ordeal.

Is this what they've been working on? Some kind of plans for the Solstice trip?

"Did you know?" I ask, leaning into Nora's side.

"He only told me an hour ago," she responds.

"Do you have a question, Lust?" Silas says.

I plaster a smile on my face, swallowing all the questions that I do have, but wouldn't be asking him.

"No."

"Good. Now, who is next?"

Envy raises his hand, and you can practically hear the collective, yet silent, groan from the other Sins.

"Yes, Envy?" Silas says.

"What's the dress code?"

Silas smiles like a demon about to collect a soul. "My staff will send specific requirements to each House. But, please, dress to kill ."

Nora's quiet as she enters her bedroom ahead of me, same as she was during the car ride here and in the slow rise of the elevator. It isn't an unpleasant kind of silence, but there is tension in her shoulders and laced through her sighs.

The rest of the Sins meeting went about as civil as it could have. Each Sin got their turn to question Silas's motives for resuming the tradition of spending the Solstice with the Seelie Court. To everyone's disappointment, Silas didn't give a very specific answer—simply, that it was time.

"Time for what?" Sloth had asked.

"You'll see," Silas had replied.

Ominous and vague, forcing us to place our faith in him and his plans. Plans, it seemed, both Nora and Wrath were fully privy to. Part of me wants to know, while the other part of me itches to get as far away from the potential danger as I can.

I close the door, the small click of the lock engaging echoes through the room. When I turn, I lean back against the solid wood, letting my eyes trace over Nora's familiar frame.

Broad shoulders, tapered waist, and long legs—all sharp angles compared to my round edges. Where she is carved, I am shaped; I like to think we complement each other with our differences.

She faces away from me, head tilted to the side as she stretches her neck. Her arms raise above her head, her back cracking with the movement. And when she turns back to me, her eyes darken, drinking me in.

Gooseflesh spreads across my arms.

Nora stalks forward until I'm caged in against the door with one of her hands anchored next to my head. I swallow, my mouth suddenly going dry.

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, Imogen," she says, running a nail down my neck to my collarbone. She's slow, taking her time as she caresses my skin and hooks her finger under the strap of my dress. "That's Envy's schtick. Are you looking for a change in rank?"

She pushes the strap off my shoulder, her touch featherlight. Tracing back along my collarbone and up the center of my neck, she grips my chin between her thumb and forefinger, tilting my head up.

Our height difference has never felt so drastic.

"Use your words," she says, voice thick as honey.

"No," I say.

"No, what?"

"I'm not looking for a change in rank."

Nora hums. Her hand moves from pinching my chin to cupping my jaw, her long fingers tickling the back of my neck. Her thumb skates over my cheek, and with each stroke, she kindles a fire within me. There are inches between our bodies, but her heat, her energy, soaks into my skin.

"Then what's bothering you, love?"

Another swipe of her thumb over my cheek—another utterance of that damned moniker she's taken a liking to since my accident—and my lashes flutter.

"I don't like the way Silas is with you," I say. "It's too familiar."

The breath of her soft laughter brushes over my skin. Her fingers tighten against the nape of my neck, gripping the base of my hair and forcing me to meet her eyes.

They're burning.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions, and I need you to answer them honestly," Nora says.

I nod, brows knitting together on my forehead.

"Where do I spend my nights?" she asks.

"I don't understa?—"

"Do I spend my nights in his bed?" Her tone is both gentle and demanding as she rephrases her question.

"No."

"Correct," she says, leaning down to peck my forehead. "And whose bed do I share when I'm not half-dead, napping at my desk?"

Her lips trail down my cheek, my jaw.

"Mine," I whisper. "Though it's technically been your bed recently…"

Nora nips at the tender skin where my jaw meets my neck, making me gasp.

"Don't be coy," she says. "Who do I dream about when they're not sleeping at my side?"

"Me?" My breath has become airy and light.

"That shouldn't sound so much like a question."

Nora kisses down my throat, sucking at the hollow where my neck meets my collarbone. There's a silent command to stay still radiating off her, to let her guide where this night will go.

I am all but putty in her hands, ready to submit to her whims, and yet, part of me is pushed to voice the rest of my worry.

"It's just that he is the king ," I say. "He is manipulative at best and coercive at worst. And I don't trust him around you."

Nora's free hand slams into the door to my left, caging me in on both sides now. Our noses touch as she growls her frustration, the heat in her eyes a blazing wildfire.

"Don't be so insecure," she says. "While we were gone, we came to an understanding—we have a mutual goal. But believe me when I say he became a certified pain in my ass in the process."

She heaves a great breath, her eyes softening to the color of damp grass after rain.

"Do you understand?" she says.

Do you understand that there is only you? her eyes ask.

My head nods, fast and short little bobs as my throat swells with emotion.

"Yes," I rasp.

"Good," she whispers, forehead pressing into mine before her lips dip down to meet me.

The kiss is brief but demanding, and as she pulls back, she sucks my bottom lip between her teeth. The bite of pain mixes with the pleasure in my gut—a volatile combination. I'm a kettle ready to boil over, and she's barely touched me.

"Does it make you feel powerful, knowing I choose you?" she whispers, her lips grazing over mine as she speaks.

"Yes."

Her eyes are half-lidded and glazed over with restrained lust, and I know mine are a matching pair.

Soft lips resume their trail over my jaw, my neck, and lower, until they brush against the edge of my bodice. My hands finally find their courage and weave into Nora's hair. As she moves down my body, her kisses burn, despite the layer of fabric between us.

Nora kneels, her head pausing at my waist. Her head tilts up with a devious smirk. Her hands glide up my legs, gently lifting my skirt with them.

"Does it make you wet?" she asks, teasing fingers exploring my thighs. "Does it feel good knowing you've got me wrapped around your finger?"

"Yes," I repeat. The word is a whispered prayer as she glides over the lace trim at the apex of my thighs. Her thumb presses against my core, confirming how wet her words have made me.

"Good." Nora hums, continuing to rub with light enough pressure to work me into a frenzy.

It's a slow build, but she has me locked in a searing stare that increases my pleasure tenfold. But just as I crest the wave into ecstasy, she pulls away.

"I'm getting tired of you being a tease all the time," I hiss.

"Jealous brats don't get to come right away," she says with a smirk, rising, hands trailing back up my body.

Nora cuts off any protests I attempt by crashing her lips to mine, a fiery explosion of our need. Despite our weekend together as I recovered, she's been too gentle with me, and I haven't been fully satisfied.

Her body molds to mine, and our hands interlock in each other's hair. The sting of her grip shoots shivers down to my core. One of Nora's legs fits between mine, my dress riding up as I grind against the base of her thigh and top of her knee.

Groaning into her fevered lips, I silently beg for release.

She hears me, both hands gripping my hips and grinding me down harder on her leg. My eyes are screwed shut and my head hangs back, hitting the door as I whisper a curse.

It's heaven and hell, the way our bodies move together. Nora blesses me with torturous friction, slowly stoking that fire in my core. And when her lips find their way back to that spot on my neck, her teeth grazing and nipping, her tongue sliding over the sting, I come undone.

My hips stall and stutter, and my thighs strangle Nora's leg as I pulse against her, riding the waves of pleasure.

Nora smiles against my neck as we both come down from the high; our harried breaths turn soft and light. She rests her forehead against mine with a satisfied hum.

"You come so beautifully for me."

My core instinctively clenches against Nora's leg, and her smile brightens. I'm caught in its light, stunned.

Whether it be the orgasm fog or the way she beams so radiantly that gives me the confidence to speak—I don't know. Either way, I find myself uttering a string of words that could fuse us together or break us apart.

"I think I'm falling in love with you. Have been, for a long time," I say, breathless.

"Oh?" she says, one brow cocked.

"Yeah," I say. And when she doesn't say anything, the anxiety of the situation kicks in, making me ramble. "But it's okay if you don't?—"

"I've never felt like this before, Mo. For anyone." Nora sighs. "It doesn't make sense to me. My need for you is irrational. But what else could it be, blooming between us?" Her brows furrow, as if she's ran the question through her head a thousand times already, always coming away without an answer. "I told you, I'm not good at this. But I want to make it work. I want to make it work for you ."

"Yeah?" I bite my lip, trying, and failing, to suppress the beam of a smile that lights up my face.

"I thought I made it clear when I let you cuddle me for days," she says, plucking my lip from between my teeth with her thumb.

I lightly smack her shoulder. "It wasn't days ."

"Hours then," she relents. A soft, teasing smile spreads across her cheeks. "Still the same sentiment."

I don't have any more words after that; the emotions in my throat have blocked them all.

"Kiss me again, please," I manage to squeeze out, leaning into her lips.

Nora laughs, deep and throaty, and it only makes me smile harder as she obliges.

"Only because you asked nicely."