Chapter 22

My brothers didn't come to the kitchen for dinner. Most of the family was gone, taking care of the rescued prisoners, so I helped myself to a roast Nonna had prepared ahead of time. With my stomach stretched full for the first time in months, I scanned the backyard for the guesthouse where Nico had boarded my brothers.

A two-story brick structure matching the architecture of the main building stood at the end of the garden, which wasn't much of a garden besides the elegant arrangement of dead flowers and brittle branches around a frozen fountain. Esme's garage was off to the side, the stables on the other, but the guesthouse was straight back, in the estate's shadow.

I figured if they hadn't bothered to come inside, they may have felt unwelcome. I'd been so wrapped up seeing the Attanos again, and stuck at Nonna's side, I hadn't had time to visit them properly—and without the shadow of my suspicious husband lurking behind.

Grimm read my thoughts, and he brought me a coat to withstand the wind beginning to pick up strength. I worried for Nico being out in this weather, suspended over the river no less, then remembered who he was and what he controlled. He could shove the caller off the viaduct if they gave him any grief.

The yard was silent, the crunch of my steps over the slush of snow the only sound competing with the whistle of the hard wind. Light flickered behind the ice-covered windows on the first floor of the guesthouse, but as I approached, I noticed fresh prints mixing mud into the slush, leading around the front face of the building.

The footprints led me to a partially opened gate leading to a rear courtyard.

"Aramis?" I called out. His back was to me as he stared at something beneath a towering elm tree, hands in his coat pocket—and alone. Hearing his name, his shoulders jerked, and he looked back at me. "What are you doing out here?"

My answer came when I saw the tombstones. Pressed behind the rear courtyard of the guesthouse was the Attano family graveyard. Paulo Attano, Nonna's late husband. Nico's parents, his little sister, Anna, who, by the dates, had been killed at the small age of six. The last grave was a fresh one, the stone not yet marred by the elements.

My name was chiseled into marble.

Camilla Mercy Marchese-Attano

Beloved friend, sister, daughter, and wife.

The site of my grave marker hit me differently than I expected. A reminder of how near death lingered, how easy it was to be snatched in its grip, and how precious was the pulse in my veins. I wanted to be worthy of every title written beneath my name, so that the ones who called me such things would say them with pride. So such titles would mean something.

"The metal bender said she would make a plaque to replace the name," Aramis said in a voice dry of emotion. Though the tension in his neck told me he was anything but apathetic.

"Her name is Esme, and if she told you she'd do it, she will." I pressed into the side of his arm, shielding my face from the sting of the breeze. "I miss her too."

He was quiet for a while, letting that thought simmer between us. "We should have left this fucking city a long time ago."

"Maybe." Perhaps we'd still have Giles and Jasper and Sera. Then I'd never know what I'd have missed without Nicolai. There was no choice that didn't hold a great loss. "But where would it have led us? We know now that there is no running from this. Vesper and Callow only prove that the Continent is just as dangerous as this city."

"That's where Father told us to go," he clipped. "I will do as he asked, even if it's the last thing I do."

"To what end? Father isn't here now. He hasn't seen what's happened—"

"He foresaw this, Camilla!" He jerked from my touch, putting distance between us. "Why do you think he wanted us to leave? Why do you think he built the steam ship to get us across the sea? It is not safe for you here, nor anyone else who is trying to protect what you hold." He gestured to Sera's grave.

My eyes stung, holding back tears the icy breeze licked away before they could fall. "Don't you know how much I feel the blame for their deaths? Saints, I'd give anything not to be what I am."

He sighed, the glare in his eyes softened as he stood beside me again. "I know. Hells, if there was a way to trade places with you, Camilla, I would. If there was a way to take this from you so you could have a regular life, I'd do it."

His admission stung a bit, even as he placed a comforting arm over my shoulders. "Have you been taking the glint?" I nodded. "Let me know when you need more. Marcus has been sliding me some on the side from the Districts. I've got plenty."

"What if I don't want to suppress my remnant all the time? Nico said—"

"Nico has had his entire life to practice using his remnant. You have no idea what you're capable of. Do you want to hurt someone?"

"Of course not, but—"

"Father fed that stuff to you for years before you got the familiar, you know. You missed a dose that day when you obliterated that creep on the train."

That... that was the first time I'd heard about getting glint without my knowing. "He drugged me?"

"He didn't want Chaos unleashed when you were in primary school. You could've taken out a classroom." When my nose scrunched, he dismissed the past with a wave of his hand. "Take the glint, Camilla. It's harmless. I'm just looking out for you, as Gio did."

Was that what he truly was doing? I couldn't quite see through my brother and all his layers. "Fine, but I don't want to do it forever. It doesn't feel... natural."

"Of course. Just for now. Until all this shit settles down." A shiver rolled through his shoulders. "Why don't we go inside? Jer was pouring drinks before I came out here. Care to have a round with your brothers like old times?"

Anything warm sounded pleasant and saints knew I could use a drink after everything. As we started towards the path leading back to the guesthouse vicinity, I asked, "Does Nico know you're in touch with Marcus?"

He scoffed. "Does Nico know what I ate for breakfast? What time I take my daily shit? Nico doesn't need to know everything, Camilla."

"He's just trying to keep us all safe, Aramis."

The arm over my shoulder tightened. "You regard him far better than he deserves."

My cheeks burned. That tone of his insinuating my question had rubbed a sore spot. "Funny, he once said the same thing about my regard for you."

He held the door open for me as we stepped inside. Jeremiah lingered in the kitchenette on the far side of the room, holding an empty glass over the sink as he stared out the small window overlooking the driveway. A small sitting area greeted the front door, swathed in the glow and comforting warmth of the hearth.

"We are your family," Aramis said, to continue the argument. "He has no right to question our intentions. We've cared for you a hells lot longer than he's even known you."

"Then I don't understand the constant animosity between you both." I shed my coat and threw it over a chair that had been a designated catch-all. Their bags from the trip were left strewn half-opened on the floor beside it. "You are my brother, and he is my husband. I love you both dearly. Why can't you just try to get along?"

"I have plenty of reasons not to like him, Camilla. Trust me when I say I've been on my best behavior for your sake only."

"I suppose I should be grateful then." I rolled my eyes and strode to the nearest couch, though something caught my eye in the depths of his belongings.

A red glow.

"Aramis..." I shuffled the stuff inside the carry-on bag to confirm my suspicions. "You still have the Niner blade?"

He had a drink in his hand and sipped it leisurely. "I've just been holding on to it. Where was I supposed to dispose of such a weapon? In the wastebin?"

"In the bloody Ada!" I snapped. "Nico's family was killed by Niner blades. If he sees this in your possession—"

"I tried to tell him," Jer said. "Bastard doesn't listen to anyone. Just like Father and twice as stubborn."

"Fuck off," Aramis muttered. His glare was severe as it crossed me. "I'll get rid of it, if it means that much to you."

His agreement was only a slight comfort. It should never have been on the property to begin with. "It does. Please see that you do."

An hour later,a carriage rolled down the driveway, disturbing the gravel. I gently placed the crystal glass I held in the kitchenette sink. My brothers smoked and played cards to fill the time here, while I had been lost in my thoughts—my worry for my husband.

Peeking out the window facing the stable, I watched as he and the rest of his cousins unloaded from the carriage. My heart finally relaxed, seeing him on his own two feet, alive and hopefully without a bullet in him for once.

"Where's he been all night?" Aramis asked, noting the subject of my attention.

I grabbed the coat I had discarded on the leather chair. "Out. He received a strange note this evening, asking to meet someone on the viaduct. It sounded urgent."

"Who was the caller?"

"Don't know. I'm going to go see what it was all about. I'll talk to you in the morning."

Aramis grunted, exchanging a look with Jeremiah, who shrugged in response. "See you, then."

The winter night slammed into me as soon as I opened the door, the weather worsening two-fold during my visit. Pulling my coat tighter, I intersected Nico on his way down the driveway from the stables. Flurries of snow fell in thick sheets in the light stretching across the driveway from the house, collecting on his cap, the shoulders of his coat. He didn't even see me standing there at first, too focused on his thoughts.

"Milla?" he said, finally noticing me. "What are you doing out here?"

"You took too long. What else could I do but pace the snow?"

He pulled me close to his chest, placing a cold kiss on the top of my forehead. "Pace our room. It's much warmer in there."

"Our room?" I asked him.

His mouth hung open for a moment, as if he'd forgotten we hadn't lived across the hall from each other our entire marriage. "I might have made the decision to move you into my chambers properly."

"You might regret that, Attano," I said with a grin, recalling how tidy his room had been the day I intruded. "I don't clean."

"I don't care." His words whispered into my cheek as his lips grazed my skin. "I'll marry your mess. I'll take care of you, princess."

The heat of his tongue was searing as it contrasted the weather embracing my form against him, and I sunk into it, rolling my head back to give him better access to my throat. Letting him nip at the hinge of my jaw. Letting him tease all the ways he could take care of me.

"Get a room," Gideon teased as he passed. The other cousins murmured their agreement. Nico's smile stretched over the bend of my throat, and his hands slid lower, tracing the outline of my silhouette beneath my coat.

"Should we spare them?" he asked.

"Only if you tell me all about your evening." I dusted the ice off his shoulder. "Tell me, who wanted to get you alone so badly?"

His face returned to mine, brow to my brow. "Vanya Hartsong."

That name... It was familiar. And then it hit me all at once, knocking out all the heat in my body until I just felt cold again. That woman from Newport, the one I had eavesdropped on when I was curious about Nico's double life. "That Vanya."

"Yes, that Vanya." He grinned, apparently amused with the reaction her name triggered.

"Should I have been more worried?" I asked, slightly teasing. She was very beautiful from what I'd gathered during my first impression. Beautiful—and fond of my husband.

"Never. You don't have to compete for something that is already yours." He pushed me towards the side entrance. "Come inside and I'll explain everything."

I was stunnedinto a long silence after Nico explained Vanya and her father's role in taking down Gavriel. I'd almost forgotten not everyone in the Districts supported the Nine Crowns, though that had possibly changed in recent weeks thanks to the poisoning of Firenze propaganda—if Vanya had told him the truth.

"Do you believe her when she said she didn't hear anything about Regulus?" I asked.

Nico stared into the fire blazing in his bedroom hearth. "I've worked with Vanya for years. She had no idea about a captured descendant. Marcus also backs her claim. Says the Districts have been quiet at home."

"What the hells are they doing to him?" I chewed on my bottom lip as my imagination ran wild. "It tears me apart sitting here and doing nothing."

He took a long sip of his whiskey. "Regulus didn't want us to come for him. He made that explicitly clear."

"When have you ever listened to anyone, Nicolai?"

"When they mean it." He turned to look at me sitting next to him. "I hate the idea of leaving him behind as much as you do. It eats at me constantly, but he didn't want me to risk anyone coming after him. Hells, they're probably waiting for us to try."

"You risked it all for me," I pointed out.

"You," he said the word with a different weight in his voice. "You are different. You are my wife, Milla. There is nothing that would keep me from you, nothing I wouldn't sacrifice."

My hands stroked his chest, slipping beneath his shirt that he had halfway unbuttoned to relax for the evening. "Sometimes I wish I could be your old Milla. The one without a remnant threatening the lives of everyone we care about."

His false hand covered my own, disrupting my exploration. "I wouldn't change a thing about you."

"How can you say that?" I asked. "After all the hell it has caused us both?"

He shrugged, his stare falling to my neck. "Your remnant is what makes you who you are. There's nothing good or bad about it. The only reason you resent your power is because how others have reacted to it, but that is not your fault, and it is not within your power to control how others see you—only how you see yourself."

I remained quiet, unable to think of a way to refute him.

"Remember what I told you that day when we were stuck on the train? It all still holds true. There is nothing bad about you, Camilla. That is the most certain truth I know in this life."

It was like he saw the very words I needed to hear and plucked them out of my head to feed my heart. He always knew, like the walls I had built around my insecurities were transparent to his attention. For the first time, I didn't mind being completely seen, not when my truths weren't used against me.

My hand slid lower down his chest, snapping buttons of his shirt one by one until it was completely undone. The cords of muscle lining the walls of his chest, the hard lines over his stomach, rose and fell in gradually building breaths—matching the rate of my own.

I shifted on the couch until I straddled his waist, sitting over him with my center pressed against his bare stomach. He moved quickly and found a new place for his drink, filling his hands with my thighs instead.

"Milla . . ." His tone was cautionary.

"Hmmm?" I hummed the question while my lips were busy kissing the side of his throat.

His legs widened, sinking me naturally over the hard ridge of his erection. "Just so we're clear, I didn't say any of that to get you in this position. Though, I am very pleased how it's turning out for me."

"Things always work out for you, don't they?"

"And not a cousin in sight to ruin it." He pressed me firmly against his hips, delivering a satisfying counterpressure to the ache between my legs. My fingers trailed from his hair to his broad shoulders. They skated over the scars of his left arm, slid down the smooth skin of his opposite, to remove his shirt completely.

His stare was intense as I drank in the sight of him beneath me, skimmed my fingertips over the smooth muscles of his chest as if to memorize for a sketch later. I got lost in the details of him.

"What's on your mind, Milla?" he said after a time, filling the heavy quiet.

So much. Too much. All my thoughts crowded near the door of my heart, waiting to be let out. More than anything, how much I wanted to lose myself in him. Forget the problems and pains of yesterday and drown the inner voice of my self-loathing with the sounds of his satisfaction.

To remember what it was like to be adored instead of feared. The healing his touch provided, one wanting stroke and longing look at a time.

"There were nights in Hightower where the dark was so complete, it drowned me. There were nights I clung to the clearest memories in my heart to remind myself of what was real and was a dream. Do you know what I thought about when I was in that cell, Nicolai?"

He grunted a sound of frustration. "What did you think about?"

"The night you became mine. I remember everything so clearly. The way you felt in my hands, your scent, the fullness of you inside me. But there was one thing I'd been deprived of before they took me from you." My hand slipped low, stroking him through his pants. "I never got to taste you."

The shadows lining his chest danced wide and short as his breath regulated. "Only if you're ready."

I lifted slightly on my knees, enough to slip my hand beneath my leggings and between my legs and gathered the evidence of my arousal. When I displayed it to him, he drew them into his mouth and licked my taste from my fingers.

"Hells, woman," he moaned.

I lowered myself between his legs, kneeling before him.

He grasped my chin briefly and swiped a thumb over my lip. "You're sure?"

"Completely sure." I unfastened his belt and his pants with trembling fingers, but the shakes weren't from fear. Not even from the worry of being inadequate at this—as inexperienced as I was. I knew I was safe with Nico. No, my fingers just couldn't work fast enough.

He lifted his hips so I could inch his pants lower, until his cock was on full display in front of my face, full and stiff and overwhelming. I didn't know how I'd fit him all in my mouth, only that I was ready to try, and other parts of me were vastly jealous of the opportunity. The sight of him so full of desire for me replaced the wetness I'd just swiped away. My back arched, and I rubbed my thighs together to find a measure of friction.

"Show me how you like it," I whispered and took his shaft in my hand. I pumped it once, lightly, skimming the soft skin with a feathery touch. My thumb rolled over his head, catching a bead of his arousal already spilling for me.

"Harder," he groaned and wrapped his hand over mine. His grip tightened, showing me the right amount of pressure, the right speed, the sensitive spot on the tip of his cock that made his body jerk and his breath shudder. "Fuck, Milla, right there. That's perfect."

He glistened with desire after several long strokes from my hand. I added another, creating a continuous caress from base to tip. Nico bucked into my hold, but I inched higher between his legs, so that my arms pinned his hips to the cushions, forbidding his help.

"Tell me what you want, husband."

"I want to be inside you."

Heat pooled in my belly, roared with a mutual desire to make that happen. His bed looked larger and more inviting than ever, but obstacles stood in the way. "Unfortunately, I haven't taken a single contraceptive since the first time we fucked, so you'll have to settle for my mouth."

A brief smirk twitched across his lips. "Your mouth will do, princess."

Smiling, I lowered my face to the crown of his shaft, rolling my tongue over the tip. The taste of him was like nothing I'd ever known before. Better than I could have imagined, brining my tongue with a tease of his release. His false hand slipped into my hair, and I knew then I had him exactly where I wanted him. A tangled mess of need and adoration. The strongest man I'd ever known, undone beneath me.

I loved it. Loved it so much, I craved more.

I was power hungry. Slipping my lips around his cock, my tongue darted down the underside of his shaft in the same technique as my hands. Nico's head fell back against the sloped edge of the couch, and his fingers pulled at my roots. A tension locked his body, like he held back the urge to thrash into my mouth.

Shifting some of my weight off his hips, I took him as deep as my mouth allowed, wincing at the fullness of him pressing into my throat. The gentlest push of his hand sent me deeper, pushing beyond a barrier I didn't know existed. He cursed every saint in the void, and I moaned to prevent the gag forming, communicating my encouragement.

He tested another thrust. Then another. Each time further than the last until his hips were off the seat, stretching my mouth until I was completely full of him. Nico watched as his cock disappeared between my lips. Smoky eyes swirled into black. His perfect lips parted to reveal gritted teeth. It was the last thing I saw until tears blurred my focus on him.

"Milla, you need to get off... I'm going to—"

A knock banged on the bedroom door.

"Who the hells is it?" he shouted at the visitor while I continued to work him like no one else existed.

"It's Luther. I wanted to know if you were coming—"

"For fuck's sake, Luther. Go away. Right now."

"Giver and Greed . . ."

"What's wrong?" Another voice that sounded like his uncle's joined Luther outside. Nico's cock slipped out of my mouth, my eyes wide.

"It got worse. It got so much fucking worse." Luther's voice trailed off, hopefully bringing his family with him.

Nico's breath was heavy and frustrated. I had to bite my lip from laughing. My hand stroked his cock until his attention was devoted to me once more. "You were saying?"

"I'm going . . . Seven hells."

Grey eyes slammed shut, and he fought a moan as he released into my hand. Warm ropes of his release spilled into my fingers, coating my palms. There was so much of it, too much for my hands to contain. It spilled over his bare stomach that tightened with the force of his climax.

My hands continued to pump as he jerked in my grip, as his strained voice murmured my name. I only released him when he finished and caught his breath. The heat in his gaze smoldered the flames already catching fire in my center. Curious, I lifted two fingers to my lips and tasted the mess he left all over my hands, drawing another vulgar curse from him.

"Saints, Milla. Keep doing that and I'll have another problem for you to fix." He snatched his discarded shirt and wiped the excess off my chin before cleaning the rest. His hand remained fixed around my jaw, staring at me for a moment.

I caught my breath through swollen lips. "What?"

"You are so beautiful." Reaching behind me, he grabbed his glass and shot back the rest of his whiskey before tossing it back on the table. He jutted his chin toward the other side of the room. "Now get in bed, princess. It's my turn."

Another knock—this one much louder—sounded at the door. A flicker of irritation crossed his face.

"What?"

Gideon's voice spoke through the threshold this time. "Sorry to... urm. It's just my father is demanding a brief of what happened on the bridge. We tried to fill him in, but he wants it from you. Thought you'd rather me bother you instead of him."

"Meddlesome fucking family," Nico whispered.

I rose to my feet to stand between his knees. "Go talk to your uncle. I'm not going anywhere. In fact, I think I'll take a shower while I wait. I haven't had a good bath in so long."

"Fine." He met me toe to toe. I had to cant my head to look up at him as he pressed his still wet cock against the soft material of my shirt. "But don't you dare take care of yourself in there, princess. That's for me."

"Nico?" Gideon called out from the hall.

"I'm coming—I mean... Fuck. I'll be there in a moment!"

"Is Camilla coming too?"

I couldn't contain the bubble of laughter that burst from my lips. "Unfortunately, I am not."

"Giver and Greed," Nico seethed, and his face reddened halfway to the door while he fixed his pants. But he looked back at me before he left, cracking a knowing smile.