Chapter Twenty-Nine

Regret

Vince

Crossbody dozed beside me, his forehead pressed to my hip and his hand on my thigh as his slow, steady breaths tickled my skin.

I was sitting up against the headboard, and my eyes burned from lack of sleep as I stared at nothing. Dawn was approaching, murky light creeping under the curtains and making the room gloomy. With every second that ticked by, morning getting closer and closer, a sense of dread filled my chest.

We’d had sex several more times before he passed out. Like last time, I’d gone and wet the hand towel in the bathroom with warm water to gently clean him up without disturbing him. This time though, I hadn’t let myself fall asleep, even though I was beyond exhausted.

I realised my fingers were sifting absently through his soft, tangled hair as I sat there in the still quiet, trying not to think about the fact that soon, I’d have to wake him up and we would leave.

Why did this keep happening? Why were we like this?

Why was there still this insatiable need inside me?

I’d just spent another entire night fucking him. That should’ve been more than enough. I should have been over it by now. It wasn’t even like I was typically a relationship person. One-night stands were usually enough for me. I had no interest in getting attached to people. I liked my life as it was, without having to worry about someone else in that way.

And it was Crossbody. The arrogant, snooty royal fae from work who acted like he was better than the rest of us. Who wore nice, expensive clothes and drove a nice car and was a fucking prince, for fuck’s sake. He represented everything I despised. Everything that, if I let it, intimidated me and made me feel small and worthless.

I’d never spent a lot of time around someone like him before—rich and upper class and ‘well bred’—but I was starting to realise that when he wasn’t putting up that front, he was just… normal. A normal person with desires and insecurities and goals.

He’d left his entire privileged life behind to pursue a career in professional wrestling. I’d never really let myself consider it too deeply before—I’d never cared enough to—but that was pretty… brave of him. Kind of admirable.

I mean, he was definitely still privileged. He was always going to be privileged just because of his standing. But when he was with me like this, submissive and gentle and desperate for me, I found that I didn’t care.

And he clearly didn’t either. At least physically, he wanted me— a ghoul with a shitty mom and an absent father, who’d grown up in a trailer and had only been able to afford second-hand clothes until I was in my twenties. I wasn’t fancy. I wasn’t refined. Some shitty people would probably have called me trash, at least before I’d worked hard to build a better life for myself and my uncle.

Crossbody never had though, I realised, slowly looking down at his serene, mind-numbingly beautiful face. He’d called me a slacker, he’d called me arrogant, he’d called me uncouth—which I kind of was—but he’d never actually dug deeper to get truly nasty and hit me where it really hurt. He probably didn’t even actually know anything about my life. Certainly not my childhood.

It was just his attitude that got to me, but I was suddenly remembering what Kit had said a while ago, and I thought maybe they were right. I didn’t think Crossbody even realised the way he sounded a lot of the time—how the things he said could be misinterpreted, usually by me.

And I could admit that often, I snarked back at him for no reason. Just because he’d annoyed me. Any time he spoke in the group or asked a simple question, I would always lash out or take an unnecessary jab in response.

Looking back, I realised I’d been the one to start our stupid feud, almost as soon as I joined Goliaths. His poise and clipped accent and whole refined demeanour had rankled me, made me feel insecure, so I’d started making snarky comments and keeping my distance. He hadn’t seemed to know how to respond at first—he’d probably been confused—but eventually, his dislike for me had grown in the face of how I treated him. Which I didn’t blame him for. I couldn’t. I’d been a fucking asshole for no reason. I’d judged him , because I’d automatically assumed he was going to do the same to me.

Guilt roiled in my stomach, making me swallow thickly. Carefully shifting down, I lay on my side facing him and reached over to tuck his hair behind his pointed ear. The room was getting light now, which meant we’d have to leave soon.

I didn’t want to.

“Crossbody,” I whispered, resting my hand beside his on the mattress and inching it closer until our fingertips brushed. His fingers were long and slender and elegant, with prominent knuckles and neatly trimmed nails. My short-bitten nails were dark and discoloured, though that was because I was a ghoul.

He stirred a little, making a soft sound and shifting his head nearer to me on the pillow.

“Crossbody,” I croaked again, and this time, his lashes fluttered as his eyes half opened. Wetting my lips, I forced myself to hoarsely say, “I’m sorry for being such an asshole to you.”

He was still half-asleep, and he wrapped his hand around mine, tugging it higher so he could tuck his face against it.

“You’re not,” he mumbled drowsily, making my throat close up.

“Yes, I am. I have been.” My forefinger lifted to stroke gently over his cheek.

“I have been too.” He was dozing back off, so I decided to let him sleep for a bit longer, because I was feeling unsettled and horribly vulnerable after what I’d just said.

Gently pulling my hand free, I shifted off the bed and scrubbed at my face. My stomach was shaky, almost sick with exhaustion once again. We couldn’t keep doing this. Ignoring each other at work before the tension exploded into a furious night of fucking in secret. It couldn’t be all that healthy, either physically or mentally.

I went into the bathroom to piss and wash my face. When I looked in the mirror, my eyes were even more shadowed than normal, and my hair was a fucking mess. I dragged my fingers through it, wincing every time they caught on snags, until it looked half-decent.

When I walked back into the bedroom, I picked up Crossbody’s discarded shirt. The sweat had dried, leaving it a creased, crumpled mess. I tried to smooth it out as best I could and left it draped over the back of the chair.

I looked over at him as I pulled on my boxer briefs and jeans. He’d rolled onto his stomach and was still sleeping deeply, one knee pulled up on the bed and his face buried in the pillow. That throb started up in the pit of my stomach again, but it wasn’t so urgent this time. Wasn’t just rooted in mindless lust and a clawing need to get inside him, even as my gaze slid up his long legs and over his ass to the graceful dip of his spine. In the low light, I could see the faint wing slits between his shoulder blades, and I found my tongue pushing against my teeth as I wondered if they were sensitive. I wanted to find out.

But I didn’t know if I was going to. We’d agreed on one more time, and we couldn’t keep doing this. We shouldn’t want to keep doing this. So we happened to have mind-blowing sexual chemistry—we’d have that with other people too. Other people who didn’t come with an existing rivalry or a complicated work relationship. Other people who suited us better. Because Crossbody and I were nothing alike.

I checked the time on my phone as I fastened my jeans. Almost 6 a.m.

Before I could decide whether to wake him up or let him sleep for longer, I heard him stir on the bed, his breathing changing as he stretched and rolled onto his back. My throat closed up a little as he rubbed his eyes, looking soft and vulnerable.

“What time is it?” he mumbled, pushing back his messy hair as he sat up.

“Almost six.” I cleared my throat when my voice came out rough. “So we should probably go soon.”

He nodded, shifting to the edge of the bed and standing up. I quickly walked over and handed him his briefs and pants, hovering anxiously as he bent to slip them over his feet.

“How are you feeling?”

He looked up at me with a tiny, tired smile. “Good. Don’t worry.”

“You should take it easy at work again, though.”

“I will.” He looked around for his shirt, spotted it on the chair and made his way over to pick it up.

When I saw how much of a crumpled mess it still was, I lunged for my sweater and hurried toward him.

“Wear this,” I blurted, holding it out, because for some reason, I didn’t want him to have to leave in his ruined shirt. I knew he wouldn’t want to risk being seen in public like that. Shit like that was important to him—looking his best and stuff.

He paused, staring down at the sweater I was offering before slowly reaching out to take it. “Alright. Thank you.”

I took the shirt and slipped it on, trying not to think about how much it smelled like him. He chuckled as his head emerged from the neck of my black sweater, giving me a tired but beautiful grin.

“It’s a bit too big for you.”

I found myself smiling too as I glanced down it, doing up the final buttons. “Yeah.”

My sweater was a little loose on me, so it hugged his arms and torso nicely. He nibbled his lower lip as he looked at me, then gestured at the shirt.

“It’s quite creased. I don’t mind—”

“It’s okay. I don’t care.”

“Alright,” he said again, softly. “Thank you.”

After an awkward hesitation, I turned and walked over to sit on the end of the bed and pull on my socks and shoes. Crossbody did the same, his knee brushing mine as he leaned down to tie the laces on his boots. Neither of us spoke, and by the time I was shoving my stuff back into my pockets and picking up the room key, my stomach was jittery with anxiety.

After we’d both shifted into our human forms, I opened the door and waited for him to step outside. The air was chilly, making my skin prickle under the loose shirt.

I had no idea what to say, so I stayed silent as Crossbody took a few steps toward his car, then stopped and turned around to face me. His tongue darted out to wet his lips.

“Vince.” His voice was still soft and quiet. “What you said at court that day—that it seems like I try to make everyone around me feel worthless in comparison…” He swallowed as I tensed, the motel room key digging into my palm, and my heart thudded hard when he looked at me, brows pinched. “I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel that way. I really wasn’t trying to, but if I still did…”

“It’s okay,” I said hesitantly, a part of me unable to believe that Crossbody had just apologised to me, and that I’d just forgiven him that easily. “I know you just… talk like that. Sometimes I take stuff the wrong way. I guess. I don’t know.”

“It’s not true, anyway.” He sighed and looked down at the car keys in his hands. “I don’t think that about any of you. I grew up feeling like I…”

I tensed even more as he trailed off, then cleared his throat and lifted his chin. Suddenly, I could see the usual Crossbody returning, that shield going up, the soft and gentle and quiet side retreating. I already missed it.

“Anyway, I’m sorry.” He gave me a curt nod. “And… thank you, again, for last night. I’m sure we’ll both…” Hesitating, he waved a hand vaguely and finished in a dull voice, “Move on from whatever this is now.”

“Uh, yeah,” I croaked, looking down at the key in my hand and parting my lips to say that I’d better go check out and I’d see him at work. Instead, I heard myself blurt, “Do you want to get some breakfast?”

He blinked. “Breakfast?”

Heat rose in my cheeks. “There’s a diner down the street. It’ll be open now.”

He stared at me. Then his gaze dipped to my mouth, making me wet my lips in reflex. Finally, he said, “Yes. Alright.”

“Okay.” Had we really both just willingly decided to spend more time together outside of fucking like animals? Had I really just asked him to have breakfast with me? “Uh, let me just—I’ll go check out and then you can follow me.”

“Alright,” he repeated, looking a little stunned.

I turned and walked quickly to the front office, intent on just dropping the key on the counter and leaving before the horny incubus could say anything to me. But when I stepped in there, I saw that he was passed out on the desk with a little puddle of drool forming under his cheek.

When I quietly set the key on the counter, I noticed that he wasn’t wearing any pants, just a pair of skimpy boxer briefs with little lovehearts on them.

No, wait, my mistake. They were ballbags. Of course they were.

Crossbody was still standing in the exact same place when I got back outside. He slowly walked toward his car as I unlocked mine and tugged open the door.

“See you there,” I said, voice a little gruff and awkward.

“Yes,” he said faintly as I glanced over. Our eyes met for a second before I ducked into my car and closed the door.