Chapter 11 Caesar

"You're not trying to poison me, are you?" I asked as I accepted the glass, mostly joking at this point.

"Not today," he replied with a smirk, picking up the other glass. "Besides, if I wanted to kill you, we both know I wouldn't need poison."

I chuckled. "You seriously think you could beat me in a fi—"

Before I'd even seen him move, a blurred and powerful hand whipped across my cheek, causing me to spill a few drops of my drink onto my pants.

"You asshole," I barked, trading the glass to my other hand to shake off the wet one.

He shrugged, wearing a sly grin. "I was merely proving a point."

"It's not just that," I snapped, gingerly holding up my glass. "This is thirty-five-year-old scotch! You could've at least waited till I wasn't holding it."

"Then stop clucking and take it already," he teased, lifting his own glass to his lips and tossing the contents into his mouth.

I ignored his bird joke and followed suit, hissing and wincing as the burn moved slowly down my throat.

"Why are you drinking that anyway?" I asked, still squinting and swallowing against the sting. "You're a vampire. Can your system even digest alcohol?"

He shrugged, seeming completely unfazed by the burn of the stiff and potent liquid. "As a matter of fact, alcohol bypasses our digestive system entirely, going directly from our stomachs into our bloodstream. But it doesn't affect us as strongly as it does humans. I'm guessing, with your natural ability to heal more quickly, the same is true for you shifters."

I nodded, wondering how much longer we could get away with avoiding the elephant in the room.

He refilled both glasses, then held his aloft above the table. I chuckled dryly and leaned forward to pick up mine.

"What are we cheering to?" I asked in a sardonic voice, holding my glass up next to his.

"To burying the hatchet," he suggested.

In silent agreement, I clinked my glass against his, and we both downed our shots.

The swallow burned less this time, and I could feel the familiar buzz settling in my head and chest, the haze creeping in on the edges of my peripheral vision.

"Well, I guess I'll start," he said, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his knees. "When I first met Shea, I had no idea she had ever met you. She's a witch, so naturally, the thought that she might be in a relationship with any shifter never occurred to me."

"We weren't," I interrupted.

He cocked his head.

"In a relationship, I mean," I clarified. "Not then. I had only met her twice at that point. The first time was when I found Arya; the second was when she snuck into the school, and I was called to ‘handle' her."

Julian laughed. "That doesn't surprise me at all. When Shea wants something, not even advanced shifter technology will stop her."

The memory of that afternoon flashed into my mind, and I couldn't fight the amusement it triggered, or the laugh that burst from my lips. "Apparently, neither will clothes."

"What?" Julian asked, a confused frown on his face.

My smile grew. "She had apparently tried to convince us she belonged there by drinking a potion that turned her into an animal. By the time I got there, she had turned back and was standing in the anteroom completely naked."

I had been struggling to speak while a snicker trembled in my throat, and by the time I finished my story, I was squawking with laughter and slapping my knee, which was only made worse when Julian joined in.

"Are you serious?" he asked through his own laughter.

All I could do was nod as I began to tear up, clutching my aching ribs.

He stifled his laughter and leaned forward again. "What animal did she turn herself into?"

The hilarity of the answer made my throat constrict, my laughter peeling out of me and making it hard to breathe.

"A kitten!" I finally managed to squeeze out, and he roared a laugh so booming that it made the frame on the wall rattle.

We carried on like that for several minutes, surrendering to our mirth until it had run its course. When we had mostly recovered, he poured us another round.

"Well, after seeing her naked, I can absolutely understand how difficult she would be to resist," Julian mused, sipping his scotch now.

"Especially after I'd had a few drinks," I added, tipping my glass toward him before drinking the whole thing. "I was at a local pub, enjoying an afternoon away from responsibility, when who should stroll in but the vexing witch. She went right up to the bar and used magic to trick the bartender into serving her a drink."

Julian hummed a laugh. "Classic Shea."

I pushed my back away from the chair and leaned forward, feeling uncomfortable admitting this out loud. "That was the first time anything happened between us."

His expression sobered, his eyes darkening, but he nodded. And in my altered state, I could sympathize with what he must be feeling hearing me say that. I remembered how greatly it had upset me when Shea told me about her and Julian's… extracurricular activities.

And yet, the memory wasn't enough to keep from asking about it. "When did you and Shea… When did your involvement…" The fog in my head was making it even more difficult to form the words.

"It was a few days after Thanksgiving," he said, all humor gone from his voice, his eyes cast off to the side. "She had been coming to my apartment to practice with the grimoire. She called me to show me a spell she found, and I had been very thirsty at the time, and—"

"Okay," I cut him off. I could already see where this story was going, and I didn't want to hear the gory details of the ending.

Part of me wanted to lash out at him for attacking Shea, but, though it was slightly different, I had done the same thing only a week ago. This whole situation left me feeling possessive, rejected, oddly turned on, and mostly confused.

"So, where do we go from here?" Julian asked after a moment.

I dropped my shoulders and hung my head back. "I have no idea." I returned my head to eye level and locked eyes with him. "Do you even really want her?"

He stiffened, his facial muscles twitching ever so slightly. He looked down at his lap and sighed. "Shea has made me feel things I never thought I could feel again. Things I haven't felt in a hundred and fifty years."

"Alice," I said.

He nodded. "I don't know what to do with these feelings. I only befriended Shea in the hopes of getting Alice back. Wanting her, caring for her, makes me feel like I'm betraying Alice."

My heart tugged over his obvious misery, running my mouth with things I never would've said sober. "Have you ever considered that Alice might want you to move on? She wouldn't want you to mourn her forever, to be bound to her memory alone."

"That's what Shea said," he murmured, looking off to the side. "But I've dedicated my immortal life to this quest of bringing her back. Giving up on that feels like the ultimate disgrace to her."

I leaned forward, reaching across the table to put my hand on his knee. "After a century and a half, I would hope that she's found peace. And if she has, how horrible would it be to rip her away from that and bring her back into this shit hole?"

He hung his head and laughed, a dark, tight sound, and when he lifted his head again, I could see blood tears trailing down his cheeks.

"Don't get me wrong. My problems—or at least one of them—would be solved if you stuck to your vow and denied Shea."

He chuckled again, wiping at his face with his hands, leaving only the faintest trace of red behind. He blinked a few times, my guess was to hold in more tears, then looked at me.

"Let's say I were to let go of that dream. Where would that leave us? Would we share her?" He asked the last question as if the idea was unthinkable.

And before that moment, it had been. But right now—probably because of the scotch freeing my inhibitions—it didn't sound quite so horrible.

Julian was a good man—er, vampire—even if I had only moments ago accused him of betraying me to Hadrian. And with me stuck at the Dome most of the time, it was nice to know she had one other guardian angel at her disposal.

Holy fuck, was I actually considering this?

Could I really devote myself to someone who wasn't willing to devote herself to only me?

And yet, I hadn't done that, had I? I hadn't done everything in my power to make Shea a student at the school. I had hidden any sign of our relationship from everyone at every possible turn. She wasn't wrong about being my "dirty little secret," and that wasn't okay. I needed to fix that.

"Caesar?" Julian waved his hand in front of my face, trying to get my attention.

I shook my head. "Sorry, I was thinking. I guess we both have some stuff to figure out. You need to deal with your grief and make a decision, and I need to do right by her with the Dome."

He nodded, a tumultuous storm of indecision raging in his eyes. Then he picked up the glass bottle and poured another round of shots. "One last shot—before you pass out."

As the motion of scoffing made my head feel light and airy, I silently agreed he was right. But I wanted that last shot, dammit. Because now I had a bigger job than any that had come before.

I needed to convince Celeste, Kai, and the other professors that Shea belonged at the Dome.