Chapter 41

I t was early afternoon the next day by the time Sophie, Willa, and I rolled off the couch to get ready for our days. Spending the night with them had done me some good, and my chest felt lighter—it was a little easier to breathe. Sophie had practice for a show; she left the apartment shortly after waking up without a hair out of place.

Meanwhile, Willa and I sat on the couch and stared at each other with wild hair and sleep crusted in our eyes.

"What's it like living with a real-life Barbie doll?" I asked.

Willa snickered. "Don't let her pretty blonde hair fool you, Sophie's more of a mess than any of us." We laughed. She checked her phone. "So, you're welcome to hang out here for the day. Wren will be here in about an hour, and I have some work to do."

"What kind of work?" I yawned.

"Candles to make. Labels to design." Willa shrugged. "I should go after Sophie and visit Dahlia too."

I nodded. "I'm going to text Simon to come pick me up, if that's okay?"

"Sure, but PDA will be mocked," Willa said.

"Says you," I laughed. "Wren's tongue will be down your throat the second he gets here."

Willa shrugged. "Damn straight, it will be. Have you seen that man?"

Chuckling, I pulled out my phone to text Simon. If you're not busy, would you mind coming to get me? Willa has to work, and I'm not sure I should be on the metro by myself yet.

His response came instantly. On my way.

I texted him the address, then got off the couch to get myself ready. I used Sophie's shower, avoiding her weird orange-scented shampoo, and changed into the second set of clothes I'd brought with me.

There was a knock at the door right when I finished braiding my wet hair.

"Indy!" Willa called. "Get the door, I can't stop pouring the wax."

I jogged out of Sophie's room, shocked by the strong scent of hot wax—even with the balcony doors open. Padding over to the door, I opened it to see Simon.

The sight of him took my breath away.

He wore a white t-shirt and blue jeans today, though he hadn't styled his hair; it fell haphazardly to the side, and a couple strands fell onto his forehead. He looked fresher and more well rested than he had in days, which made a pang of guilt ripple through me. It didn't stop a blush from rising on my cheeks, though.

I smiled. "Hey."

Simon seemed surprised at my improved mood. "Hello, Lucinda."

"Sweet lord," Willa gasped from behind me. "I mean, hi, I'm Willa!" She raised one hand in greeting.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, opting to shake my head in embarrassment. "Sorry about her. She's never met another person before."

Simon chuckled. "Pleasure to meet you," he said to Willa, then looked at me. "Are you ready to go?"

I nodded, picking my bag up off the floor. "Thanks for last night, Willa."

She smiled at me. "Anytime. Text us if you need anything."

I agreed, following Simon out of the building.

"You seem better," he said when we were outside.

"I'm starving," I replied briskly, then sighed and offered him a smile. "But, yes, I feel a little more like myself."

Simon took my backpack and held out his arm. I slipped my hand over his bicep and fell into step beside him. "I have blood at my apartment, or if you'd prefer something warmer?" Simon tilted his head toward me.

I thought about it and glanced around at our surroundings. While I'd enjoyed the time at Sophie's apartment, I felt overly tired, and the sunlight prickled over my skin uncomfortably. Even so, the thought of human blood sent chills down my spine and made my fangs extend. I dragged my tongue over them, suppressing a whimper at the burning pain of my tongue cutting open, then immediately healing.

"The apartment is fine," I said.

Simon didn't argue. He simply led the way.

"So, we should talk about me being here," I said as Simon handed me a wine glass full of iced blood. He'd taken to teasing me relentlessly when I asked for ice, though he did it every time.

"What do you mean?" He sat in the recliner, kicking his feet up and leaning back leisurely.

I shrugged. "I mean… I'm sure you've put a lot on hold to, you know, show me around Paris, kill me, then babysit me."

Simon sipped his drink. His eyes darkened as he watched me. "You are not a burden, Lucinda."

I rolled my eyes and reached for the fleece blanket strewn across the couch. I pulled it over me and up to my chest, settling comfortably into the crook of the sofa. "That's not what I was saying," I countered.

"That was precisely what you were saying," Simon growled. I stiffened at his hostility. "We can talk all you want about your presence in my life, but I will not begin this conversation with you under the impression that I do not want you here."

I watched him for a moment and attempted to discern how much of the swelling in my heart was genuine and how much was my new, heightened vampire emotions. My emotions felt too large to handle; I wasn't sure I should be having any serious conversations right now.

But I was acutely aware that I barely knew Simon. Sure, I had spent the last week by his side and he'd learned an awful lot about me—but he was four hundred years old, which meant there were four centuries of things to know about him.

"Are you single?" I blurted, then proceeded to cover my mouth. Of all the ways to start this conversation, that was not the one I meant to choose.

Simon tilted his head. "I don't know, Lucinda, am I?"

I huffed. "I'm serious."

"As am I."

My fangs lengthened and black veins rippled beneath my eyes in the same instant anger flooded my bloodstream. For a moment, I hated that they gave away everything I felt. "Are you seeing anyone other than me?" I snarled.

"Shouldn't you have asked this question a week ago?" he challenged.

"Answer it."

"No," Simon said. "I am not."

Relief flooded through me and I unclenched my fists at my sides.

Simon stood off the recliner, his eyes darkening impossibly further as he stalked toward me. I yelped when his hand closed over my throat; he leaned forward to press me into the couch.

"Have I done something to make you believe I am not wholly dedicated to you, Lucinda?" Simon's voice was as dark as midnight. When I didn't reply immediately, his grip tightened. "Answer me."

"No," I breathed.

"Then tell me why you are suddenly questioning this."

I shook my head as best as I could. "I don't know. I'm trying to figure things out. Everything is different now. I can't go home. I'm not sure my sister wants me, and I'm worried I forced myself into your life without you wanting me there in the first place."

Simon's grip fell away and he straightened, understanding dawning on his features. All he said was, "I want you here."