Chapter 43

"They're everywhere. Both cities are full of his posters. He kept us out all night."

I whipped around to Orin standing in the doorway, looking tired beyond his years. When our eyes met, there were both a thousand words exchanged and none. His gazed dipped low, taking every languid second he could steal. Last night's kiss rattled through me until I could feel his lips like a silent ghost over mine.

Orin walked into the small apartment, stopping to kiss his mother on the head before taking the open seat beside me. I straightened when he rested a hand along the back of my chair, forcing a breath in and a breath out as I prepared myself for the fight. But when his fingers trailed along my back, when he leaned over to whisper in my ear, it was all I could do to keep my heartbeat steady.

"Care to tell me why my wife is wearing another man's shirt?"

The deep growl of his voice rattled my nerves. Steeling myself, I pushed away from the table, ignoring the way his arm dropped, sliding down my back as I stood.

"No."

The plink of my glass on the counter was as loud as the pulse thundering in my ears. This infuriating man was so good at breaking me, so damn good at making me aware of every move he made. I didn't even have to look to know he watched me disappear down the hall and escape into a tiny bedroom.

Door slamming open, he stalked forward. "Gods, Deyanira. When are you going to stop fighting me?"

I scoffed. "Two seconds after you stop fighting me."

"I wasn't, and you still ran away."

"I guess I'm too used to the way you hate me."

He took three steps toward me, and Serenity was drawn before the fourth. Orin's golden eyes flicked to the blade, unbothered as he closed the distance between us, gripping my hand on my own dagger, shoving it away so he could grab the collar of the oversized shirt Paesha had brought me. "When you speak, I can hear the battle. When you glare, I can feel your repulsion. And I can't breathe when you are near. I can't think or see beyond my own rage. Whatever power you hold over me is a vicious form of torture. And I am weak for you. Only you."

"This isn't repulsion, nor weakness, Husband. This is fucking obsession. Every day. Every second. And maybe I'm a masochist because I don't want to be without it."

"You don't know what you're asking for, Nightmare."

My eyes dropped to his lips, the tension as thick as castle walls. "Yes. I. Do."

The world shifted abruptly, as if time had bent to his will. One moment he'd been seething, and the next, his mouth crashed onto mine with a searing urgency that left no room for restraint. The press of his lips was an oath to our shared longing, a craving that consumed us both. I found myself trapped between the solidity of the wall and the hard contours of his body, a willing captive in a dance of fervent need. The thought that I should resist was a fleeting echo, easily drowned out by the primal desire coursing through me.

I came alive with the need of him, my body responding as it always had with his touch. Breasts growing heavy, legs weakening, warmth pooling as we finally, finally let the walls between us fall. And I wanted him. Every inch. I wanted to writhe beneath him and pant his name. I wanted to hear his breath catch the second before release. I wanted the peak of my desire to last an eternity at his fingertips until he drove into me so hard I could not bear it. I wanted him to take it all. And keep it.

His hand slipped into my hair, possessively deepening our kiss. My lips parted, an invitation he accepted eagerly, his tongue brushing mine with a practiced tease. Clutching his shirt, I pulled him closer. The wave of longing spiraled. The taste of him was my complete undoing. With every movement of our lips, the world faded into insignificance, leaving only the intoxicating pull.

Eventually, our need for air forced us to part. The lingering touch, a bittersweet reminder of what I'd longed for. Our eyes remained locked in a silent exchange. A wordless confession of how much we needed each other. Breathless, we stared, the electricity of our kiss still crackling in the air, binding us in a spell we were reluctant to break.

"You deserved so much more than the stolen kiss on the stage." His eyes searched mine as if seeking answers to questions we both feared to voice. "I'm so tired of fighting you. Of fighting myself. I know what I want. I've known for a long time, but I've been so angry, trying to convince myself that you were the problem. But it's always been me. That first night in your bedroom, there was a light in your eyes, unlike anything I'd ever seen. So much grit and defiance. But at the wedding, when you'd pieced together what I'd done, I watched that damn light fade, and it ripped everything I thought I knew about myself to shreds. Every day, I check to see if it's returned, if you've rediscovered the happiness you had before I stole it from you, and it never has. I'm sorry I broke you so thoroughly. I don't hate you. I hate me."

"Orin…"

"Give me everything. I want your sadness. Your guilt. I want your happiness, too. And every moment that makes those lips curl into a smile." He leaned down, breath hot against my neck. "I want to hear the little growls you make when we fight. And I want to hear you purr my name when we are not fighting. When I am buried between your beautiful legs, I want every breath and every pant."

He kissed me again, desperately, as if he hadn't wished on a falling star, but instead upon my lips. His touch was a brand, his fingers lingering on my skin as he spoke, leaving an imprint that matched his words. "I'm not asking you to love me, Dey. I'm not even asking you to like me. I just need you to forgive me."

I forced myself away from him, shoving space and time and the ability to think between us. He was all-consuming, but I needed truth. I needed to trust him. "If you want my forgiveness, then tell me honestly. Did you kill that man in the alley?"

Amber eyes fell to my swollen lips. "Yes."

A jolt of shock betrayed me as I stumbled further away. "You lied?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

He moved in, brows dropping. "There's nothing I can say that will justify it."

"Try," I demanded, placing a palm on his chest to hold the distance.

"To protect you and keep you from hunting answers you won't find."

"Are you a Death Lord?"

He raised a shoulder. "I don't know what I am. I've never seen Death. I've never been forced to kill a specific person."

"You hated me for who I was when you were exactly the same."

He nodded, eyes on me once more. "No one knows. Not Paesha, Hollis, not even my mother."

"Then why would you tell me?"

"Because someday, Death will come to reap my soul and punish me for breaking his promise to the people. And when he does, somebody needs to know why."

The ache in his voice, the way he'd laid himself bare, revealing a sacred part of himself, held me in place.

"Can you forgive me?"

"Don't be greedy, Husband."

"He's in his castle.Nowhere near the theater."

"And Drexel?" Orin asked, shoulder pinned to mine as I stroked the dog curled in my lap while we sat on the dusty couch pressed against a wall of the Syndicate's apartment.

"He's… At Lady Visha's."

Boo raised his head as Quill bounded into the room. Plopping down beside me, she gave the pup a hug, giggling when he licked her little face.

"Now's the time to move, then. We have to get into that theater as soon as possible."

He was up and moving without a second thought. Hustling around the apartment, pulling a few weapons from a slew of nooks and crannies, and plopping them onto the table.

"Throwing knives, Thea. As many as you can."

She shoved away from the table, running for the kitchen. "How attached are you to the silverware, P?"

"What?" Paesha ran after her, hollering, and then Thea started yelling, and before anyone could discern what was really happening, Elowen came back into the living room and dumped a drawer full of utensils onto the table.

The two women followed right behind her. I stood. Orin grabbed hold of Paesha, tugging her away as he cradled her into his chest. Quill stepped in, taking her hand.

"It's faster if I can start with metal," Thea said, so quietly I almost hadn't heard it.

Something in my heart broke when Paesha nodded, and Thea drew her hammer. I bit the inside of my cheek at the Huntress's uninhibited sob. They were his. This apartment was Ezra's home away from the Syndicate house. And little by little, it'd been pieced away, given to those in need. Those who suffered until all that remained beyond the dusty memories were the things Paesha must have held on to.

"Paesha?" I whispered.

She turned; a rare moment of weakness settled onto her beautiful face.

"We don't need them. Keep your silverware."

She shook her head, leaving Orin's arms to stand before me, her back to the table as she gripped my hands, resting her forehead on mine. "I have to let him go, Maiden."

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I threw my arms around her and held on tight as the hammer struck as true as the magic that filled the room. When Thea drew it away, a tiny throwing knife had taken its place. On and on she went, each strike causing Paesha to jerk in my arms.

"I'm sorry," I said, so only she could hear me. "I'm so fucking sorry."

She sniffled. "What is a simple fork compared to the freedom of a friend?"

Armed to the teeth,every member of the Syndicate that was able to join us wound their way through the tunnel, back to Misery's End, in silent determination. I wasn't foolish enough to believe they'd all come for me, but the man on my right, eyes cold and dark as he led the charge, had, and he wasn't shy about that declaration. Nor were Paesha and Quill, who'd packed in behind us, swords strapped to their backs and worry in their eyes.

Even Elowen had come. And though her son had argued, when she'd put her foot down, he silently retreated. This was not my moment, not really. It was theirs. Because if I somehow made it to that stage, it was their freedom on the line just as much as my own.

We'd argued over Quill coming. Most of us wanted her to stay away from the place. I'd sworn I could perform whatever he wanted without her, but we also trusted no one else to keep her safe, and we had no choice but to believe the Maestro coveted the power she promised more than appeasing a king that did not scare him. When Paesha mentioned he would ask where she was and they would be forced to answer, giving away their second hideout and the girl, the argument was over, and she and her pup had come along, though no one was happy about it.

"I think I don't want to be friends with Drexel anymore," Quill confessed halfway through the underground labyrinth.

The others halted, but most were bound by magic to not interfere. I had no such bindings. Maybe Elowen was afraid of the Maestro's anger, but I wasn't.

"I think that would be a very wise and mature decision," I said, kneeling before the child.

"Do you think so, too?" she asked, giant blue eyes staring into Paesha's.

I knew she couldn't answer. I knew the panic in her eyes was that of the Huntress trying to fight the magic that bound her words.

"Of course, she does, Quilly." I reached for Boo, pulling him close as a distraction. "And so does this little rascal. If you don't want to go tonight, you don't have to. I will take you somewhere safe. And no one else will know, so he won't be able to force them."

She shook her head, letting her power swell in the hallway. "Do you feel that?"

I nodded, the magic pulsing through me.

Hollis leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. "That's love. As pure as it gets."

I watched as each member sank into that feeling, shoulders dropping, faces softening.

"You can choose the emotion?"

She smiled, nodding. "And this one's for you."

She flung herself at me, arms wrapping around my neck. "I have to save you tonight, like you saved me because I love you."

I fell backward, letting the words that had only been spoken to me once in my whole life repeat over and over in my mind. Until the world turned blurry behind my tears and the innocent soul of a child healed something damaged within me.

"You don't have to save me, kid. I can save myself."

She pulled away, placing her palms on both sides of my face. "Do you think the Maestro will hurt me?"

I shook my head. I didn't want her to be afraid, but I also truly believed he wouldn't.

"Then if you love me back, you will let me come. We're a family. We have to stick together."

She squeezed my cheeks until my lips puckered. Boo barked, and she giggled. "You're not even medium scary anymore. You're just Dey."

"Just Dey," I repeated. "But we have to go now, okay?"

She moved back to Paesha, the woman who'd been more like a mother to her than anyone else, then turned and grabbed Hollis's hand. "Family, right?"

"The best one," he answered as we began the rest of our trek down the hall.

"Stay here," Orin ordered, placing his hands on the hidden door to the theater a while later.

Moving to stand beside him, I drew my blades, letting the feel of their solid handles kick-start my adrenaline. "You couldn't pay me enough coins to sit in this tunnel while you go offer yourself as bait."

His lips parted to argue, but as his eyes fell on his mother and shifted to Quill, he stopped, likely realizing what was at stake. He nodded, swinging the door open. When it was only him and I in the silent, dark theater, he reached for me, for my hand, steadying both of us as we moved like wraiths.

But the theater was completely empty. Not a soul. Not a heartbeat. Absolutely no one had come yet. Early though it was, we'd been so confident there was a battle to be had. Winding through the halls, we searched the rooms; even Drexel's office was dark and empty.

"It's in the terms, he can't hand me over to the king," I said, pausing in a hallway.

"That doesn't mean he can't step out of the way."

"Think about it, though. His posters are promising the greatest show ever and free admission. He's not going to do something like that without cutting off Icharius. Drexel's been playing this game a lot longer than Icky. He's smart. Too smart. He's been running these cities for a long time."

Orin stroked a thumb across his bottom lip, eyes flickering down the dark hall. "True. But you're saying we have to place bets on which beast has the biggest bite right now."

"That's never going to be a question. Drexel's always going to win that war. There's no way Icharius isn't where he is because your boss had a hand in it. I just can't figure out the puzzle. Have you… have you ever tried to…" I slid my thumb across my throat rather than speak the words aloud, just in case. "I know he's your uncle, but…"

He leaned closer to breathe his answer into my ear. "Yes. Twice. But he never knew it was me, and he never died."

"Maybe his claims of bargaining with Death were real."

I took a step to continue our journey back to the hiding Syndicate members, but he stopped me. "In hours, this theater is going to fill with people. Probably more than ever before. If he's truly making deals with Death, promise me you'll be careful. Stay hidden until showtime, even if we're all called away. Make no more bargains, okay? In and out."

I nodded as he pressed his lips to mine. "This marriage is only getting started, Wife. I won't see it end before I have a chance with you."