“Wow. I’m going to tell my grandchildren I fought a reaper off for this scar.” Sterling eyed the newly healed skin stretching over his taut stomach in the mirror. Elise could hardly concentrate on getting her shoes off, much less whatever nonsense her friend was spewing. All she could think about was the intoxicating sensation of Layla’s lips on her throat and then her thumb, her fingers gentle but firm on her waist. Goose bumps rose across her flesh, and her blood seemed to ignite with heat.
She wanted more.
“What?” Elise asked. Her slipper finally came off her foot, and she had to grab her chair to balance herself. An hour later and she was still feeling the entrancing effects of Layla’s venom. Her body was heated, already slick with sweat from trying to fight the urges swarming her mind. She had pinned her hair back on the walk back home, but even getting extra cool air on the back of her neck couldn’t stop her internal temperature from rising.
All because of Layla.
Elise threw her slipper into her closet.
Sterling shot her a strange look. “Is everything all right? Elise, you look feverish—”
“I think I’m coming down with something,” she mumbled, gathering her skirts to try and pull her dress off. “You should go before my father comes back. I told him you were working—”
“Elise, darling!” Her father’s voice rang up from downstairs and both Elise and Sterling froze in their respective positions in her bedroom.
Sterling’s eyes widened as heavy footsteps sounded up the hallway. “What is wrong with him?” he whispered loudly.
“I think he’s drunk. You need to hide—give me that.” Elise snatched Sterling’s shirt from his hands and started shoving him behind her bed. Of course, his massive size did not allow for proper stuffing beneath the bed, so his best chance at going unseen was standing, rigid, behind Elise’s headboard. She sincerely hoped the night’s alcohol had worn off in Sterling.
With her father only steps away from her bedroom, Elise threw herself into her bed and covered up her messy dress with her blankets. Her door cracked open right as her head found her pillow. “Oh!” She laughed weakly at her father while he walked into her room. “Father, I wasn’t expecting you home so soon.”
Mr. Saint returned her smile. His was lopsided and his eyes were a bit unfocused. Drunk. Just as Elise had thought. He leaned heavily against her bed, his hand coming up to stroke her face. “Elise, I—” Mr. Saint frowned. “Heavens above, my pearl, you’re burning up. I will have your mother fetch you some tea—”
“Oh, no, Father, I’m okay,” she insisted, but he was already shaking his head.
“Nonsense. I must make sure you’re all right.” Her father sighed. He looked down at his hands and his shoulders slumped. “I fear I am a horrendous father,” he said in a low voice.
Elise’s lips parted. She wanted to sit up and comfort her father, but the risk of the covers falling back and exposing her evening dress attire was too great. “Do not say that. That is so far from the truth. I’m okay. You are such a hard worker and I know you do it all for us.”
His head lifted then, eyes misty. “Charlotte…” he said in a sad voice.
Elise blinked. “Father?”
“She was a wonderful sister; wanted to protect you even before you were born. Sometimes I fear that’s all we’re family for. Protectors of each other, never able to step back and appreciate the joy in between dangers.” Her father ducked his head.
Elise wasn’t sure what to say. She swallowed and took her father’s hand into her own. “You’ve done an incredible job protecting us, Father. I wish you did not worry so much.” Despite only being under the stifling covers for a few minutes, her flesh burned, dying for some cool air. “You’re too hard on yourself.”
Mr. Saint patted her hand, and his smile returned as he stood. “I will have the tea sent to you shortly. Maybe you should take a cold bath. I’m getting concerned, Elise. If you weren’t dark, I think you would be turning into a tomato right about now.”
A stifled laughter shook the bed. Elise, knowing it was Sterling, forced a dry laugh from her throat. “You kill me, Father.” She playfully smacked his arm.
Mr. Saint laughed a full, genuine laugh. Finally, after a swift kiss to her forehead, he left her room.
Elise didn’t allow herself to sigh until she heard his footsteps descending the stairs. She was about to throw her blanket off when her mother walked right into her bedroom. “Elise, my love, how are you doing?” Analia Saint asked, taking her husband’s previous seat beside Elise’s bed.
“I’m all right, Mother. I’m just a bit tired,” Elise assured her.
Analia Saint did not look convinced. Elise knew the sweat beading on her brow and her increasingly heavy breathing only worsened her mother’s doubt. “Let me get you a cool compress.” Analia Saint left for Elise’s bathroom. Elise stared at the ceiling, trying to calm her breathing while her mother soaked a cloth with cold water.
“Sterling,” she whispered.
“Yes.” His voice was strained.
“How are you doing?” Elise asked.
A pause. Then, “I’ve been better.”
Elise’s mother returned to her bedside with a damp cloth in her hand. She pressed it to Elise’s forehead. The coolness soaked into her skin, spreading an ample amount of relief through her body. But only for a few moments. Then Elise was back to resisting the urge to twitch beneath her blanket of heat. “I put some lavender and chamomile oil on the cloth, so it should help you sleep.” She leaned in and gently brushed her lips over Elise’s cheek. “Try to rest tonight, love, okay?”
Elise nodded. “I will, Mother. Thank you.” She reached for her mother’s hand as she stood to go. “I love you.”
Then Elise’s bedroom door swung open again. Her father walked in, teacup in hand. “A family affair, how wonderful!” he cheered. “It turns out we are all out of tea. So I brought you hot lemon water with honey. I heard that it works wonders against illness.”
Mrs. Saint nodded. “Yes, darling, it does.” She patted his chest, smiling. “We should let her get some rest now.”
Mr. Saint murmured his agreement, leaning in to kiss her. Elise’s eyes widened as he attempted to set the steaming cup down on the nightstand while still focused on his wife. He missed. Horribly. The teacup shattered on the floor, hot water spilling across the floorboards behind her bed.
Elise covered her face as Sterling let out a pained stream of expletives. He darted from behind her bed, limping on reddened feet. With his bloody shirt and his attempt at hiding, Elise knew her parents would get the wrong idea. She sat up, the blankets falling back to reveal her dress. “Father, I—”
Mr. Saint held his hand up. His eyes were trained on Sterling, who was still hobbling to the bathroom. “I’m going to assume that Sterling left work early to take care of you since you’ve been sick. Because he would never abandon his post.” His voice was grave. Even though inebriation still gleamed in his eyes, Mr. Saint managed to remain completely severe.
Mrs. Saint had a hand clamped over her mouth. Tobias Saint gripped her arm with gentle fingers and pulled her into his side. “Elise, I will speak with you about this when you are well.” He looked to the bathroom, where Sterling was sticking one of his feet into the sink. “Sterling, I want you in my office in five minutes.”
“Yes, sir,” Sterling called.
Mr. Saint gave her a final stern look, then pulled her mother out of the room with him. Elise threw her covers back and shot out of bed. She went right to the bathroom, but Sterling had already emerged, feet damp, and covered in painful, red splotches. “Sterling…” she started. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”
“No, you didn’t. You certainly did not think.” Sterling yanked at his shirt. He cursed when he remembered the bloodstain on the front and grabbed one of Elise’s robes to cover himself with. It stretched across his broad shoulders in an unflattering way, and the fur-lined collar stuck up behind his head. Elise almost laughed at the sight. But she could only bite her lip, stifling the smile that threatened to crack her face. Sterling’s anger seemed to increase with each heated word. “This is your family; you’re allowed to mess up. This is my job. I was invited here. I cannot screw this up.” He glared at her when she couldn’t keep in a small giggle. “Really, Elise?”
Elise clamped her mouth shut. She ran after him, grabbing his arm as he tried to leave. “Are you really upset?” she asked.
Sterling’s eyes dropped to her throat and they sharpened. Then he scowled. “I cannot believe you.”
“What—”
“You let a reaper bite you?” Sterling hissed.
Her hand flew to the spot where Layla had sunk her fangs. “I swear it’s not… Sterling, please listen—”
“Look where that got me tonight. I might be fired.” His voice shook.
Elise released his arm. “He would never. You’re a Saint lieutenant. You’re like his son—”
“You don’t get it. That’s exactly why I’m upset. You take all this family stuff for granted. Not all of us can be reckless with the ones we love,” Sterling snapped.
The well of hurt in his eyes pierced Elise’s heart. Not a moment passed where Sterling did not think of his biological family; Elise knew that. She had never stopped to consider how that made him connect with her family, or how it made him twice as afraid to lose them. Still, his words picked at a soreness in her soul. Thinking of Josi, of Charlotte, and even of Layla, who had all had something taken from them, and how Elise gave herself to the Saint empire to give them a sense of normalcy and justice.
Sterling’s words echoed through Elise again. Not all of us can be reckless with the ones we love. Her chest tightened and she glared at her friend. “What is that supposed to mean?” Elise demanded.
“You know exactly what it means,” Sterling said. He left her then, cold words still hanging in the air.
Elise sank onto her bed, shoulders slumped and exhaustion burning her eyes. Her throat constricted to the point of pain with the effort to keep her tears at bay.
The worst part was that Elise knew Sterling was right.
Layla knew better than to believe she could sneak into the lair, but she did it anyway. Her feet were soundless on the floor all the way to her room, but when she opened her bedroom door, the light clicked on and there was Mei, waiting.
Her pretty face twisted into an expression of pure horror. “Layla, oh my God, my dress!” she nearly shrieked.
Her piercing voice hurt Layla’s ears, but she knew she deserved it. Layla had promised to take care of this dress; Mei had trusted her with it. Now it hung on her body in tatters, blood covering the delicate fabric. Layla fixed her face with a sharp glare and stepped out of the dress. As beautiful as it looked on her, even in ruins, she was tired of lugging the thing around. And it smelling like Elise’s blood, which still ravaged, or rather, bewitched her system, did not make wearing it any easier.
“We’re even now,” Layla said. She pointed to her mattress, still ruined from Mei’s accident a few weeks ago. “Actually, I would say you still owe me because what is a dress compared to a mattress, but I’m feeling generous tonight.”
Mei stood. The initial shock was gone from her face and had been replaced with cold annoyance. “You are such an ass. Sometimes you can be really selfish, you know.”
Layla gave her a dry smile. “Then I guess that makes me a real reaper.” She collapsed onto her bed, half expecting Mei to join her, though she did not desire another presence. Despite the human blood running through her system, the day’s events beat out the adrenaline with exhaust.
Sighing, Mei scooped up her dress and headed out of the room. She stopped by the door. “You reek, by the way,” Mei said flatly.
“Do I?” Layla asked, disinterested. She knew she smelled like blood, but there was no way Mei would know whose it was. And as long as her and Elise’s tryst remained secret, Layla did not care what Mei thought about her nightly activities.
“There better not be another dead body on the news tomorrow. Or the whole clan will have your ass.” Mei shut the door behind her.
Layla closed her eyes, exhaling. Alone, she didn’t stop her mind from slipping to the Saint heiress. She wondered if Elise thought of her too. She knew her venom created urges that heightened a reaper’s appeal, forcing the infected to yearn for another bite. Layla wondered if the feeding had left a mark on Elise in other ways besides physical.
She turned her face into her pillow, forcing herself to breathe in Mei’s scent and cover any thoughts of Elise. It worked for only a few moments. Then Elise came slipping back into her mind. She always did.
Layla wanted more than just a bite.
She drifted off to sleep with the Saint heiress controlling her thoughts, her essence running through her body. Veins open, heart racing, Layla tumbled headfirst into a pit of vulnerability that only ended with her limbs loosening and heart softening. Elise Saint was a bittersweet entity of destruction and healing against which nothing could be done. Layla was fully stuck with her. She was completely full of Elise. And it scared her.