Page 101 of Taste of Death

“Fine. I’ll be right out,” I called.

“Sounds good. I’ll let her know.”

I rolled out of bed, feeling about as lively as a sack of potatoes, and did my best to make sure my face and clothes were decent. There wasn’t much to be done about my puffy eyes, but Tavia wouldn’t hold them against me.

Cyan leaned against the wall next to the front door of the apartment, typing something on his phone. “Hey, I’ll walk up with you,” he said, barely looking up as he held the door open.

“Um, okay.”

He shoved his phone into a pocket and met my eyes, his gaze sympathetic. “How’ve you been holding up?”

I shrugged, and he acknowledged the gesture with a nod.

“What’s Tavia making?” Anything to get the subject off of me as I walked past him into the corridor.

“I don’t know.” Cyan closed the apartment door behind us. “Something to do with uh, goldfish crackers, I think.”

I stopped at the bottom of the stairs going up to the main level, turned and stared at him. “What?”

He grinned sheepishly. “No idea. It’s an adventure.” Gesturing to the stairs, he added, “After you.”

The seed of suspicion had been planted when he waited and offered to escort me up to the kitchen. It was growing even more now as I climbed the stairs.

Cyan opened the door for me at the top landing, and I walked into a mostly empty great room.

Empty except for Novak.

My breath got stuck in my chest and did not seem to remember the right way out.

Novak looked as fucking dapper and handsome as ever, in gray slacks, a waistcoat, and those goddamned shirt sleeves rolled messily past his elbows. His hands were shoved in his pants pockets, making the blood vessels and lean muscles of his forearms pop.

One of those hands revealed themselves, extending toward me with long fingers that I once loved to feel running over my skin.

“Please, Amy. Just give me ten minutes to speak with you. That’s it. If you want me gone afterward, I’ll never reach out to you again. But please. I have never needed anything more than these few moments right now.”

Shocked and dazed, I looked over my shoulder at Cyan, who hovered near the door.

“You can tell him no, and we’ll kick him out,” my friend’s mate said. “Or if you do want to hear him out, we’ll give you the room. No one will eavesdrop or interrupt.”

Looking back at Novak, the desperation was plain on his face. Now that his presence had sunk in, I realized he did not look his best. He looked thinner, paler, and like he hadn’t been sleeping.

Had he been suffering this last week as well? Did he miss me, and regret what he’d said that night? What was the point of sending me those books? Those were only a few of the questions that had been running on a loop in my mind.

I was done being foolish and reckless with my feelings. But if he had any answers, I wanted to hear them.

“Yes,” I said, sounding calmer than I felt. “We can talk.”

With my focus entirely on Novak, Cyan’s voice registered behind me. “We’ll be nearby if you need anything.”

Then the door closed and we were alone.

“Why?” I said after the first beat of silence.

“Amy.” Novak’s face contorted with agony, his shoulders slumping forward. “I amsofucking sorry.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.Why?”

“None of what I said in front of Carpe Noctem was true. I swear to you, I didn’t mean any of it.”

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