Page 30 of Midnight Queen

“Quincey.” I shake my head as I slowly approach her like she’s a skittish kitten. I can’t pretend to understand the varying emotions she’s experiencing. She’s been through more than anyone should have to in such a short period. She tries to look away from me, but I gently grip her chin to keep her in place. Her eyes flutter closed instead. “Look at me,” I order. After a moment of hesitation, her eyes finally meet mine once more. “Ira’s personal effects have been boxed up and are with him. I thought you would like to be the one to go through them.”

As if she’d been holding it, she releases a long breath before leaning into my hand. “How did you know I’d be here to go through them?”

“Because there simply wasn't any other option,” I answer without hesitation. “I once vowed to burn down the world for you, and I meant every word. If Rory hadn’t discovered the warehouse, I would have turned everything to ashes until I found you.” I’d made that promise thinking I’d never have to act on it, but I was minutes away from following through with it. “You were always coming home to me,Mon Soleil.”

Leaning forward, she drops her head to my bare chest. Her hands, that now have a constant tremor to them, clutch my sides. “How could you have been so sure?”

“I didn’t wait hundreds of years to find you, only to lose you. You’remine. The angel of death himself will have to take you from me, that’s the only way I’m letting go of you now.”

She stays quiet for a moment, her head remaining pressed to my silent heart before she finally speaks up. “I knew you were looking for me. There wasn’t a single part of me that doubted that for a second, but there were a few moments I really didn’t think you’d make it in time. When—” she starts but the words get stuck in her throat, “—When he made the first cut, I thought he’d stop there but then he went to the other side of my chest, and I thought about you finding me bleeding out just like I found Ira. I wouldn’t ever want you to see me like that, so I found myself just for a second, hoping you wouldn’t find me. I wanted to spare you from that. No one should have to see that.”

“That heart of yours is too kind for this world, my love. Even in your darkest moment, you were consumed with thoughts of someone else’s well-being.” My hand soothes down her back. “I wish there was a way I could make you forget that memory. That’s not how Ira would want you to remember him.”

“No.” Her head shakes instantly. “I don’t want to forget it. I want to remember that even though it was horrible, I was there for him like I promised.” Her tears begin to drip down my chest as she speaks in hoarse, broken whispers. “I held his hand and told him everything was going to be okay, even when I knew I was lying.” Her shoulders shake as the sobs consume her body. “Ikeptmy promise, Silas.” She lifts her chin and looks up at me when she stammers, “I really don’t want to cry anymore.”

“I know,” I tell her softly, brushing the hair from her tear-soaked face. “But you can. You can cry, Quincey.”

And with that, the woman who’s met every challenge I’ve thrown at her with her head held high and her defiant smirk in place breaks in my arms.

For a week,she remained in my bedroom, while the physical and mental scars inflicted on her mended. When she wasn’t drifting off to sleep in my bed, she was shifting between the bed and the chair by the fireplace, one of the romance novels I brought to her always in hand.

I can only hope the places her dreams and those books took her give her the peaceful escape I don’t know how to give her myself.

Since the beginning, Quincey Page has thrown me off balance, and now I feel even more at a loss when it comes to her. All I want to do is keep her safe and heal the wounds she endured, but I don't know how to ease her pain when I’m the one who caused it.

I may have not sliced her skin with a knife, but I recognize the role I played. While she may be willing to grant me her forgiveness, I’m not sure if I will ever be able to forgive myself.

I’m determined to find a way to make up for it, but I’m quickly learning my efforts are becoming more irritating than appreciated by Quincey.

Sitting with her back against the headboard, Quincey’s head cocks to the side as she stares at the far wall where the new canvas hangs. “Why is that there? Where did the other painting go?”

When I purchased the antique Gothic painting many decades ago, I hadn’t given the dark depiction a second thought. Not until I found Quincey’s sad eyes lingering on the depiction of a man being staked to a stone table did I pay it any mind. Instantly, I felt foolish that I’d left such a blatant and thoughtless reminder mounted on the wall. While she slept, I’d replaced it with a simple red monochromatic painting that had been in storage.

Also looking at the new canvas, I ask, “Do you not like it? I can find another one.”

She closes the book she has open on her lap. “I just don't understand why you changed it. The other one was obviously something you enjoyed, or you wouldn’t have hung it on your bedroom wall.”

“Really? You can’t think of a reason as to why I wouldn’t want it hanging on my bedroom wall any longer?”

Her lips press into a flat line as she stares at me for a second. The bruising on her face has turned yellow and the cut on her lip is just a faint scab. The stitches in her chest will need to be removed in the next week, but the doctor who’s been back to check on her says the cuts are healing well. Unfortunately, the scars will be permanent. Ugly reminders for both of us.

“Silas, I know what you’re doing,” Quincey finally sighs. “But you don’t have to. I’m fine.”

Fine. That’s the word she’s been using since she woke up the day after crying in Ira’s room and every time she says it, I hate it more and more. It’s a lie and I despise lies, especially when they come from her.

“You keep saying that.”

“Yes, and I mean it. You can stop coddling me now,” she smiles reassuringly, but still, I don't believe her. “I want nothing more than to spend time with you, but you’ve put everything on hold for a week now. I’ve heard your phone ringing nonstop—I know things need your attention.”

Stalking toward the bed, I shake my head at her and cage her between my arms once I’m close enough. “Nothing is more important than you, Quincey. Everything else can wait for me.” Just as I don’t like her lying to me, I don’t like lying to her, but while she continues to recuperate, I’ll continue to do so. She doesn’t need the added stress of knowing what a shitstorm everything is outside of this house.

Scooting farther up the headboard, she tilts her head up toward mine. “I’m more than capable of waiting for you as well.” Her eyes linger on my mouth as she says, “But you know, nottoolong.”

She waits patiently for me to bridge the gap between us, but when I make no move to do so, Quincey snakes her hand up and grips my chin, guiding my mouth to hers.

My veins burn with a hungry fire as her lips press against mine. Each time I’ve been given the gift of kissing Quincey Page, I experience the same rush I had the first time I consumed blood. Her kisses feed my black soul the same way blood fuels my body. My fingers curl into fists on the bed as I force myself to not deepen the kiss like I want to.

I crave to reacquaint myself with her body—to feel her heat until it becomes my own once again—but no matter how much I crave her, I can’t bring myself to go further than this.

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