Page 25 of The Devil's Waltz

Because finding a balance between comfort and enjoying new experiences is about compromising—often, as I’ve come to learn, with myself.

NINEXANDER

I haven’t heard from Camille since she left my apartment on Sunday morning. Yesterday was the anniversary of her sister’s death, which didn’t feel like the right time to reach out. I planned to send her a text this morning after my post-run shower, and was pleasantly surprised to find two messages from her waiting for me.

Hey, sorry I freaked out the other day. Thanks for being cooler about it than I was.

My friends Phoebe and Grayson invited us out for dinner and drinks tonight, but I know it’s last minute, so no worries if you’re busy.

Hmm. A double date. I’d much rather spend my time with Camille alone, but if this is what she needs to get back to that, then that’s what we’ll do. Plus, it’s probably a good idea to get to know the people in her life she’s close with. Especially her non-hunter friends. I suspect the roommate, Harper, will be something of an obstacle at some point, but I can’t concern myself with that at the moment.

No apology necessary. Dinner sounds fun. Can I pick you up?

Pheebs made a reservation at The Cheesecake Factory for 6 p.m. Does that work for you?

Absolutely. I’ll pick you up at 5:30?

The text bubbles appear and disappear a few times before her reply comes through.

Great! I’ll see you then.

Her next message is a map link to her address.

Looking forward to it.

Pocketing my phone, I walk out of the bedroom and into the kitchen to make avocado toast with a fried egg for breakfast. It’s nearly eleven, which is typically later than I start my day, but I slept through my alarm this morning. I’m inclined to blame it on feeding last night. It got rid of the lingering exhaustion that was clinging to me like a transparent film, but replaced it with a heaviness in my chest I can’t shake. Ergo, staying unconscious as long as I could.

Feeding to appease my demon side has been something I’ve battled with for some time. I’ve gotten used to the lethargy that creeps in when I go for extended periods without it, much to my mother’s dismay. She’d be far more satisfied if I embraced the monster she created within me. I’ve come close on a number of occasions, but have never fully committed. In a lot of ways, it would be so much easier than fighting with my humanity on a daily basis. But, as ironic as it sounds, the idea breeds a razor-sharp fear in me as much as it entices me.

Thanks to the human DNA that makes up part of me, I could get away with feeding a couple times a week to maintain my strength. Before last night, I hadn’t fed in…fuck, probably a month. No wonder the recharge knocked me out when I got home last night.

My phone buzzes as I’m cracking a second egg into the pan, and I toss the shell in the trash, wiping my hands on my pants before pulling my phone out. “What’s up, Blake?”

“Remind me to teach you some proper greetings, because yours are getting quite lackluster, my friend.”

I roll my eyes despite him not being able to see me and debate hanging up without another word.

“Okay, okay,” he cuts in before I can end the call. “I’m just checking in before I take off for a few days.”

“Where are you going?” I grab a knife and the ripest avocado from the produce bowl on the island.

“Lucia has me escorting some high-level demon friend of hers to a summit in Vegas. I don’t know what it’s for and I truly don’t care.”

I slice the avocado before scooping it into a bowl and mashing it. “Great,” I mutter dryly, adding a splash of lemon juice, salt, and pepper. “Who’s she sticking me with while you’re gone?”

Blake hesitates, and I curse under my breath.

That means I’ll be forced to endure Francesca while he’s away.

There was a time I wouldn’t mind her company. Hell, there were many nights she warmed my bed, and I thoroughly enjoyed her particular set of skills. But that was before she tried to force my hand into a bonding ceremony that would give her status in our world. I don’t trust her and I don’t believe for one fucking minute that her standing in for Blake is a coincidence. She’s been so far up my mother’s ass—even after I told her where to go—that I’d bet Fran suggested Blake be the one to escort whoever to Vegas. Probably in the same breath she insisted she be the one to guard me in his absence.

“I’m sorry, mate.”

“It’s fine.” I slice off a couple pieces of sourdough from the loaf I grabbed at the bakery down the street, dropping them into the toaster none too gently before slamming the lever down. I exhale a sharp breath, clenching my jaw at the situation—yet another one I’m completely powerless in.

“Believe me, I tried to get out of this trip. Your mother’s friends are all fucking insane—and not in a hot way.”

A shudder rolls through me as my stomach clenches painfully. The smell of the eggs cooking suddenly makes me feel sick. I’ve spent time with many of my mother’s friends. It was never by choice and is something I would quite literally give anything to forget.

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