Page 100 of First Offense
He glanced down at me, a smirk taunting his lips. “She has.” Two words, uttered with such finality that I wanted to break his jaw just for speaking such blasphemy.
“She’s not ours.”
“Not officially,” he agreed. “What’s stopping you? The fact that she’s royalty? Well, what happens if she can’t be reformed? What does her future look like then?” His dark hair fell into his eyes as he cocked his head to the side. “Or is she to remain on a pedestal forever, trying to reform, just to return her to a world that threw her away without any regard to her royal standing?” He looked off to the side. “Is that what you want, Layla? To remain a princess forever subjected to reform?”
My heart skipped a beat upon realizing that she was standing near the end of the bed, her wide eyes on us.
How much had she heard?
She visibly swallowed, her hand fluttering up to her throat. “I… I…”
“It’s a moot point,” I interjected. “She’s going to reform.”
Novak ran his fingers through his thick hair and granted me a rare glimpse into his emotions via the portal of his eyes.
Disbelief.
Anger.
Pity.
All three reactions swirling in his icy irises, allowing me to observe and absorb each one through some hidden connection.
He didn’t believe in reform.
Which pissed him off.
And he pitied those who still possessed hope. Angels like me.
“You need to consider what will happen if she can’t,” he replied, effortlessly lifting himself to his feet. “And we need to decide how that impactsourfuture.” He walked up to Layla and boldly cupped her cheek, his thumb drawing over her bottom lip. “Next time, I’m joining you in that shower, little cherry.”
She sucked in a breath, her cheeks reddening in response. “Novak…”
“Mmm, yes. You’ll sound just like that when you come on my tongue,” he whispered, leaning in to press his lips to her cheek.
I shoved off the floor, ready to grab him by the neck, but he’d already shifted around her, his eyes holding a promise as he glanced back at me before disappearing into the bathroom.
“Not happening,” I said, loud enough for him to hear.
“Not your choice,” he called back to me, causing my jaw to unhinge.
“She’ll never choose you,” I muttered, then realized she was still standing there, now with her hand brushing the spot where he’d kissed her. “You can’t choose him.”
Her nostrils flared. “I can choose whoever I want to choose.”
“Not him,” I stated, meaning it. “He’s not from the dukedom. He’s a warrior like me. We’re not meant for you, Layla.”
“I wasn’t meant to Fall either,” she returned. “Yet, here we are.” She flared her wings for emphasis. “And what if he’s right?” She glanced at the door and then back at me. “Thirty-seven years, Auric. That’s… that’s a very long time. I don’t think… I can’t…”
She shivered, then wrapped her arms and feathers around herself, her resulting tremble a tremor I felt to my very soul.
“What if he’s right?” she repeated. “What if I can’t reform? I don’t even really know what I did wrong. Let’s say it was because I hid from my suitors. How is that a Fall-worthy offense? And further, how do I even begin to reform? Do I send apology notes? Allow those suitors to visit me here? How do I begin to rise from such a clumsy Fall?”
“Layla,” I whispered, stepping toward her.
But she shuffled backward in response. “I think Novak’s right. I think—”
“He’s not. He’s not right. There’s a way to fix this.”
