Storm of Shadows (Lumineers 1)

CHAPTER 32: COMPANY

Midnight simmered all evening, his mood a direct opposite to what it had been most of the day. Every word was snappy, a genuine pain in Tabby's ass. She knew why, even if he hadn't bothered bringing it up again, she knew he waned to. He was angry that she hadn't shared the real motivation behind her selfish plight. It clearly struck a nerve.

"Out with it," she finally said, not bothering to look up at his glower.

He growled. Then, as if he'd been waiting for her invitation, snapped, "You could have told me—should have told me."

He sat at the sofa while she sat at the table, oiling Nit. The little bugger cooed with every caress. "It wouldn't have made a difference," she mumbled, shooting him a quick glance. It was late. They'd gotten meat pies from Marley's and stuffed themselves full, taking advantage of a bottle of gin she'd found in Elias's bedroom. Not enough to get shit-faced, but...she felt good. Midnight, on the other hand, was being a buzz kill.

"Doesn't matter. You still should have told me." Sensing her lack of desire to argue, he switched tactics. "What will you do with the information?"

Her movements were slow, deliberate. She finished with Nit, setting her things down. "Haven't decided yet." That wasn't true. She'd spent hours, painstaking hours, thinking about it, obsessing over it, running through possible options. "Maybe I'll kill the bastard. Hurt him. Ask him why he was so fucked up. Why he sacrificed me to a fate worse than death? Or all of the above? Guess I'll cross that bridge when I get there."

"I've often wondered if you blamed him."

"For just about everything? Yeah."

Midnight fell silent, gazing at the stove. The coals had burned down to embers.

"What?" she said again.

He didn't look at her when he next spoke. "Do you blame me?"

She stilled. "Why? Should I?"

A grunt, then—"I made you what you are."

That earned a snort. "Get a grip, Midnight. You did what you had to. We both did. My father gave me up as clay. The Spectrum was the potter's wheel."

"And I—the hands that shaped you."

"I like your hands," she said, sweetly, looking over at him, recalling exactly where those skilled hands had touched her. Thinking back on exactly what they'd done mere hours ago before Steiner had come to call. They'd taken every opportunity between their bouts of sleep to enjoy each other. She'd had more orgasms today than she could count on five fingers. He didn't fall for the bait, though. Instead, his expression was unreadable. She sighed, turning serious, and added, "Don't take the blame for what they forced upon us. You don't deserve it."

"How can I not?" He looked at her then. His throat bobbed. "I'm responsible for it. I tried to make it easier for you," he said, voice low. "But I knew that every ounce of mercy I showed you would soften you. Too soft and the clay never takes form. The Spectrum has no use for malformed property. Which of course would have meant losing you. That, also, would have been my fault."

Discarding her apron, she went to the couch and straddled his hips, pushing herself as close as possible, feeling him harden beneath her. It felt forbidden to behave like this, even though things had changed between them. Delightful as it was, she still wasn't used to it.

His fingers crept beneath the hem of her suede corset, brushing against her spine. "Hmm. I like this thing," he murmured, distracted.

She kissed him, pushing his head back, teasing him with her tongue, pulling on his bottom lip. "You made me strong," she said. "You made me what I needed to be. The last thing I want is your guilt, Theo. Let it go."