Tasteful Darkness

Chapter 34

Balendin - Now

I used to not understand love. The concept, why humans crave it more than anything. How it can be so strong that no force in all the worlds could possibly break it.

Love makes me feel weak. As if a small gust of wind could sweep me off my feet and send me tumbling. As if I'm a breath away from saying the wrong thing and sending all of this crumbling to the ground.

I'm still standing in the exact same place I was when Elizabeth first left. I can't move.

I hate and greatly admire her ability to read me so easily.

My trance doesn't break until I'm interrupted by yet another voice. Only, this one is more familiar.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" she asks.

I look up and lock eyes with Anna. The moment I do, I practically stumble on my feet in surprise.

"Yes," I say, swallowing any lumps forming in my throat. "I am, indeed."

She smiles in such a way that melts the worries from my chest. Her smile appears to be the type that was built from years of having to smile for everyone else around her. It doesn't take a demon to know that.

She is quiet for a long moment, and I have to look away to stop myself from feeling so uncomfortable. Looking at the crowd doesn't seem to ease the feeling.

"I simply wanted to introduce myself," she says. "I am Anna."

"I know," I say, too quickly to stop myself. Immediately, I backtrack. "Peter told me about you."

"He spoke of you, too." Her attention is drawn away by something in the crowd. "Enjoy the rest of the night, Vincent."

"You as well. And congratulations."

She responds with a smile before disappearing into the crowd.

I thought I would feel grateful to be alone again, but deep down I feel envious of all the groups around me. They smile and laugh with each other, exchanging stories that light up the eyes of their friends and partners. I keep my gaze low to avoid meeting anyone's eyes.

The music fades into a slower song, and people on the floor begin to sway with one another like the waves of the ocean.

If Peter wasn't a part of the equation, I would slip away right now.

I look out at the crowd, though it's grown sparse over the night and is now only made up of a few couples. Anna and William dance together in a far corner, her head resting on his shoulder. His eyes are closed as he holds her close, never letting her stray too far.

"What is bothering you?"

I look up. Peter stands in front of me, his gaze lingering on me.

"Nothing at all," I lie.

"Something's changed," he says. "You're acting differently, and it's worrying me."

"We've been over this. You shouldn't worry about me."

"I still do. What's wrong?"

I look away, not able to meet his eyes. Though I've never seen someone's death twice, I can't help but worry about what I'll see if I look in his eyes.

When I don't answer, he adds, "The party seems to be over. Would you be all right to leave soon?"

I nod. "That would be appreciated."

"All right. I am going to say goodbye to Anna and William, then we can go back to your flat. Does that sound all right?"

"Yes."

"I won't be long." He lingers beside me for a moment longer before leaving. I keep my eyes trained on him as he goes, worried that if I take my eyes off him for even a moment, he'll be gone.

✧ ✧ ✧

The carriage ride back to my flat is silent. Peter sits across from me, and steals glances at me when he thinks I'm not looking. I notice every time, but never react. I look outside the window and constantly clench my hands into fists to relieve my nerves.

I spend the entire ride brewing over what might lead to Peter's death. It took place in the bookstore—somewhere I'm going to avoid for the rest of time—but he was crying. Why was he crying? I've seen my fair share of tears, and those didn't appear to be caused by anything happy. He looked so... broken.

When we finally make it home, I'm quick to get out of the carriage. I look both ways, searching for anything off about the street, but there's nothing. No one. Once the carriage leaves, Peter and I are the only ones in sight.

"I know you're a lover of adventures," Peter teases, "but I think I'm a little too tired to explore anywhere tonight."

"I think that's a good idea."

We get inside and I check the lock four times to make sure it works and the door won't open without a key. Peter watches me the entire time, but says nothing, and I'm grateful for it.

When I turn to look at him, he's removing his jacket and laying it down on the sofa. Even such an innocent gesture makes my insides twist with something hungry.

"Thank you for coming over," I say honestly.

He shrugs. "I have nowhere to be. Besides, I want to spend time with you, even if you don't believe it."

I roll my eyes, but I feel far from nonchalant. When I don't retort or respond with a joke, his brow creases with worry.

"Let's talk," he says, sitting down on the sofa and gesturing for me to join him. After a moment, I do, and settle beside him.

"To be honest with you," he starts, "I'm not used to seeing you like this."

My plan to suppress my emotions isn't going particularly well. "I'm tired, that's all. Your constant questions aren't making me feel better, either."

"Fair enough."

Then a silence falls and I don't know what to do. My heart trusts Peter, but I don't know if I trust him enough to tell him the truth. The entire truth. Not that he would believe a word I say.

"I don't want to talk," I practically whisper. "I just need you. With me."

His eyes soften, and he looks at me as if, in this moment, he could never imagine leaving. "Always."