An Oath In Blood (Book #3)

Chapter 43: Kiss and Make Up

WARREN HALE

I tried to stay downstairs, surrounded by people I knew but had no desire to engage with, until I couldn't anymore, until the urge to be with Corvina overrode my patience. I didn't remember being so impatient, so eager to be in someone's company. Even with my friends, I usually had this impenetrable wall that none of them could breach. Tariq was the only one who got close enough to do so.

I shifted from one foot to the other, the glass of champagne I had picked up now weighing on my hand like a nuisance. I wanted to dump it somewhere and bolt to the first floor, where I knew I would find her. What was going on with me?

Harry, a man I had been introduced to by Jace as the contractor he had worked with on his house, was droning on and on about a property he had flipped last year. I had lost interest minutes ago, but I stood by my friend's side merely to be polite. But not one word coming out of the man's mouth interested me. I took a distracted sip from the flute in my hand, nodding along as if I understood what he was saying. Perhaps, if I actually paid attention to his words, I would understand him, but I had no desire or motivation to do so.

I was about to excuse myself from the conversation to go to the toilet when I heard my name being called from behind me. I whipped my neck in Tariq's direction so fast, my head spun, and the champagne flute almost went crashing to the ground.

"Excuse me, gentlemen. I need to steal him for a moment," Tariq said to the group. Harry smiled and waved him off without a word, turning to the rest of his audience. I had a feeling he didn't truly care who he was talking to, as long as he had a group of people who listened. Jace watched us for a moment, offering me a small smile when my gaze caught his.

"Yes?" I asked, turning towards Tariq. I tried to keep the hope out of my voice, the relief that accompanied it. But it sneaked its way into my words and possibly even my expression.

"We need to talk. In private." Tariq's gaze bore into mine–he wasn't one to shy away from confrontation. I had never seen the man sugarcoat his words or beat around the bush. It was one of the qualities I most admired about him. I nodded mutely as I followed him through the swarm of guests in the main hall, towards one of the sliding glass doors that led into the garden. No one followed us or stopped us as we stepped into the crisp evening air. The weather had cooled down compared to this morning, and I inhaled deeply to let the cool air calm my insides.

I fell into step beside Tariq, who didn't stop walking as we weaved our way to the back of the house, the garden stretching along the property in a semi-circle. I followed him quietly, waiting for him to break the silence. I did not want to say the wrong thing and make the situation worse between us. I couldn't bear losing him.

"I am sorry," he finally spoke, his deep voice calm and so low, I almost did not hear him.

"What? Why are you apologizing?" My eyebrows shot high on my forehead as I regarded him. He stopped walking, coming to a stand beside the bushes lining the back wall of the property. A sigh left him, his shoulders drooping as if the fight was leaving him slowly. I shifted closer to him, hesitating for a moment before putting a hand on his shoulder.

"I have been acting poorly these past couple of days," he breathed out, turning his head to the side slightly to look at me. I looked away.

"Who can blame you? I deserved it." My hand fell away from his shoulder. Tariq stood a few inches taller than me, but now, his shoulders weighed with problems I couldn't see or know of, and he somehow looked shorter than I was. A husk of the man he usually was.

"No, you didn't." He shook his head. "I was worried about Em, and I was angry at myself for not being there to protect her, and I took it all out on you."