Wicked After Midnight(82)

“Us.”

“And yet here we are. All alone in the greatest museum in Franchia. Think of all the things we could be doing here, and yet we stand arguing in a hall. You could always kiss me to into silence.”

For a brief moment, I let myself think of all the things we could be doing—against this very wall, on one of the velvet couches, upstairs in the Sun King’s old bed. And yet . . . I couldn’t.

“My life is really complicated right now, Vale.”

“Yes, and that is why it’s good to have someone on your side.”

“You’re already on my side.”

“But I could be on your inside, too.”

A fire burst into life in my belly and radiated outward. I knew what he meant, but it was the double entendre that really caught me. And maybe it would have been easy to give in. But I knew how relationships happened in Sang, and no matter what I had thought about romance from the confines of the caravan, I wasn’t ready to give up my autonomy and start letting him call the shots. Especially when his first demand would be that I stop seeing Lenoir and drinking absinthe.

But I couldn’t tell him that, so I chickened out and went for the cheap shot.

“Maybe once I’ve found Cherie. But until then . . .”

“Until then, you dance on your side of the line.” He dug tight fists into his eyes. “And I dance along with you. From the other side.”

“I have responsibilities.”

“You keep saying that. As if I don’t know. Mon dieu, bébé, do you hear yourself?” He rubbed his head as he paced back and forth, more agitated than I’d yet seen him. “I have halted my life to help you. I have not been back to my tribe since I found you. I haven’t seen my horse. Do you think I am a boy playing a game?”

“I do, actually. You’re using me to avoid your real responsibilities.”

“You are the only thing I’ve ever cared about besides horses! You are my responsibility! So do not toy with me, because I am not a toy.”

His passion shook me, and I was torn between running away and clawing off his clothes to screw him senseless on the floor of the Louvre. But I did neither. “I’m not used to you being serious, Vale.”

“Perhaps I hide my true intentions behind jests because in truth, bébé, the way I feel about you terrifies me. But you don’t wish to hear that.” He pulled out a pocket watch and checked the time. “But for now, let me return you to your giant, lonely bed, as I know you have . . . business tomorrow.”

I snorted. “Oh, so you get to sleep with all the girls at Paradis, but if I don’t fall at your feet and do whatever you say, you get to call me a whore? That’s fair.”

Vale’s jaw dropped, and I’d never seen him look so caught out. “Bébé, no. That’s not what I—”

I put up a hand. “That’s exactly what you meant. You imply it almost every day. And I’ve never slept with any of them, never even kissed them. So let me do my job, and I’ll let you do yours. Which way is the bathroom with the ladder?”

Giving me a long, charged, measuring look, he pointed down the hall. “I might hide behind humor, but you, ma chère, hide behind cruelty.”

I started walking with my back as straight as a curtain rod, and he followed. We didn’t talk all the way through the Louvre, which had lost its midnight luster for me. Down through the hole in the floor, we were silent. Tromping through the sewers, we didn’t say a word.

And I hated it. God, how I hated it. But he hadn’t apologized. And he needed to.

Conveyances were scarce, but at least the one we finally landed had more room in it, which meant we weren’t forced to touch. The air was too thick with resentment for words, anyway. Still, he insisted on seeing me to the back door of Paradis.

“Thanks for a shitty date in a sewer,” I said.

“And thank you for ruining a lovely experience in a romantic museum.”

We stared at each other, breathing audibly through our noses.

“Weren’t we supposed to go see some shady friend of yours and bleed me out?” I spat.

He shook his head, smiling the saddest little smile. “It was only pretense, bébé. Just an excuse to enjoy your company. I was going to take you out for a stroll. There is no way I would put your blud into another man’s hands. Not now.”

“Well, why didn’t you fucking say so? You romantic idiot!” I stormed upstairs, hating the way my hat was bobbing stupidly and even more the way I felt like a spoiled, silly child.

“Good night, bébé,” I heard just before I slammed my door.