Jonas~~

I'm in what would have been Iris's shower had I not switched rooms with her when I hear the bedroom door open. After Alix stressed we'd be in separate rooms, Iris asked to switch with me.

I'd hoped he wouldn't show up until after I was out of the shower. I'd prayed he wouldn't show up at all.

Shutting off the shower, I grab the towel draped over the rail at the end of the shower and dry off with it before wrapping it around my waist. I step out of the shower's alcove and onto the heated tile.

Perched on the sink counter, Iris lets her eyes linger at my towel line. In her lap are my clothes.

"Mademoiselle?" Alix calls from the other side of the bathroom door. My stomach tightens painfully with the confirmation it's him in the bedroom. We've been friends since birth. How could he try to sleep with her?

Iris gives me a smile so tantalizing I feel the urge to kiss her. Kissing would make for a very fine distraction. She drags her finger across her lips in a vow of silence.

I move toward her, my hand outstretched for my clothes. She thrusts them behind her back and shakes her head.

I tilt my head to the side, eyes narrowing. Maybe she does belong in the Society. I didn't know she could be this devious.

Maybe she wants to show me off to Alix. That's ridiculous. Two years ago, he was voted the most attractive royal by an international women's magazine. No one in the Society was included. Eli, my Epsilon, still swears it was a deliberate snub.

Iris, I mouth.

She flicks the faucet on.

"You wouldn't," I whisper.

Her expression seems to say try me as she brings my clothes close to the stream of water. I'm limited on clothes while in France, and these are the only ones I have in this bathroom.

I reach for them, and she brings them closer to the water.

I draw back and make sure my towel is fastened securely. "You'll pay for this."

I can't wait, she mouths. I want to stay in here with her and have her yell at Alix to get the hell out, but I need to confront him. Perhaps he's merely bringing her a friendly cup of chamomile tea to help her sleep, and then he'll be a proper wingman and sing my praises to her.

Wishful thinking won't change the truth.

I know that.

He isn't here as a friend.

I open the door, stepping out into the bedroom. The sight I'm presented with shocks me so entirely that I nearly forget to shut the bathroom door to keep Iris hidden.

Alix lounges on the bed, his arm propped up on a silk throw pillow. His thin robe is untied and has slipped down his stomach, showcasing his tanned abs. He wears a pair of lounge pants so at least he wasn't waiting stark naked for my fiancée.

Seeing me, his eyes widen, and he hastily fumbles with his robe to pull it closed, clutching it together in one of his hands. "Jonas?"

"Alix." I cross my arms and then realize that may not be the best idea if my towel suddenly decides to drop.

"I—I can explain," he says in French, sitting up.

"Can you?" I respond in his language. "Because you're in my fiancée's bed, and I know we locked the door."

He slips his legs over the edge of the bed and stands. "It's my palace. I have access to all rooms."

"When has a locked door ever been an invitation?"

His eyes narrow, and I match his gaze. "Did I misunderstand your fiancée's intentions?" he asks.

"Completely." I want to strangle him, but I'm being held back by two things: my towel and the fact we need to work together to defeat the Amoris. The two aren't equal reasons. Clearly. I've spent my life building a reputation of being calm and collected. I'm the peacemaker. Colton's the firecracker. Not me. The sorrow and betrayal Alix has caused roils inside of me and threatens to escape and damn the consequences to hell. I don't want to kill him. I want to watch him suffer.

I stalk toward him until we're inches apart. Alix holds his ground, our eyes level with each other. Alix had his growth spurt before me, and until I caught up with him, he teased me about it incessantly. He shut up when I almost passed him.

"Tell me, Alix, what were you planning to do with her?"

His mouth flails for a response.

I tilt my heard and size him up. "Were you going to entice her into bed with pretty words? Would you have kept lying on the bed and expected she come to you?"

"Jonas, we shouldn't talk about this."

I hold up a finger to my lips. "No, no, no," I say quick and staccato. "I want to hear, Alix. We are friends, right? We share everything."

He turns his head and looks down. His throat bobs. "I was going to go to her. I was going to push her hair to the side and kiss her shoulder."

"Go on."

"Jonas—"

"Go on."

He closes his eyes as mine drill into him.

"I would have let her robe fall, and then I'd take her by the hand and lead her to the bed."

I don't hesitate any longer in wrapping my hands around his throat. His hands come up trying to pry mine away, but I squeeze, and his fingers have no hope of slipping between my hands and his neck. "And then would you have done this?"

"Jonas," he wheezes.

"What? Don't like how it feels? I'm sure Vienna didn't like it either."

He manages a glare through squinted watery eyes. Not terribly fearsome.

"Don't you dare hurt another woman again. If you had done this to Iris, I wouldn't have cared who you were. You would have been nothing to me, and I would have made you beg for death, and I'm quite good at keeping someone alive." I squeeze harder. His face reddens. "Do you understand me?"

He accomplishes a nod, and I release him. He falls to the ground.

"You're not getting Vienna or Iris."

Gasping, he reaches for his throat. "You need me."

"And you need me." I step back, wanting to adjust some article of clothing, like a cuff or my collar, but I settle for my towel. "Now get out. You have bigger problems to worry about than trying to seduce your former friend's fiancée."

He pulls himself to his feet. "Let us forget tonight."

"I don't think we should."

He gives me a forlorn look before he closes the door behind him, and the bathroom door opens. Iris wraps her arms around me, her face pressing into my back.

"I'm sorry about him," she murmurs, and for a moment it's odd to hear English again.

"He was my friend."

Her cheek feels warm against my back. "I knew what he was doing, but I didn't think I was leading him on. If this is in anyway my fault, I'm—"

"This is on Alix." There's a lump in my throat. "He's always been a flirt. This time he took things too far. Never, ever, think you caused this."

"What do you need?"

"Can you just sit with me?"

With her palm she rubs circles into my back. "Of course." Her hand pauses. "I feel obligated to tell you though that your towel is about to fall."

"Are my clothes dry?"

I feel her lips spread into a smile against my skin. "Yes," she says.

"I love you. Always. No matter what."

She tightens her hold on me. "Moleve qui soleil cie." I love you too.

My heart fills with warmth pushing out the rest of my rage. "Sotee qui boleesh soleil abree." I am never letting you go. "Tornair qui." I promise.

******

When I exit the bathroom, now clothed, Iris is sitting in the middle of the bed, her legs crisscrossed. She holds my phone in her hands, her expression glum. I crawl beside her, nudging her with my shoulder.

"No one answered?"

She sucks in her bottom lip, shaking her head slightly. "That's to be expected. I just hoped someone had turned their phone on so I could tell them about the deal." She passes me my phone.

"If something was wrong, they'd call. It's a good thing you can't get ahold of them."

She falls back into the pillows at the head of the bed. "What do you think is happening to Bently right now?" That's not a topic I want to think about. I'm sure he's bruised and bloody. Suffering, while thinking we won't come for him.

I place my hand on top of her thigh and give it a squeeze. "Thinking about him like that will only make you feel worse."

She threads her fingers across her lap. "I feel like I'm not thinking of him enough."

I lie down beside her, propping myself up on my elbow and rest my hand over hers. "He wouldn't want you to tear yourself up thinking of him like that."

"It's Bently we're talking about. Of course, he would."

Sighing, I relax the arm I've been holding myself up with and sink into the pillows. "You're too good for all of us."

"I just care about my friends."
"That was when you were supposed to say something cheesy like how we're perfect for each other."

That earns me a delicate laugh before her face softens. "I love you so so much. I don't know how everything's going to turn out with the Amoris. You and me . . . we could . . ."

"You're not going to lose me."

"We're Expired." Rolling onto her side, she faces me. "A part of me wants us to get on the next plane out of France, so no, Jonas, I'm not too good for the Society." She's not the only one who wants that. We could go anywhere. See the world. Start a new life—one where we're both normal. Well, I'd be normal minus the alien blood. Iris is anything but normal though, and it's something for which I love her.

I'm well aware of the risks of us staying. We're mortal while my brother and cousins are practically immortal.

"But you wouldn't do that," I say. "You care too much." And I suppose I care too much as well.

She buries her head in my chest, and I drape my arm over her.

"We're going to have a future," I promise. "I'll make sure of it."

If you have any questions about Andrew (his past, what it was like growing up for him in the Society, his life in France, etc. . .) feel free to ask them here!