I jolted awake only a while later, feeling overheated, and with sweat making my hair stick to my forehead. The bodies on the floor of the funeral parlor still flashed in front of my eyes and I squeezed them shut, trying to push it from my mind. It didn't help much. Once I was able to dispel that image, the image of my father's body lying on the academy's polished floor replaced it. Nausea settled in my stomach as my nose suddenly caught the acidic scent of spent gunpowder. It came on quickly and overwhelmingly. I felt like I could hear Kaz's steps walking toward me, toward the illusion of my father's body.

I gripped my hair, closing my eyes again, willing the image away, tucking my chin toward my neck. "Stop it. Stop it."

The smell only worsened. I could hear vague, muffled voices. Claude? Kieran? I felt paralyzed as the steps came closer, coming to a stop. I could feel my father's eyes on me, cold, but pleading.

"No!" I cried to myself slamming my palms into my head. "Just stop!"

Whether the pain startled me enough to end the vision, or my brain finally decided to cut me some slack, I managed to bring myself back to reality, surveying the now empty floor of my bedroom. Just plain, wooden floors. No blood caking them.

The faint smell of gunpowder remained though, setting me on edge. I sniffed the air and realized it was coming from my dress and remembered one of the vampires had set his gun off near me. The scent must have settled into the fabric.

I pushed myself off the bed, my legs feeling weak, and attempted to reach the zipper on the back of my dress to no avail. I would need help with it. I headed to the door, hoping someone was waiting outside it. Nadir, Adora, Claude. I didn't care at this point. I just wanted the dress off.

As I reached the door, I realized it was already open a crack. It made me pause for a moment, a little annoyed. They didn't even trust me enough to leave me alone to sleep? Had someone been watching me? The irritation didn't compare to the illness I felt at the smell of my dress, so I shoved it inside, moving to open the door.

"When are we going to tell Cleo?"

I stopped. That was Adora's voice. I held my breath, trying to remain still and silent.

"She's still recovering... we shouldn't tell her."

San, this time.

"We can't keep lying to her."

"We need to get her to trust us again first."

My stomach rolled. What were they talking about? They were lying to me about something? About what?

"I can't lie to her about her father," Adora said, sounding near tears. "It's not right, San. You saw how easily she forgave us."

"I know," San said immediately. "I know, Adora. But you know what Claude said."

"Still—"

"It's important for Cleo to trust us first. We just need to keep doing what we have been. It's working."

I felt like I was being suffocated. What were they saying? Were they trying to trick me again? Was everything they'd said to me up until this point a lie? Why? Did this mean they actually were involved in my father's death? Had they really all betrayed me in such a cruel way? It couldn't be possible. They'd promised—

"You know what happened at the academy had to happen no matter what. She doesn't need to know all the details. Let's just listen to what Kaz says. Cleo's family will die—"

I stumbled back, horrified. "No... No..."

I couldn't believe my ears. I didn't want to. What were they planning? To kill my family, like Kaz said they would? They really planned to get rid of the entire Levant family line? And they were going to lie to me in the process? For what? To have me lead them to my sister? My mother? I would never do that.

Why was this happening? I'd trusted them only to be betrayed, and then decided to give them the benefit of the doubt and trust them again only for this to happen?

My body shook so badly I could barely walk as I staggered back to my bed, a bone-chilling cold coming over me. I grabbed my head again, my fingers pulling hard at my hair, trying to get the pain to ground me. I should have never trusted them again. Why had I believed them so easily? Why did I open myself back up to them again?

I wanted to run. To run and never look back. I wanted to be with my family. I needed to protect them. But I couldn't. My father was dead. I was trapped. I was alone.

I was a prisoner. I would stay here and suffer. I would have to face those who were once my friends continue to lie to me. I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling so cold. I almost wished I hadn't heard them. I could have lived in ignorance. But their secrets would have come out, eventually. All secrets did. Especially ones that resulted in someone's death.

I took a few steps toward the door again. Even if I wanted to run, could I get past San and Adora? Who else was out there? But I didn't want to stay in this room. I didn't want to stay in this dress. I couldn't even ask for help to take it off. I would never ask for help from them again. I grit my teeth together, tears burning behind my eyelids again.

Once again I felt the yearning to be comforted, but there was no one to reach out to. Even Felix had left me behind. I didn't have anyone, yet I didn't want to be alone. I felt like I was going to go insane. I wanted to scream and cry and tear up the room, but I knew that wouldn't change anything. Nothing would. I was on my own. The thought was enough to cancel out all the other feelings raging through me, leaving me full of numbness instead.

I laid back down on my bed, turning my head to stare blankly out the window. For how everyone always told me how awful my father was, I couldn't believe they could do this to me. How was this different? I was still locked up. And how was the emotional pain inflicted different than the physical pain from before?

I shut my eyes, curling up, trying to fend off the piercing chill. Why even bother to think about it? I was used to this. I'd stupidly fallen for their tricks again. It was all my fault, anyway. Maybe this was what I deserved. For being such an idiot. Maybe if I fell asleep, I could just not wake up, and make it once less Levant for them to destroy.

I didn't remember falling asleep, but a soft touch on my forehead woke me up. I jolted up, startled, my heart racing in my chest as I took in my surroundings. No longer was I inside my dream where people were screaming and dying and being shot left and right, but instead, I was in my room at Claude's estate. Beside me, Claude sat on my bed, dark circles under his eyes, watching me quietly. The hair that he had gelled back earlier in the day had now fallen into a mess over his forehead. His suit was rumpled, tie hanging loose around his neck. His neck that had smears of dried blood over it.

"Are you hurt?" I asked groggily without thinking, but reality set in fast, and I immediately regretted it. Claude didn't deserve my concern. But my hand still rose as if to inspect the wound until I pulled it forcibly back down.

"It's not my blood," he assured me.

My heart rate picked up again, my hands clutching at the comforters I'd fallen asleep on. Seeing the blood reminded me of everything that happened at the funeral parlor and how I'd wanted to ask for an update about those at the funeral parlor before I'd heard San and Adora's conversation. I knew I shouldn't even bother talking to Claude— he had to be on their plans. He was the king. But still, I had to know. I had to know who died at the funeral parlor. "Then whose blood is it? Who died? Esin's father? What happened? Tell me—"

Claude took my hands, gently unfurling them from the comforter, and holding them in his own. "No one died, Cleo. We managed to get everyone medical attention in time."

"You're lying to me," I stated coldly. "Just tell me the truth. I need to know. I can handle it."

His hands tightened on me. "I'm not lying."

I wanted to believe his words, but couldn't. My mind wouldn't let me. I couldn't trust Claude. It made the cold feel worse like it was burrowing into my bones. "Where's Nadir?"

Claude's eyebrows pinched together. "Why would you be looking for him?"

"I need to make sure."

Claude's expression fell as he recognized my distrust, and he released my hands, standing up. For a second, I thought I'd made him so mad he was just going to leave, but after a second of searching his pockets, he produced his cell phone. He sat back down on the bed, but this time closer to me so I could see him pull up Nadir's contact. I watched as he hit the call button and then turned the speakerphone on.

Nadir answered on the first ring. "Yes?"

"Are all the funeralgoers still recovering well?" Claude asked. "You're at the hospital still, correct?"

"Yes, everyone is recovering. Only positive progress."

Claude turned to me, regarding me with what felt like irritation. "Satisfied?"

I ignored him, trying to decide if I could believe Nadir. He would be in on everything, too, but would telling me everyone survived when in reality they didn't be beneficial to them in any way? Could I just accept that everyone was actually okay? Even those who were scattered across the floor unconscious? Was it even possible they were okay?

I put those thoughts to a stop. Was I hoping I'd hear someone died? I didn't think there was any reason for Nadir to lie to me about this so I nodded at Claude. The cold feeling still remained, though. I thought I'd feel better, but I didn't.

"Feel free to call me for updates, Cleo," Nadir said.

Nadir addressing me personally caught me off guard, and I nodded again, even though he couldn't see me. If he was offering more updates, maybe he was actually telling the truth. Maybe everyone really was okay. I could put any doubt to rest.

"Is that all, Claude?"

"Yes," Claude said simply. "Thank you, Nadir."

As Claude hung up and tossed his phone aside, I kept waiting for a sense of relief that never came. Too much else had happened. I could be content with knowing no one was grievously injured, but everything else weighed too heavy in my heart. The fear, the vampire's— Keaton's— words, my fight with Felix, Adora, and San's lies. Even Claude being here with me set me on edge.

Claude sucked in a sharp breath of air suddenly and I turned to him just as he brought a hand up to my cheek where I'd been backhanded, brushing this thumb against it softly. "You're injured."

I winced slightly as his thumb touched a sensitive spot and I pushed his hand away. "I'm fine."

"Did you clean it? There's a cut."

"I'm fine," I repeated tensely.

Claude frowned at me. "Cleo. You're still recuperating from your injuries. What if this gets infected? Your body is already fighting off enough."

Why do you care? I wanted to ask. But what was the point? What would I get out of it? Lies? The truth that I wouldn't believe? And beyond that, if I did believe him, what if I was being deceived again?

I'd wanted to talk Claude all this time. I'd had so many questions. And now that he was here, I didn't know what to do. I wouldn't believe his words. I didn't want to see him. I didn't want to talk to him. I didn't want his concern.

I don't want your concern.

My words to Felix echoed in my mind and a painful tightness formed in my throat again. I wished he was here. I was so tired of arguing. I was so tired of crying. I was so tired of hurting. And Claude sitting here just reminded me of it all. He was the catalyst for everything. So how could he just sit here and act as if he cared about me?

"It could end up being dangerous," Claude said quietly. "I don't want to see you hurt anymore."

"I hope it does get infected," I said, whipping my head around to face him, barely able to see through the sudden rage I felt. "I hope I just die so everyone can be happy with knowing they've killed off the entire Levant family! Then there will be a grave for Felix to lay flowers on and I wouldn't have to feel like this! Do whatever you want and I'll do whatever I want! Even if it's dying."

Claude abruptly stood up again, his features turning into marble, his nostrils flaring. "Get up, Cleo."

I remained where I was, ignoring him, trying to stop my trembling. I didn't have to listen to him. I wouldn't again.

"If you already hate me, then I suppose it doesn't matter what I do."

Hate? The term rattled me. I—

A firm grip on my upper arm dragged me out of my bed. I barely caught myself, trying to get my footing as Claude began to haul me across the room. I struggled in his hold, trying to get him to release me. "What are you doing? Let me go!"

He kicked open the door to my bathroom and pulled me inside, slamming the door behind him. When he released me, I moved for the door, but he immediately put himself between me and it, blocking my way. I stopped, glaring at him as I watched him lock the door.

"What are you doing?" I repeated.

He returned my glare with an even look as he approached me again. "Doing whatever I want."

I fell back as he approached until my back hit the furthest wall of the bathroom, right next to the medicine cabinet. Claude followed my every step, so close, that as I bumped up against the cold tile wall, his chest nearly met mine. My breath caught in my throat as he brought his hand to my face again, holding my jaw far more gently than I expected given his intimidating actions. "Claude—"

His eyes narrowed at the cut on my cheek. "I suppose whoever hurt you forgot it's a crime to touch royalty."

"I'm not royalty."

His golden gaze pierced into mine. "In my eyes, you are. And my word is the law."

I swallowed hard as Claude released my jaw, but didn't back away. He leaned over toward the medicine cabinet, opening it, and taking out the supplies Nadir or Sura usually used to clean my other wounds. I tried not to breathe hard, wanting to keep as much space between Claude and myself as possible, even though there wasn't that much to begin with.

Even with little to no space, Claude somehow managed to get the supplies he needed ready, and as he pressed a wet cotton ball to my cheek to clean up the dried blood, I closed my eyes, attempting to ignore him.

But I soon found it was impossible to ignore his overwhelming body heat, the faint scent of his cologne, the soft, balmy puffs of his breath on my skin. Every brush of his fingertips sent shivers down my spine. He was so gentle. A gentleness I craved and found hard not to focus on at the moment, despite my earlier thoughts of not wanting his concern.

I didn't understand myself. I didn't want Claude near me, but I did want him near me. I didn't want to fight with Felix, but I did fight with him. I didn't want San and Adora to betray me again, but I also wanted to forgive them again. Here, with Claude being so gentle, it reminded me of how things used to be— back at the academy, before all this happened. When I thought everyone was my friend and that we'd do anything for each other.

I didn't want to suffer anymore, but I did want myself to suffer. So many people suffered because of me. Would my suffering make up for everyone else's suffering? Would my pain? Was it not enough to lose my father, the one who caused everyone else's pain and suffering? Should I suffer more? But why did I think I had to?

When I opened my eyes again, I realized Claude had finished cleaning my cut, but he hadn't moved away. He remained where he was, hand on my cheek, gazing at me with an indecipherable expression. I didn't move, either, staring right back at him.

"Please," he started, his voice rough with emotion, "don't ever speak of dying so lightly again, Cleo."

My fingers ached as if I wanted to reach out and touch him, to reassure him. "Why do you care?" I said instead, wetting my dry lips unthinkingly.

His gaze dropped to my lips momentarily, his own parting slightly. He stepped closer to me, pressing into me, his arms on either side of, imprisoning me completely. His head dipped down, and I froze, my head getting hazy, but I didn't turn away. But instead of kissing me as I thought he would, his face went into the crook of my neck, his lips ghosting the skin there. I shivered as he took a deep breath, breathing me in.

I tried to calm my heart, afraid he'd hear my pulse through my skin with how hard it rushed through my ears. He moved, his lips and nose ghosting a trail on my skin as he raised his head so our eyes could meet again, but level this time, his nose nearly brushing mine, his lips so close, close enough where if I just moved a fraction of an inch forward...

"What can I do for you to trust me again?" Claude whispered, his body unmoving, eyes wanting.

I was almost afraid to speak, his lips were so close, but I found my voice. "N-nothing." I needed to push him away. I couldn't let him close to me again. I couldn't trust him.

"I care about you, Cleo. Thoroughly and furiously. I know I have hurt you, and I've done so much wrong, but I still care for you. I will prove it to you over and over. Again and again, until you're satisfied. Or until you tell me to leave. Which would you prefer?"

It was hard to focus. He was too close. While his tone didn't betray the vulnerability in his words, his eyes did. Pleading, desperate, but also so filled with a hunger I couldn't place. I fought to deny his words— he didn't care about me, I know he didn't— but I had my own desperation at this moment. To be cared for. To be comforted. To be with someone. Even if it was Claude... Everything felt cold lately, but he stood firm and warm in front of me. It was so hard to fight. I just didn't want to feel like this. At least for a little bit.

"Prove it," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Claude leaned into me, closing the barely-there distance between us, meeting my lips in a soft, hesitant kiss. My eyes closed as he tilted his head to the side, giving me another ghost of a kiss before he pulled back again. I opened my eyes to find him observing me again, eyes dark, and swirling with conflicted motions. I wondered if mine looked the same.

A part of me knew I shouldn't do this. But the other part, the desperate part, just didn't care.

I snaked one of my hands around his waist, the other reaching up to entangle itself in the hair on the back of his head, pulling his lips back to mine. I kissed him, shoving our lips together so hard it hurt. I clutched Claude's body to mine and a second later his strong arms wrapped around me, holding me so tightly I found it hard to breathe. I licked at Claude's lips, getting him to open them, and slotting our mouths together so our tongues could meet.

A soft sigh came from Claude's parted lips as we broke to breathe, making my pulse quicken, and the desire build. I tried to go back in for another kiss, but Claude suddenly lifted me up by the waist. Startled, I wrapped my arms around his neck, and my legs around his waist. "Not in here," he murmured, carrying me toward the bathroom door.

He made quick work of the lock and shut the door again. I expected him to carry me to one of the couches or the bed, but instead, he pressed me up against the closed door, holding me in place, my legs still wrapped around his waist. He pushed in closer, his hands gripping the back of my upper thighs to keep me in place. His touch felt hot and I reveled in it, letting it melt away the ice that coated my skin.

A second later, his lips were back on mine, but this time slower, and more drawn out. His teeth scraped lightly against my bottom lip and I let out a sigh. Claude's grip on my thighs tightened even more and I wondered if my sigh affected him like his affected me. His kiss becomes deeper, stealing my breath, the heat of his mouth making my mind cloudy again, the press of his tongue against mine overtaking me.

I dug my nails into Claude's back, trying to get him closer, wanting that warmth to take over me. He moaned into my mouth as I writhed under his grip, needing to close the little bit of distance between us. The sound warmed my body as well. I wanted to hear more.

Without warning, he pulled me away from the door, moving us over to the bed, never breaking the kiss. I moved my hands to his hair, tangling my fingers into his dark locks. He tossed me onto the bed and I pulled him with me, not registering that I should have let him go first. He let out a small groan of pain, but I covered it with a kiss, freeing one hand to push down on his back, wanting his body to cover mine.

His body crushed mine and he laid completely on top of me, his forearms on either side of my head, his hands now curled in my hair as he kissed me hard, our lips moving together easily, just as desperately. The combined weight of his body and the kiss made it impossible to breathe, but I thrived in the feeling. My skin was warm all over.

I slipped a hand under his shirt, realizing how hot his skin felt. So much hotter than what heat made it through his shirt. I pulled away from Claude, pushing him up. He adjust himself so he straddled my waist, giving me space, his breathing labored, and pupils were blown as he stared down at me. I reached for the hem of his shirt and started to pull it up. He hesitated for only a moment before gripping the back of his collar and easily pulling it over his head and tossing it to the side.

I pulled him back down to me, pressing my head into his neck as he'd done to me, and inhaled his scent. I understood why he'd done that earlier. It smelled so much of him and was so comfortable. I kissed and nibbled at the skin there causing him to let out another soft noise. His bare skin pressed against my collarbone and what cleavage showed through my dress and I sighed again into his neck before kissing up to his ear.

He pushed back again, hovering over me, his black hair falling into his face as he stared down at me. I reached up for him, pulling him back down for another kiss, not wasting a second. He kept one hand beside my head, holding himself up, and the other went for my waist, covered by my dress. The fabric was so thin, though, that I could feel his fingers trailing against my skin as he dragged them back and forth. I let my hands explore his chest, the prominent bone of his collarbone, the rough point of his nipples, the muscles of his abdomen, the smooth skin above the waistband of his suit pants. He shuddered a bit, his tongue delving into my mouth with new vigor.

It wasn't enough. I wanted to feel more of his heat. I pushed on him once again and he fell back so I could sit up again. I tried reaching for the zipper of my dress, but then remembered it was impossible for me to do on my own. I turned to Claude, taking in his disheveled appearance, his bare chest, his swollen lips. "My dress," I said, pointing at the zipper. "Help me."

As if in a daze, Claude moved forward, reaching behind my back for the zipper. His neck was too close to my neck to resist kissing it again and paused momentarily before quickly pulling the zipper down. As I pulled my arms free of the sleeves, I kept Claude close to me, sucking on his neck.

"Mmm," he murmured and went to push me back down on the bed.

When his hands met my bare shoulders, he suddenly went still. I fell back against the bed expecting him to follow me back down but becoming confused when he didn't. He stared down at me, unmoving, his eyes wide and taken aback. It made me feel self-conscious and I brought an arm over my bra-clad chest. My dress pooled at my waist, keeping me mostly covered. "What?" I asked, my heart skipping a beat.

"This is..." He shook his head, abruptly climbing off me and then the bed entirely. In a quick move, he tossed his discarded shirt over my torso. "Where are your clothes?"

"What's wrong?" I asked, sitting up again, but keeping his shirt pressed to me. My heart rate was starting up again, but not in a good way.

"We shouldn't be doing this," he said roughly, going over to one of the dressers in my room and digging through it. He threw on the first shirt he came across, even though it was clearly too small for him. "You're not... We're not in the right mind for this."

"Claude, I'm fine—"

"I feel like I'm taking advantage of you," he bit out, grabbing a few more articles of clothing before marching back over to me. He tossed them at me. "Get changed."

I refused to move, flustered by his behavior. "Why? I'm okay with this!"

"I'm not," he replied. "I won't go further than this. We need to stop here."

I shivered, feeling unbearably cold without him near me. I shook, clutching his shirt to my chest, my teeth chattering, making no move to put on the clothing he'd given to me.

"You're shaking," Claude stated, eyes crinkling in worry.

"I'm cold."

"Then get dressed," he encouraged softly.

When I didn't move again, he gave a soft huff of breath and sat down on the bed again. He helped me into the sweater he'd picked out for me, but it did little to warm me. When I made no move to put on the pajama pants he pulled the comforter up over me, but I still shook. His mouth formed a flat line as he watched me, putting a hand on my cheek. "You're freezing."

I took his hand from my cheek, pulling it under the comforter with me. "I need your warmth."

"Cleo, something is wrong. I need to call Nadir."

"No! I'm j-just cold. P-please."

A second later I felt him climbing under the comforter with me. I immediately pressed myself against him, this time only with the desire to feel warm again, no other urges. He wrapped his arms around me slowly and prudently. I didn't fight it. "You're not acting like yourself, Cleo. I think we should call Nadir."

"N-no." Why couldn't I stop shaking? Where did this chill come from?

Claude slid himself lower in the bed until we were lying face-to-face. He brought his hand to my forehead, his eyebrows drawn together. "It doesn't feel like you have a fever. What's wrong? You're worrying me."

"What's not wrong? And I don't need you to pretend to care when I—" I stopped as my voice broke and tears sprung to my eyes again. "I don't know. I don't know what's wrong with me," I said as the tears ran down my cheeks. "I'm sad. I'm sad for everyone who lost their family members. I'm sad for myself. I'm scared of the future. I can't trust any of my friends. I don't feel like myself anymore and I'm scared I never will again." Now that the words were coming, they didn't stop. I didn't even know where they came from. "I shouldn't be here. I'm trapped. I just want to do what's best for everyone, but it's never the right thing. Everything is my fault. I killed all those people, I killed my father, Felix hates me because of it. I deserve all this—"

"Hold on, breathe, Cleo," Claude said, his hand moving to my back and then rubbing it in slow, circular motions. "We have time. Speak slowly."

I hiccupped, trying to get my thoughts and tears under control. Was it really okay to confide to Claude about all this? He was the main cause of my issues. So how could I say this all to him? Rely on him for support? "I hate that you're here," I whispered. "I wish you'd leave. But I don't want to be alone."

Claude stilled. "Cleo..."

"What happened to me? Why am I like this? Why did I cause the only person who didn't betray me to hate me?"

"Felix doesn't hate you," Claude assured me, the hand rubbing my back suddenly stopping. "He cares about you... just as I do."

"How can the people who claim to care about me hurt me so much?"

Claude remained silent for a moment. "Because sometimes when you care about someone so much you can inadvertently hurt them."

"I'd never hurt anyone I cared about," I said, the flame of anger licking in the back of my mind again, but a second later it was blown out by that terrible cold as my thoughts circled back to Felix. "But Felix can be so cruel. I try to be understanding, but this time, I..."

After saying it out loud, my eyes began burning again, tears blurring my vision, and I realized that's what had been the catalyst of this episode. Not San and Adora. It was fighting with Felix— the only person I could fully trust. I'd fought with him and now had a chance of losing him. That's where the anxiety came from. Why I couldn't stop shaking. Why that deep cold had settled into me.

I was scared to lose the only person I truly had left.

"Felix has lost a lot during his life," Claude said, his hand now coming to wipe my tears away. "He was taken away from our family, grew up with a different one that he came to truly love, only to have them torn away from him, even murdered in front of him. I'm sure Felix is only scared he'll lose you, too."

"He gets so angry—"

"Everyone has different trauma responses. But that aside, he shouldn't be taking it out on you as he does," Claude responded, now stroking my hair.

I wouldn't admit it, but it felt nice. I took in a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "I know he does it because he's afraid of losing me, but sometimes it's hard."

"Felix is probably still learning how to deal with it. A lot has happened, and he might not have gotten the proper help."

"Help?" I questioned. "Like... a therapist?"

"Yes. And a lot has happened to you, too," Claude spoke, halting his movements for a moment, searching my eyes. "If it becomes hard to handle alone, I can introduce you to my therapist."

The surprise at his suggestion momentarily made me forget everything else. "You have a therapist?" I asked dumbly. It felt like such a foreign concept to me.

"Believe it or not, I, too, have a traumatic past, and stress that is sometimes too much to handle," he replied. "There's nothing wrong with getting support from a trained professional."

The numbness returned. Traumatic past. For me, it seemed I was doomed to suffer through a traumatic past, present, and future. I didn't respond to Claude, considering this.

He sighed lightly, the air tickling the skin on my face. "At least you've stopped shaking."

I hadn't even realized it. The cold was dissipating, being replaced by a comfortable heat. Maybe because I'd realized the root of my anxiety and said it out loud. "Do you think Felix hates me?" I asked in a small voice.

I half expected Claude to make some rude remark about Felix, but he didn't. Instead, he shook his head. "He'd never hate you, Cleo. You two will work this out like you always do. But." Claude's gaze hardened. "He'd better think twice about making you cry like this again."

A question bubbled up in me and I asked it before considering what it might mean to Claude. "Do you ever feel jealous of Felix?"

"Always," Claude answered without hesitation. "Even more so now."

His quick response would have made me blush once upon a time, but not now. "Why?"

"Because now I don't know where we stand."

A rock appeared in my stomach. Where we stood? He was here with me right now, but only because I needed someone. Anyone would have done. I recognized that. I'd given in to my impulses today, but tomorrow would be different. This wouldn't change anything. "We don't stand anywhere."

His shoulders tensed. "We don't have to discuss that now."

"If you're looking for something to discuss, we can start with how you deceived me," I said, but without much force behind my words. My eyelids grew heavy amidst his warmth.

Claude's jaw tightened and he nodded. He adjusted the comforter over me, making sure it covered me entirely. "I'll answer all of your questions. I'll tell you everything. I promise. For now, though, you should rest."

When he tried to get out of the bed, I reached out and stopped him. "Wait. Stay with me."

A flicker of surprise crossed his face. "You want me to stay?"

I pulled him back down. I couldn't lose that warmth yet. "At least until I fall back asleep."

"As long as you want me," he murmured, sliding close to me again. "I'll be here."

"...Thanks," I breathed out, even though I knew I shouldn't have thanked him. I just needed him for a little longer.

"Don't thank me," he replied, and I didn't miss the way his throat bobbed, and the regret in his voice. "I don't deserve that."

I barely caught his last words, already drifting back off to sleep, hoping for a nightmare-less night.

Author's Note:

Well...🧍‍♂️