The one I’m staying in.
She’d find another way to deal with Daniel—talk to Muriel or one of the lupine-clan or even Nyx if necessary. She had found a limitation she wasn’t going to test.
I can’t keep stalking him.
She crossed back over the campus, smiling at the green spaces. Even those were in order. The paths were angled. The layout was defined and orderly. Sure, there were people who weren’t walking down those paths, but they were following other guidelines. They wore their school colors or their Greek letters on their clothes. They defied grouping by assigning themselves another group. It gave form to the world. It was not-chaos.
She drove past Durham, not wanting to stop by Duke’s library when she was feeling so tentative. Step two. Choosing. The Perkins Library building was gorgeous, and the order she craved was more obvious inside, but walking through the stacks made her feel predatory. But I will not hunt. Good mortals, smart humans, didn’t stalk and attack. Knowing what she could be wasn’t always reason enough to resist. She wanted it to be, but it wasn’t.
For that, she needed her routines, her tried-and-true tactics. She hadn’t needed to work this hard in years. She left the library and drove to Raleigh.
NCSU was twisted among the city; the campus twisted between houses and restaurants and stores. University buildings nestled around tattoo parlors and coffee shops and convenience stores. Students and professors ate next to construction workers and strangers. Everyone is welcome here. Sure, there were those that wore letters and insignias, but those who didn’t could still blend. It was a feeling more than a quantifiable element, and the feeling was one that soothed her unease. Here, she could restructure herself. Here, she could create the order that kept her anchored to the world that she had chosen.
As she walked across the brickyard, she felt herself settling. Maybe it was the routine; maybe it was the familiarity. It didn’t matter, not really.
She went inside D. H. Hill Library and went up to the second floor. She walked through the east wing and then the west wing. She went to the study carrels. She stroked shelves and paused at water fountains. It was all about the anchors. It was all about order.
“What in the hell are you doing?” Cillian was behind her; her new temptation was right there in reach.
“Nothing.”
“Really? So why were you at Brennan’s warehouse the other morning? Why are you here tonight? Brennan’s a factor somewhere here, Eavan. I just don’t know how.”
Eavan bowed her head. If Cillian knew about Daniel, Nyx would know, too. Unless she already does. “How did you know where I went?”
“GPS.”
“Did you install it?” she asked, although she was pretty sure she knew the answer.
“No,” Cillian admitted. “They were preinstalled.”
Eavan paused. “They?”
She’d really thought that the car was tracker-free. Her mechanic hadn’t removed anything the last time. He’d pronounced her car “clean.” He’d lied.
“Your car, phone, the red jacket…”
Eavan schooled her face as she turned and said, “Shh.”
“What are you doing?” Cillian repeated, softer this time in deference to their location.
For a heartbeat, she considered telling him, giving him the answers she’d never spoken to anyone. Instead, she said, “Walking.”
“Walking. Driving. Going in and out of libraries. Aimlessly pacing sidewalks…” He stepped closer, moving into her personal space as if such a thing was acceptable “At least you don’t have a pattern. I can’t imagine how your potential stalker could—”
“That is my pattern, Mr. Owens.” She spoke evenly, forcing emotion to stay in check. She’d need to be more careful; she’d need to figure out how to cope with the cage that was tightening around her—but not now, not when she was still feeling unsettled. She stared at Cillian and said, “I drive. I walk. It’s how I make the world make sense.”
“Well, next time, you’ll take me with you.” Cillian looked frazzled. “You drive like you’re invulnerable. I thought you were going to get killed coming off the interchange.”
She didn’t have the heart to ask which interchange. She didn’t recall parts of the drive. It was the anchors—red brick, cold metal shelf—that mattered. That was the world.
“I’m going home,” she told him.
“Please, Eavan, I need you to try to cooperate.” Cillian’s expression was about as frayed as her emotions had been. “Even if you don’t think you’re in danger, Nyx does. Slipping away from me puts us both in danger.”
“I’m going home,” she repeated. “I needed air. Now, I need sleep.”
For a moment, she thought Cillian was going to say more, but instead he nodded. “I’m driving. The car will stay here.”
And Eavan was too shaky to fight him. She didn’t hand over the keys, but she did walk quietly to his car with him.
7
Eavan stayed in her apartment for the next three days. She’d called and quit her job without notice; being around mortals right now was untenable. Of course, being around Others wasn’t a good idea, either. Nyx had been tracking her; the older glaistig knew something was going on. Eavan couldn’t risk going out, couldn’t face talking to Nyx, and couldn’t be sure she had the resolve to resist killing Daniel. She was trapped by her own biology. Her inability to deal with hunting Daniel was wearing on her. Cillian’s kindness only made matters worse. Being trapped with him, a temptation always in reach, was slowly wearing away whatever control she still had left.
“I called the grocery to deliver food. Your kitchen was barren.” He stood in her doorway, not crossing the threshold, but clearly expecting her to let him in. “Eavan?”
She blinked at him, aware that she’d been staring. He had the loveliest green flecks in his eyes. And kissable lips…
She turned sharply and walked away. “I was fine with takeout.”
She ordered; he accepted the delivery in the hall, and once the delivery people left, he knocked on her door. Not that he needed to knock. She was watching through the peephole every time.
“Groceries are being delivered here. Just go in the bedroom when they arrive and—”
“I’m not in danger from delivery guys,” she snapped. Being housebound was not getting easier. Knowing it was self-imposed wasn’t helping, either. “I’m not in danger from any…” She started coughing. The words weren’t ones she could force out: they were a lie.
He stepped closer. “Why are you—”
“Fuck it,” she muttered.
And then she pinned him to the wall.
It wasn’t her first kiss; it wasn’t even the first time she’d lost control this badly. She had a leg hitched around him, pressing herself against his responding body, trying not to grind against him—and failing. He’d wrapped an arm around her, supporting her weight. A gentleman even now…
With decided effort, she pulled back. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Eavan?” Cillian looked stunned.
“I’m sorry.” She backed up, bumping into a small bookshelf in the process, sending paperbacks crashing to the floor.
He reached out to touch her face. “It’s okay. You’re under pressure and…it’s okay.”
Eavan ran to her bedroom while Cillian let the delivery guy into the apartment. She could hear his muffled voice, like a siren’s song in her safe harbor. She stood with one hand palm-flat on the bedroom door and the other on the knob. Hunting Daniel had made both hungers all-consuming. For the first time in years, Eavan wasn’t sure she could stop herself from losing control of at least one appetite. Sex is safer. She hadn’t killed anyone; she could bring Cillian to her bed. It was safe.