Juliet Immortal

rather not spend any more time with me.
    I tug open the dressing room door but almost immediately close it again, letting it ease shut but for the barest inch. Someone is inside. The light is on, and I caught a flash of movement in the corner. I have no idea who—or what—is in there, but I don’t want to be seen. My meeting with Romeo will have to be relocated.
    Unless Romeo has already arrived …
    I peek through the crack in the door, angling my head until I can see the far corner of the room and the sink where I wash up after painting. His back is turned, his shoulders hunched as he scrubs something clean in the sink, but I recognize Ben the second I lay eyes on him. My gaze roams over his wild hair, the strong line of his back, his narrow hips hugged by paint-spattered jeans. My heart lurches and my mouth goes dry.
    There he is, the boy I love, his aura still rosy, but not red.
    Just looking at him makes my fingers ache to touch his face, to curl around his neck, to pull his lips to mine and tell him all my secrets in a kiss. I want to feel his arms around me, the comfort of his bones resting against mine. I want to look into his eyes and see that there is nothing in the world but the two of us and that is enough. That is … everything.
    Everything
. Just like Romeo was before that last night, before he pulled me from the nightmare of my living tomb only to plunge a knife through the heart he’d sworn to treasure.
    I shiver, fear soaking through my wet skin, chilling my core.
    How can I
think
of loving someone again? How have I let this happen? Even if it weren’t forbidden, haven’t I learned my lesson? Haven’t I learned that love can’t be trusted, especially love like mine, love that burns away every last bit of sense in the fire of its devotion?
    You can trust me
. Ben’s words whisper through my mind. Maybe I can. Maybe I can trust Ben—even if I can’t trust love—but it doesn’t matter. Ben can never,
ever
be mine.
    My throat squeezes tight and the backs of my eyes flare with sudden heat. I step away, pulling the door softly closed as I go. I turn and creep through the near-darkness, the faint flare of crimson in the air a condemnation of my weakness, a confirmation of my sin-filled soul. I don’t deserve Ben’s trust or friendship. I am truly awful. I’ve put him and Gemma in unforgivable danger. I have to fix my mistake; I have to make his aura burn or spend eternity with guilt pressing down all around me.
    I’m so focused on my shame, my regret, that I don’t realize I’m not alone until fingers clutch my arm, pulling me intothe narrow space between the curtains. Romeo’s hand comes down on my mouth, stifling the scream that would have slipped from my lips.
    “Shh,” he hisses. “He could find us any second.” His face is far too close to mine, his breath hot in my ear. I catch the faint hint of something heady, metallic, something that reminds me of aged meat, but it isn’t something Romeo has eaten. The smell is coming from beneath his clothes, his flesh a steak that’s starting to spoil.
    Forcing myself not to gag, I nod and turn my head, twisting from his grasp. I take a step back, breathing through my mouth, staring up into Romeo’s wide eyes. In the dim light they are great black circles, his pupils a disease that’s beginning to spread.
    He is … 
not right
, even more so than usual. I have to get him out of here. I don’t want him anywhere near Ben in this condition—or any condition. My lips part, but he stops me with a trembling hand.
    “There isn’t time,” he says, voice strained.
    “But I—”
    “He’s here. The one who made me. That’s why there aren’t any other Mercenaries in this town. They don’t linger when one of the high ones comes for a visit. He’s been hiding his aura from me with magic, but I saw it last night. I’m sure I did, and I think he knows.” He grips my arms, fingers squeezing, pressing the cold, wet fabric tight to my skin. “He’s watching, waiting for me to turn one of these children, ready to force me to kill you a second time and finally advance through the Mercenary ranks.”
    “Who? How do you—”
    “We can still escape, but time is short,” he says, oddlybreathless, as if he’s just finished running a great distance. “Soon our chance will have passed us by. We have to work the spell before it’s too late.”
    I shake my head. “I don’t—”
    “You can love me. You did before, you can again.”