I let myself feel. And it’s good.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A New Craving
“I can feel you watching even when you’re nowhere to be seen,
I can feel you touching even when you’re far away from me.”
—“Voodoo Doll” by 5 Seconds of Summer
We make good time. As we near L.A., I consider going straight to a hotel, but I’m not quite ready to throw us into another awkward situation.
“It’s still early,” I say. “Let’s drive through L.A. or Hollywood.”
Anna agrees, and moments later she squeals, “Oh, my gosh, Kai, look! The Hollywood sign!”
God, her excitement is cute. Every little thing. It’s amazing. And then I replay her words.
“You called me Kai.” It’s the first time, and it feels . . . big. I have no idea where all these pansy-arsed feelings are coming from and how I keep letting them slip in so easily, or why it feels less and less important for me to block them. It’s like I’m rebelling against my own damned self.
“What are your friends like?” Anna asks. She’s turned toward me, practically bouncing in her seat to learn more about me and the people in my life. My vision darkens at the reminder that my friends are Neph. I am Neph, and Anna is Neph. I cannot forget that, no matter how far removed I might feel from that life at this particular moment.
So, I decide to be honest about each of them—Blake, the son of the Duke of Envy, Marna and Ginger, the daughters of the Duke of Adultery—they work, just like me. They understand this life.
I can see from Anna’s frown that my explanations disturb her and her ideas of right and wrong and justice, but she needs to know.
And then there’s Kopano, son of the Duke of Wrath. He is more difficult to explain. My feelings toward him are a tightly wound bundle of admiration and jealousy.
Kope was trained at eleven and worked several years until having an extreme change of heart. As a young teen he defied his father and refused to work any longer. With anyone else, this would have resulted in death, but Duke Alocer turns a blind eye to his son’s defiance. None of the Dukes know about Kopano’s resistance of his wrathful nature. Only our small group knows.
To make matters more insane, Kopano not only suffers from the sin of wrath, but he’s also inflicted with the sin of lust, which his father promoted hundreds of years ago before my father was brought to earth to take some of the load. I am the only Neph who knows this, because I figured it out on my own. How he fights against two urges is beyond me.
To be honest, I’d prefer to never be around Kope, because his presence is maddening. So bloody noble he makes me ill. I try to keep my voice even as I tell Anna about Kope. I’m careful to leave out the lust part.
Anna is watching me too carefully as I explain Kopano’s situation, and I wonder if I’ve sparked too much interest in him. The two of them would make the perfect saintly Neph pair, a thought that sends a burn through my chest. I wait for Anna to say something like, “If he can go against his nature, why can’t you?” or some shite that will send me off the deep end again. It’s just not that simple.
“Kope is a mystery,” I quickly say with finality.
I’m relieved when she lets it drop.
A lot of lust lives in Hollywood, along with every other sin. Some areas of the city are a cesspool of funk and desperation. An ugly part of me stirs when I think about diving headfirst into what’s being offered, but I shake the dark thought away, afraid Anna will be able to sense it. Then I look over and see that she’s pressed back into her seat, her forehead tense.
Oh, no. Is she feeling all of this? The thought that Anna, with all her positive energy, is taking in all the negativity given off by these people makes me want to roll over all of these convertibles and get her the hell out of here. I have no idea where this protective instinct has come from, but I can’t control it.
“Is it too much for you here?” I ask.
“It’s hard,” she admits. “But not because it’s Hollywood. Even Atlanta is hard for me sometimes.”
She’s downplaying it.
“I’ll get us out of here,” I say. When we stop at a light, I scroll through my mobile’s GPS for the best side street to get us off the main road.
I hear a click and zip and look over to see Anna opening her wallet. What the? Tell me she’s not giving money to one of those celebrity home tour scammers. I peer over and see who she’s staring at. An old, homeless woman.
Don’t, I think to myself. That kind of giving act makes blokes like me squirm with discomfort. It’s too much.
“You’re wasting your money,” I say. The woman’s probably a drunk or something.
“Maybe,” Anna whispers. “Maybe not.”
I hold my breath and watch in awe as Anna rolls down the window and the woman makes her way to the car. The way they stare at each other sends a chill down my spine.
“God bless you,” the woman says to Anna as she takes the money. Her aura is clear and grateful, which means she’s not high or drunk, as I’d suspected. Before she can turn to leave, Anna is opening her purse and dumping out all of the money into the woman’s hands.
I’m an outsider watching their intimate exchange, but I can’t look away. I’ve never seen anything like this happen between two strangers. Complete openness. Selflessness. Thankfulness.
I feel strange. The woman walks away and Anna rolls her window up. She seems at peace for a moment, and then she looks back down at her wallet and her face falls.