Page 124 of Brutal Birthright

“… She’s gone through enough shit putting up with you; the girl deserves something romantic.” Brigid continued, resolutely ignoring him.

Oriana deserved the stars and the moon, of course. But he wasn’t about to say that out loud for Brigid to delight in.

So, instead, he grunted and kicked a rock on the ground.

“You have to show her through your actions, no?” Brigid’s grin was growing wider by the minute. “If you don’t want to lose her, how far will you go to show her what she means to you?”

Rowan stiffened and turned his attention to Brigid with a snarl. “Who said anything about fucking losing her?”

He didn’t trust his sister’s tendency for riddles and mind games. Especially not when it came to his girl.

“Keep your sword sheathed.” Her eyebrows waggled at him, and those blue eyes danced with glee at his obvious discomfort. “I’m just saying that unless you choose her, what’s to say she will stick around? That little warrior has big dreams, and where do you think you fit into those my surly brother dearest?”

Fuck. She did have grand dreams for her life. A vision that she wanted to achieve. There was no denying that her thirty-odd winters paled in comparison to his jaded and weary three centuries of existence, but she was a constant reminder that he hadn’t really lived in all that time.

That was all it had been for him. An existence.

Not a life.

Or certainly not one that he wanted to spend time reminiscing on.

Being with her allowed him to see everything in vivid, sparkling detail that he’d been blinded to until now.

Oriana had to be a fool if she didn’t follow where her heart took her, and was that really going to be allowing herself to be kept away with him? Living in his solitary godsdamned existence amongst the forest, sealed off behind a fortress of blood wards?

Would she be happy living that kind of life? Would it be enough for someone as vibrant as her?

She had a sister, a family, and friends. What did Rowan have other than a loathing of anyone and anything that threatened to spoil his peace?

Except for her, of course.

“So is that a yes? You’re ready to learn how to put a voice to those feelings battering around inside your ribcage after all these centuries?”

“Fuck you.”

“Aww… it really is sweet seeing you finally meet the one person who might tolerate you for an eternal lifetime.”

Rowan sank down on his haunches.

“That’s the exact problem.” He stabbed his hands into his hair. Fuck’s sake. How was he even contemplating having this conversation with Brigid of all the godsdamned beings to exist?

“What is?” She knew. But his sister was a master in the art of pretending not to know.

“How to rationalise this kind of life. This kind of power.” He stared down at his hands. “Knowing exactly how to take a life? Being the dispenser of moral justice time and time and time again at the tip of my blade while the Goddesses look on from wherever the fuck they are.”

He could almost see the lingering stains. All the centuries of blood his hands had been drenched in.

War had seeped into his very bones.

But what was he to do now that he no longer wanted that to be the marrow of his existence?

“I didn’t have a choice in this,” Rowan growled. Pissed off didn’t begin to explain how he felt at the knowledge that he could never change who he had been destined to be.

“Oriana has spent her life recording the moments when she chose peace over violence. Whereas I have brought nothing but a trail of death and destruction with me wherever I am called to go.”

Brigid stared back at him with a small smile on her face and knowing in her eyes, but she still didn’t say a word.

“The only time I truly feel at peace is with her, Bri. How do I ask her to be my shelter from the storm when I’m the fucking violence raining down from the sky?”

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