Page 133 of Necessary Cruelty

Zaya has fallen asleep, exhaustion and emotion robbing her of the ability to stay conscious. I stand there and watch her for a few minutes, marveling at how much younger she looks in sleep.

I still remember the day I met her, the tiny girl with wild hair and a stained dress who never seemed at all intimidated by me. I’d gotten used to other kids cozying up to me because of the Cortland name and fortune, but Zaya had never seemed to care about any of that.

She is still too light in my arms when I pick her up. The weeks I’ve spent trying to fatten her up have only gone so far to overturn a lifetime of never getting enough to eat. I carry her up to one of the guest rooms, because I don’t want to leave Emma alone inside the house.

With Giselle gone, I might not ever sleep in the pool house again.

Zaya feels too good in my arms, like it’s the place she is meant to be. But that’s only because she’s unconscious. Once she wakes up, we’ll go right back to being enemies sighting each other across a battlefield.

Maybe I can lock her in the room until I convince her that there is something real between us.

She’s alive, which means I still have a chance.

Hope threatens to crush my heart into dust as I mount the stairs one by one. The same stairs that had broken Giselle’s neck less than an hour ago. It bothers me a bit that I don’t feel much more than relief at the reminder my stepmother is gone, if just for Emma’s sake.

But the woman got what she deserved. We all do, eventually.

Zaya comes suddenly awake when I lay her down on the bed, kicking and fighting like her life depends on it. Her crazed eyes shift to my face and she immediately stills, staring up at me like I’m some demon who has materialized out of the ether to torment her.

“Vin?” On her lips, my name sounds like a wish. There is so much yearning in the sound that I can barely take it. “Please…”

I kiss her before she can say anything else, fully expecting her to shove me away. She doesn’t just kiss me back, her hands come around my neck and pull with the weight of her entire body until I’m laying over her.

“Please what? Tell me what you want.” I cup her cheeks with my palms, the warmth of her skin seeping into me. Cortland Manor has always been too cold, but now I feel heat like a furnace burns inside her body. “I would give you anything.”

“Even love?” The manic disorientation of sleep is gone from her gaze. She stares up at me like she sees right through me, like she sees everything I’ve ever tried to hide from her and the rest of the world.

Love. I’ve never used that word with anyone. Not my father, because he wouldn’t want to hear it. Not with Giselle. Maybe once with Emma when she was already asleep and wouldn’t hear it.

Love is terrifying. It makes you weak because it gives you something to lose.

“You are the air that I breathe. You always have been, even when I hated you,” I say, staring down into her eyes as I watch for any reaction to my words. “I don’t care about the money or the family legacy. I would burn this town to the ground and never look back, if it means I get to have you. I love you so much that it fucking hurts.”

“No one is suggesting arson.” Her small smile plows into me and sucks the air from my lungs. “I’ve always loved you, I think. Even when you hated me.”

“I never hated you as much as I hated myself.” My hands coast over her body, tracing the curves of her hips and over the flat plane of her stomach. “I’m so sorry for everything. I let the anger twist me up until I became a monster, but I never stopped wanting you. Loving you. I don’t care about the inheritance. The money is just another noose tied around my damn neck. We don’t need it.”

“Really?” Her disbelief is obvious. She laughs when I tickle her hard in the ribs, but doesn’t try to roll away. “You have no idea what it’s like to be poor.”

“I know what it’s like to be without you. Anything else is just details.” It isn’t a lie. Money is a tool, a means to an end. I’ve had it before, and I’ll manage to get it again. The only thing I can’t stand to lose is her.

“I’m sorry, too. For going in the water…” she trails off, voice stricken.

Zaya had tried to escape. Escape, because I drove her past the point of desperation. She hadn’t been running towards death so much as she had been running away from me.

I will never give her a reason to run again.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” I press another kiss against her full lips. It’s still hard to believe that she’s mine. I might have thought I owned her before, but I had no idea. “But if you really want to make it up to me, I have a few ideas.”

“I’m not pregnant, by the way.”

I briefly consider lying and immediately abandon the idea. “Iain told me. It’s a relief, honestly. Babies shouldn’t come into the world already burdened with their parents mistakes.”

She grips my forearms and pulls me closer, pressing her lower body against mine. Her expression is playful. “No more holes poked in condoms?”

“I’ll take you to the clinic first thing in the morning,” I promise, trying for contrite with the wide smile on my face. “In the meantime, I can think of dozens of things we can do that won’t make a baby. Care for a demonstration?”

Zaya giggles as I duck my head to press a kiss against her stomach with every intention of moving lower. Her fingers tangle in my hair, forcing my head up so I can look her in the eye.

“I love you,” she says again, and my heart sings.

“I would have chased you into the deepest ocean, Milbourne. It doesn’t matter how fast you run or how far you go, I will always follow after you.” The words are an incantation, invoking whatever dark diety might be listening. “You’re in my head and in my heart. My blood only flows for you. Forever.”

And I kiss her like I mean for this to be forever, because I do.

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