Page 70 of An Empress of Air & Chaos

“Hold on.” Emara stopped walking. “You punched Torin?” she asked.

He nodded with a sigh.

“Why?” she gasped. “What did he say?”

What could Torin have said that made Gideon punch him? A crawling feeling spread across her stomach, causing it to flip. She prayed to the Gods that he hadn’t mentioned the part in La Luna where they were so close to kissing.

“He said that he almost kissed you.” A strange emotion passed through Gideon’s tone.

That bastard.

She didn’t want Gideon to know any of that. She had let her guard down for a split second and it had been a mistake.

His eyes flickered to hers and then to the ground. “So I punched him in the face.”

“Is it weird to tell you that I am envious that you got to punch him in the face?” Right now? She wanted to punch Torin in the face. He had told Gideon about their moment in La Luna to rile him, nothing more.

He let a stiff laugh split his lips. “You are not the first person to want to punch him in the face.”

That she could imagine.

“Not everyone can be a gentleman and keep their affairs to themselves.”

There was a momentary pause between them, allowing her to hear the music of the birds nesting in the trees. Both gazed ahead as they walked shoulder to shoulder, enjoying the scenic view. His fingers grazed hers, but he didn’t move them together or reach for her.

“You didn’t have to punch him for me, you know” she joked. “I would have been happy to take on that responsibility.”

He laughed warmly. “No, I did. Not only for you, but for every other girl he messes with.” He looked ahead. “It’s been a long time coming. Someone needs to let him know his behaviour is not okay.” Gideon paused, deep in thought. “He knows exactly what to do to get under my skin.”

“You are not the only one,” Emara muttered lowly.

There was a blissful silence as they bonded over a sneer at Torin’s talents for infuriating them. But curiosity overwhelmed her about Breighly, the barmaid from last night, and she had to ask him about her. “Are you and Breighly, um, together?” she coughed out.

“Breighly?” He laughed fondly at her name. “No.” A feeling of relief ticked over in her heart as she tried to remain unfazed on the outside. “Breighly is a good friend. I haven’t seen her in Gods know how long until last night.” He looked at Emara. “We used to be a thing.”

Ah! There it was. That sting. The one she had been told about, but never experienced.

“Well, not a thing, but you know…” His face told the story well. He didn’t have to say anything as the warmth flushed his cheeks. She knew exactly what they had meant to each other by the look on his face. He didn’t want to be ungentlemanly in his words.

“A friend who you could...” Emara didn’t finish her sentence. She pushed her lips together. “Be with.”

“Be with. I suppose that’s a nice way to put it,” he laughed awkwardly. “It wasn’t supposed to mean anything to either of us. But the second it did, we both agreed to pull back. She would be promised to someone else—a member of her pack.”

Emara’s head snapped ‘round at the word pack. But she didn’t want to interrupt and ask questions as Gideon spoke from the heart, so she tucked it away in her mind for another time.

“You loved her, didn’t you?” Emara said delicately.

He let out a small laugh, the kind of laugh you let escape when you didn’t expect to be questioned about something you found hard to express. “I tried not to. But I did. I fell for her. Sometimes it just happens, even when you don’t intend for it to.” He looked at Emara and then looked up, the sunset light causing his eyes to shine forever green. “We both agreed to stop before it got incredibly messy. She and I would be pulled in opposite directions eventually. It’s not often Shifters and Hunters can make it work. Shifters mate and Hunters don’t really want to be in the middle of two mates.” He laughed at the thought. “We were happy to at least remain friends.”

He had been in love. Was he still in love?

Emara’s heart ached selfishly for something she had never had. A chord stuck within her for a longing that, one day, she would feel love or be in love. Wildly in love—like the women in the books she used to sneak from the shelves of her grandmother’s library, in the forbidden section. Wildly in love like her mother had been—willing to do anything for the person she loved.

They turned the corner of the path and headed under an arch, an array of blooming white and pink winter roses climbed up the framework, causing her breath to hitch. It was beautiful.

“Did you love—”

“No,” she cut him off. She knew exactly what he was going to say, and she didn’t want to hear his name. Not today.

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