Page 129 of Kingmakers, Year Three

I try giving her space for a couple of days, but when I approach her again outside the Keep, she’s as determined as ever.

“It’s over, Dean,” she tells me. “Our relationship was wrong from the start. Nothing built out of violence and lies and coercion could ever turn into something good.”

“That’s not true!” I cry. “It can be whatever we want it to be. It’s our choice what it becomes, it doesn’t matter how it started.”

She shakes her head at me, her eyes sad and unbelieving.

It doesn’t help that I can barely contain my frustration every time she shuts me down again. I’m trying to prove to Cat that I can be calm, controlled, reasonable, but it’s driving me insane that she won’t speak to me, that she won’t give me another chance.

“I love you!” I say, seizing her hand. “And I know you love me too. Look at me and tell me you don’t.”

She refuses to look at me.

And refuses to answer.

The next timeI see her, she’s walking to class with Hedeon Gray.

It feels intentional, like she’s trying to enrage me.

She knows I don’t trust Hedeon. I don’t trust any man around her—I’m the one who should be walking at her side. I’m the one she should be gazing up at, smiling in that way that feels like a hand reaching into my chest, squeezing my heart . . .

I cut across their path, making Hedeon pull up short.

“Thanks for keeping her company,” I say to Hedeon. “I’ll take it from here.”

Hedeon throws a quick glance at Cat, which only infuriates me more.

“I don’t think—” he starts.

“Yeah, don’t think,” I hiss. “Don’t strain your brain. Just carry on your way.”

Hedeon glares at me, fists clenched at his sides.

Hedeon’s a decent fighter, and he’s not afraid to face off against even Silas. But he knows if he goes toe-to-toe with me, I’ll knock him flat.

Plus, I haven’t slept in three days—I probably look none-too-stable at the moment.

Deciding it’s not worth the hassle, Hedeon stalks off toward the Keep.

Cat rounds on me, cheeks flaming and eyes snapping. God she looks sexy when she’s angry.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she demands, stomping her foot in a way that’s utterly adorable.

“I’m walking you to class.”

“I don’t want you to walk me to class. I don’t want you anywhere near me.”

“Yes you do,” I growl. “You miss me, and I miss you. Stop torturing us both.”

“You have no right to scare off my friends or to harass me!” Cat cries. She’s angry too. The air between us crackles with that tension so familiar to me—the kind that makes me want to seize her and kiss her until both our lips are bloody.

I’d do it, if I weren’t afraid it would break the last bonds between us.

Because Cat really is pissed, and I don’t trust myself not to make this worse.

“You leave me no choice!” I say. “I can’t just walk away from you. I need you, Cat. I love you.”

“It’s always what you want, what you need,” she says, tears glinting in her eyes.

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