Page 67 of Caged By Dance and Desire

He stared.

“I just thought—I caused quite a bit of. . .trouble. . .tonight. It seemed like maybe his patience is. . .” I trailed off. “I wouldn’t blame him.”

Constin shook his head. “I don’t know what to say. I’m reminding myself you haven’t been among us that long. Anah, he is never going to let you go. You have to internalize that. You’re still making decisions thinking there’s a future that doesn’t include him.”

I shrugged. “I’m used to walking away. To being walked away from. This isn’t the first time I’ve caused a man trouble. Just not in quite this fashion.”

He ran a hand over his face, and stood.

“Right. Back to the aforementioned trouble, because I really don’t think anything is going to get through your denial tonight.” Constin paused. “I’m supposed to tell you not to cry, but for your sake, I would spill a few more tears when Andrei returns, and look extra fragile. Use your breasts—they’re effective weapons, and if I had a set. . .well. He would never win an argument again.”

I pursed my lips against a smile. “You have other weapons, Constin.”

“Yes, I do. And when you’re ready, I’ll show you my weapons.” He sighed. “He is very, very angry, my darling. You will have bad dreams tonight, but we’re going to have nightmares because we know what could have happened to you, and your imagination is clearly lacking.”

Along with my sense, was the silent implication.

Constin walked to the door and paused, laying a fist on the lintel as if he needed the support.

“You would have died after a time and found peace—Lord Issahelle would not have allowed him to negotiate. But we would have lived with your destruction for the rest of our lives. Lived with the memory of your remains—what little was left of them—and lived with our failure. This kind of failure is the most frequent reason why the High Lords begin to go mad. Oh, and you owe Mathen a fucking apology. We’re going to discuss that compulsion shit of yours.”

He gave me a final, piercing look then left the bedroom.

At least he didn’t slam the door.

Chapter

Nineteen

Irested my head on my knees for who knew how long, stirring only when the door opened. I straightened as Mathen stopped in the threshold, expression grave.

“It's time, Lady.”

I nodded stiffly and slipped off the bed, walking towards him with as much poise as I could manage.

I'd put these people in danger. People I was coming, inexplicably, to love with a fierceness I hadn't thought I was capable of outside of my family—and I'd left Hawaii to pursue dance. I hadn't looked behind, or doubted, once.

I stared at his shoulder, clasping my hands at my waist. “I owe you an apology.”

Mathen slid fingers under my chin, lifting my head, and searched my eyes.

“When we thought—” he faltered, russet eyes darkening. “—when we thought the worst, when Drei screamed. . .Anali. You can’t understand how quickly, how fiercely the Fae can love. Notwhen we maintain the fiction we can’t and don’t. But please. Never leave me behind again.”

I closed my eyes, pressing my lids against the heat of tears. More tears. Always tears. What grown woman of thirty years cried this much? Of course Andrei would laugh himself silly at the “grown” bit. To him I was barely legal.

I leaned forward, resting my forehead on Mathen’s chest. They could all stand to lose a few inches of height. His thick arms came around me in a bear hug and lifted me off my feet, nestling his cheek to mine.

“If you were ever taken and seriously hurt it would kill me,” he said. “Either because you were taken over my dead body?—”

“Which I agree would be uncomfortable.”

“—or because I’d fall on my sword from my failure.”

“Equally unpleasant.”

“Anali.” He shook me gently. “Do you understand? Don't leave me behind.”

Mathen drew back, searching my eyes again, and placed my hands against his shoulders.

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