Page 47 of Lost Kingdom

“Jealousy is so…” I shake my head, impressed and, at the same time, unsurprised. “So much darker than you. And yet, you wear it so well.”

“What can I say?” She preens and sways. A vixen in a floor-length gown. “I’ve been telling you for years what I knew about us, but you refused to listen. Pride is often a man’s undoing, Malone. And the egoyoucarry?” She glances to the ceiling, her lashes almost kissing her brow bone. “Foolish, at best. The universe has a plan, one that was set in motion long before we knew each other. But your constant fighting over the years has created an imbalance. That imbalance will need to be righted before we can be happy.”

My heart kicks in my chest. Painful and yet, righteous. Because this is what I’ve been saying all along. “So if something bad happens to you, it’s because of me?”

She allows me to hold her weight, leaning back and smiling up at the ceiling. “It’s a journey. Everything we are, and every choice we make… a journey. We can’t escape it. We just have to survive it. Do you want to tell me what was in the envelope from Felix’s wedding yet?”

“No.” Am I ready to tell her I had documents forged, a marriage created, and took a choice out of her hands… again? Fuck no. “It was nothing important.”

She straightens again and drapes her arms over my shoulders. “Shame. Someday you’ll be able to share everything with me. And when that day comes, we’ll be everything we need to be to ensure our happiness. But until then…” She searches my eyes. “I can’t help but feel that none of this is real.”

“This wedding?” I peek over the top of her head to a drinking Duane. Stumbling already, and flirting with any woman not related to him. “This day?”

“This dance. You and me.” She taps my chin and draws my focus back down. “I don’t even know if you actually kissed me earlier, or if that was a culmination of a stressful week, long hours, and an overactive imagination.”

“Want me to kiss you again?” I slide my hand up her spine and stop at the back of her neck. “To remind you. It wouldn’t be a hardship, and your parents think we’re already engaged, so it won’t be a social scandal. Besides, the football guy is starting to stare, so it’s probably time we make that statement before he gets any ideas.”

She snorts, unladylike and silly. But I grab her chin and tilt her head back until her lips drop open.

“You can tell me no,” I whisper, leaning closer until my words feather across her lips. “At any point, from now until forever, no matter what we’re doing or where we’re doing it or who’s around to see us. You can tell me no, and I’ll always listen.”

“You carry so much guilt for the things your father did.”

Stunned, I drop my head to the side and narrow my eyes. “What?”

“Consent. You want it etched in stone and drilled into my conscience, because your father didn’t care for it, and you refuse to be like him. He hurt people, Tim. He made those choices, and he danced on the bodies of those he tormented with glee. But you’re terrified that, because you share a name, everyone will lump you with the crimes he committed.”

“You’re overthinking it. I didn’t?—”

“Am I?” Her lips curl into a sweet, healing smile that arrows for my heart. “You’ve been telling me no for years, all because of the threat you thought I would face simply by dating a man with that name.”

“That threat wasn’t in my head. It was real.”

“And now it’s not? What changed?”

“He died.” My heart pounds against my diaphragm and knocks the oxygen from my lungs. But I hold her close, the wolf wrapping his arms around Red, and rest my forehead on hers. “I wanted to kiss you. But somehow, you’ve turned it into a therapy session about my father.”

“Just an observation.” Her eyes dance, happiness beaming from the perfect blue orbs. “My job is to observe, and I can’t always switch it off just because it’s the weekend. Also,” she wrinkles her nose. “I didn’t say no to the kiss. You’re holding out on me.”

“Oh, well…” I inch closer until I taste her breath on my tongue. “You said this doesn’t feel real, so in the spirit of reinforcing positive memories…”

“From proud to martyr,” she teases, dragging her manicured nails through my hair. “You’re a multifaceted man, Timothy.”

“Shut up.” I pinch her chin between my fingers and drag her to the tips of her toes. This isn’t about Duane. Or Chester. Or fake-not-fake proposals. This is about me and her, and it’s about healing a heart I’ve bruised time and time again. I press my lips to hers and groan when our connection is like a whoosh of air filling my lungs. She stands on her toes and squeezes her arms to ensure no room exists between us. Then she suckles my bottom lip and undoes me, heart and soul. “Jesus.” I crush her ribs beneath my hands,dragging her against my chest and swallowing down every exhale she releases. “Aubree.”

“It’s like magic,” she pants, dropping back to her heels and fluttering her eyes closed for a beat. “I’ve waited. And this is my reward.”

“I’m your reward?” I scoff my disbelief. To think she’s the lucky one is ridiculous. I’m her punishment for things she never did. But I’m too fucking selfish to let her go. “No, Aubree.” I press another kiss to her plump lips. “You’re mine. Though I have no clue what I did to earn you.”

“Aubree!” Duane sidles up on my right, one hand wrapped around his mother’s and the other chastely sitting on her hip. He’s sprinting toward belligerent, and when his taunting eyes jump to mine, I know he’s ready to fuck some shit up. So I hold Aubree close and almost turn us away. Though I’m careful not to give them my back. “You two seem quite cozy. New love is just so…” he makes a sound in the back of his throat. “Wholesome.”

Clueless to her brother’s undertones, Aubree rolls her eyes and reaches across to swipe at the smudge still annoying her on the side of his neck. “You were late to arrive, and now you’re interrupting my slow dance. That’s rude times two. Did you forget your manners since I moved out?”

“Forget?” He sways and casts a sly side-eye my way. “No, Sissy. My memory is sharp as a tack.”

“What happened to your face, anyway?” She grabs his chin and forces him to turn right. Though he slaps her hand away. A crimeanyoneelse would die for. But brothers… sisters… where do I draw the line and not break Aubree’s heart? “You’ve grazed your jaw, and you haven’t explained it.”

“He stumbled into the street last week,” Joanette mumbles. “Apparently. He’s always been so clumsy.”

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