Page 107 of Claiming Pretty

“Ciaran,” I called softly. “What are you doing up there?”

“Go back inside.”

The sharpness in his tone should have deterred me, but it didn’t. If anything, it fueled my resolve.

I moved to the edge of the balcony, my fingers curling over the cold stone railing. “I’m coming up.”

“Don’t be stupid, Ava.” He finally turned, his blue eyes blazing even in the dusk light. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

I rolled my eyes, planting my foot on the railing. “I’ll be fine.”

He cursed under his breath as I hoisted myself up with the strength I’d earned at Blackthorn, the training that had saved my life more than once. My muscles strained, but I made it up without faltering.

I crouched on the roof, steadying myself before moving toward him. His scowl deepened as I settled beside him, close but not touching.

“You’re insane,” he muttered, his bruised jaw tight.

“Maybe,” I said. “But so are you.”

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The silence between us was heavy, oppressive, punctuated only by the faint rustle of the trees below.

He stared out over the campus, over the spires and stone towers that broke through the Darkmoor forest, his profile carved from stone, but his shoulders were tense, his hands, still dirty and grazed, clenched.

“What are you doing out here?” I finally asked.

He exhaled sharply, a bitter laugh escaping him. “Thinking.”

“About?”

He turned to me then, his gaze raw, unguarded. “About how Ty’s probably right.”

I blinked. “Right about what?”

His lips twisted into a humorless smile. “That I’m not the best man for you.”

The confession knocked the air from my lungs. “Scáth—”

“Exactly. I’m yourshadow, Ava,” he said. “Not the man who gets to keep you. Just the one who watches from the dark.”

“That’s not true,” I said, my voice cracking. “You’re—”

“Don’t,” he cut me off, his eyes searching mine. “Don’t lie to make me feel better.”

I looked away, my heart pounding.

“I’m not lying,” I whispered. “I love you so much…”

His brows furrowed. “But?”

“But you terrify me,” I admitted, my voice thick with emotion. “The way you love me. It’s so intense, so… stifling. It feels like I’m choking and flying all at once.”

He stared at me, the vulnerability in his expression cutting me to the bone.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I just… I don’t know how to love you any other way.”

My chest tightened. “And that’s the problem. I love you. But I’ve changed. And I love who I’ve become, who I’m becoming. I’m afraid of losing myself to you. Afraid that you can’t love me if I’m not who you want me to be.”

The silence stretched again, heavy with everything we weren’t saying.

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