Page 109 of Court of Evil

“Yes, you do. You let me win,” I snap. “I want to know why.”

“No one else suspected I let us draw,” he starts, and I narrow my eyes as I press my finger into his chest.

“They do not matter to me. Why you did it bothers me. Why did you let me win?” I hiss.

He wraps his hand around my finger and presses my palm to his chest, and I swear I feel his heart racing. “I didn’t let you win, angel.” When I go to pull away, he circles his arm around me, stopping my movements, and my eyes jerk back to his. “I didn’t. We could have kept fighting, and you would have won, but the message had been sent, so I just let the inevitable outcome happen. You think I would be able to kill you?” he murmurs, frustration in his tone. “That is what it would have come down to. You would kill me to win, I know that, but I would never be able to kill you, not even to win. So yes, I stepped back. I let you have the win instead of the draw.”

“Why?” I murmur.

“Don’t you see, angel? Everyone else does. You’re my fucking weakness, my soft spot, and always have been.”

I stare into his eyes for a moment, reading the stark truth there. “You’re such a liar, Shamus. You just let me win.” I tug away, feeling annoyance as well as something else I don’t want to look at.

I try to turn away, but I’m slammed back to the sofa, and he’s above me with his hands on either side of my head, pinning me. My eyes widen as he leans in. “I have never and will never lie to you, angel. You are the only person in this world who could ask anything of me and I would do it without thinking. Not even Ronan can say that, and he has been with me all my life. You’re my weakness, Tate Havelock, in every sense of the word. How do you not see that? One look from you and I’m weak. One word from you and I’m running to your side. My life and blade are yours. I’d give you this entire organisation if you asked. I’d let you kill all of them if it would make you feel better. If that isn’t weakness, then what is?”

“Why? Why am I your weakness? I’m just a hunter,” I press.

“You were never just a hunter, and you know it, so stop lying to yourself. From the moment you stepped foot in my office, you became mine.” My eyes narrow at that, and he grins. “In more ways than one. I would do anything for you, angel. I would break truces, risk death, face torture and punishment, make deals for weapons, and fight my own people. When will you see what is right in front of you?”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I remain silent, staring up into his dark eyes and finally seeing the truth in them, the one I never wanted to see.

The devotion.

The obsession.

He broke the fae’s truce to save my life.

He made his best friend haunt me to keep me safe.

He made a deal to give me a blade to end my enemies’ lives.

He kneeled before his people for me.

He let me beat him, surrendering when he never has before.

I think back on all our arguments over the years, the push and shove and the way I would force myself to hate him because it was easier to do than admit I wanted him. I might have hated him as well, but somewhere along the way, that hate changed.

He trusts me, values my input, respects my strength, and has never held me back.

How could I not want him?

I couldn’t let myself, though, so I buried it so deep down I would never act on it, hidden in dreams and veiled arguments, and he waited. He never pushed, but now he’s above me, telling me everything I didn’t know I wanted to hear, making me look at myself.

I was reborn because of him. Can I finally allow myself to take what I want?

Him?

“Do you want me to believe you came here for answers? No, you can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to me. You know why I did it. You just wanted an excuse to come here, didn’t you?”

“Fuck off!” I go to push him, but his hand grips me tighter and jerks my chin back to him.

“Don’t lie, angel. It isn’t your strong suit. You’ve always been brutally honest, so why hide from it now? You want me. You came here to fuck me, to finish what we started. You’re letting me pin you now. You could get out of this if you really wanted to, but you don’t.” He lets go and sits astride me. His built chest rolls with the movement, mesmerising me for a moment.

Shamus really is a fucking machine. His brain is built for leading, but his body was built for fighting . . . and fucking.

He’s right, fuck.

I hate that he always sees through me.

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