Page 47 of Mated Exile

Breathing in sharply, I stride towards him and ask, "Does that mean you're going to giveusa chance?"

Roarke turns towards me, startled, like he forgot I was there in his he-man state. His eyes meet mine, and for a moment I think he might say something in the negative. There's a strange, almost sick expression on his face, and all I want is to pull his secret from him.

Looking over my shoulder, I meet Kieran's eyes. "Tell him that he's allowed to date me."

"What?" Kieran's brows furrow, though there's a distinctively unhappy frown on his face. "Look, Delilah, I have no claim on you. I know that. The moment your father told me to reject you, and I listened, I gave up any right I have to tell you who to date."

"Did you hear that?" Looking at Roarke, I desperately search his face, but he still looks uncertain. "He says you can date me. Give it a damned chance already."

"You don't know everything," he says in a low voice. "You don't knowme.Not this version of me, at least."

"Exactly." I scowl at him. "So let me get to know you."

His voice is amused but resigned as he asks, "You're not going to give up on this, are you?"

"No, I'm not."

"Then I have to say yes." Brows drawing together, Roarke shakes his head at me, his mouth curled up in a pained smile. "It's only two weeks, so I guess it can't hurt anything. You'll come to the same conclusion as me by the end of it. No matter how either one of us feels, I'm not the guy for you."

This time someone else's voice overlaps mine as I say, "Oh, shut up."

Whirling around, I look at Lance, who has been quiet this whole time. He's been quiet in general since I've gotten back—a constant presence, unyielding and unwavering, like still water keeping a ship afloat.

I blink as he shoots a hard-eyed stare in Roarke's direction, his arms crossed and his expression unyielding. "We both know that you've been punishing yourself for too long, denying what you want and what's good for the pack. If we're going to move forward, get past this curse, and defeat the vamps, we need to band together—allof us. Your stiff-lipped denial of what you want isn't going to help that at all."

Roarke licks his lips, considers Lance's words, and flicks his eyes to me. He nods sharply, an affirmation that he's going to give us a chance. I breathe a sigh of relief—then look over at Kieran, worried what I'll see.

He's staring, not at me or Roarke, but at Lance, his face considering. After a long moment he asks, "Would you be my sponsor?"

Lance blinks at him, surprise rippling across his expression. "I'm not an addict. I never was."

"I know. I don't want that kind of help." Kieran shakes his head. "My father was an alcoholic, and the only thing other drunks ever helped him do was find creative ways to fall off the wagon. I want someone who can help center me. Lance, you're the most centered person I know."

The hope and determination in Kieran's voice makes me believe he'll be able to change. I watch Lance consider it, his eyes briefly flicking to me and back. Stretching out my awareness, I skim my magic across both their minds, trying to let it flit across the surface without diving deep.

There's that hole deep in Kieran, black and rotten.

And a steady center to Lance, one that's strong not because he's never experienced pain, but because he has. I can sense that. He's overcome it, and because of that, he knows who he is.

"Sure, I'll sponsor you," he tells Kieran after a long, considering moment. "Any time you feel like falling off the wagon, we'll talk. And I guess we can have meetings—but you'll have to get up early and come to the gym."

"Of course! And thank you." Kieran brightens. "This is going to be great."

"Don't get too excited," Lance warns. "I wake up at five every morning."

This makes Kieran blanch, but he nods sharply, determination in his face. "Whatever it takes." Ascending the porch steps, he looks over at me and adds, "I want to show Delilah what kind of man I can become."

I feel a fist in the middle of my chest, and have to swallow over the lump in my throat. "Do it for yourself, K. Not just for me."

"I will." His smile is soft, and it shifts his face into the young, healthy Kieran I remember. "I want to be who I used to be. Even if it's too late to have you, Dee. I'll accept it if we don't wind up together, but I don't want to be a burden anymore."

Because I can't seem to find any words, I nod at him, then change the subject. "We should get to work on the painting. Also, fair warning, Cat made enough coffee and breakfast for a dozen werewolves."

The guys file into the house first, but Lance hangs back, and I wait for him. As the newly-repaired door shuts, he turns to me, his eyes shadowed by the porch overhang. I'm struck by the strength of his jawline, the press of his muscles, and how still he stands, like a great oak tree in the middle of a vast forest, immovable.

"I want you to know, Delilah, that I'm going to give this all I've got." Stepping towards me, he reaches out and curves his hand against my cheek, the shock of his touch electrifying. "Now that you've given the go-ahead, I'm not going to wait for you to come to me anymore. I'm going to show you the man I am, and the kind of mate I'll be."

Inhaling sharply, I catch the scent of pine needles and mint on the air. In a low voice I ask, "What kind of man is that?"

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