Page 169 of Dance of Madness

His throat works as he stares down at me, chest rising and falling like something’s trying to tear its way out of him.

“No,” he rasps. “That’s not enough.”

He brushes wet hair from my face, his hand shaking.

I go to speak, but he stops me with a shake of his head.

“I am so fucking sorry, Milena.”

His forehead presses to mine. I feel the heat of him. The tremble in his chest.

“I should’ve trusted you,” he whispers. “I should’ve looked you in the eye and seen what was real. But I wasn’t looking at you, Milena,” he chokes. “I was looking at everything I lost, and makingyoufucking pay for it.”

“Nero—”

“I wanted to hurt someone for what happened to me,” he hisses, his hands shaking as they cup my face. “And you were the only person that I could make bleed. All I could focus on was my pain and my grief and the past,” he chokes, “instead of what’s right here, right now.”

I tremble as he holds me tighter, his eyes two green flames blazing into mine.

“You were right there in front of me, baby. And all I could see were the ghosts.”

“You don’t have to do this,” I whisper, smiling through the tears as I reach out to touch his face. “I forgive you.”

But he shakes his head.

“I don’t deserve to be.”

“Nero—”

“I’m so fucking sorry, princess,” he whispers, closing his eyes. “For the cage. For not believing you. For hurting you when all you ever did waslove me.”

He takes my hands in his and brings them up to his mouth, our foreheads still touching. My heart melts as he starts to kiss my knuckles, one after the other.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t better. I’m sorry I didn’t just fucking tell you I loved you?—”

“You don’t have to keep saying sorry,” I whisper as I start kissinghisknuckles.

His eyes meet mine, something flickering in them that I’ve never seen before.

“Say it again,” he murmurs.

My lips curl into a grin.

"Say what?"

"You know what."

“I love you.”

He buries his face in my neck, holding me tight like he might fall apart without me. I whimper when I feel his lips on my skin and his hands on my body.

A hardness between us.

When I reach for him, he stops me.

“I’m not done apologizing yet. Turn around.”

“You are, trust me?—”

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