Page 21 of Darkness and Deceit
He watches me like I’ll run. Maybe like he wants me to. I force myself to speak. “Did you mean it?”
Kai tilts his head, the movement almost predatory. “Mean what?”
“Back there,” I whisper. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you admit out loud that we’re mates.”
He studies me for a long moment. “It isn’t something I needed to say to make it true.”
My stomach flips at his certainty, at theconfidencein which he says it.
The hall is so silent I swear I can hear my own pulse.
“You don’t have to stay. You know that, right?” My voice is hoarse. “I don’t want anyone getting hurt. Not because of me.”
Kai’s mouth curves, but it’s not quite a smile. “You think I started getting hurt when you came along?” He steps closer, the motion slow and deliberate, like he’s giving me time to run if that’s what I want.
He stops a breath away. “I was broken before,” he says, voice soft and matter-of-fact. “This isn’t new. It isn’t worse. It’s just... different, now that there’s something to fight for.”
I don’t trust my mouth to form words. There’s a tearing behind my ribs, as if a wild animal is trying to escape, but it’s not the fox or the deer. It’s just me.
He lifts his chin and meets my gaze. “If you want out, say so,” Kai says. “If you don’t want this, tell me.”
The words sit between us like a sword laid gently on the floor.
No pressure. No demand. A choice—mychoice.
I open my mouth, but I don’t know what to say. The truth feels too big, too raw.
I want to reach for him, to knit myself into his gravity and let everything else go. But I’m scared. I’m terrified of what it means to want something that might never be safe.
When I look at him—all of him, the scars and ice and steadiness and the hurt buried under the surface—I see the same thing I see in the mirror at my worst: someone who’s survived.
I bite the inside of my cheek, hard, to center myself.
When I finally manage to speak, my voice is so small I almost don’t recognize it. “I want it. But I’m scared of what that means for you.”
He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t mock my fear. Instead he nods, like he understands better than I do.
“You’re not responsible for what happens to me,” he says, and there’s a calm certainty in it that makes me want to believe him.
“But I am.”
Kai steps closer. His hand hovers close to mine, not quite touching, and I realize he’s waiting for permission. The control, the care in that—I can’t take it. I close the gap, clutching his hand like it’s the only real thing left. The contact is stupidly electric, like the bond between us is singing. It steadies me instantly.
He squeezes lightly, as if to prove he’s really there. “You’ve got me. And Iwilleliminate anything that stands between us.”
I stare at him, my heart pounding.
“I climbed seven stories to reach you,” he says. “And I’d do it again. A hundred times. I didn’t care what waited at the top. I just needed toget to you.”
“Even knowing they’d throw you off?”
“Especially then.” His voice doesn’t waver. “Because if there’s even a chance you’re not safe, Iwillact. That’s what being your mate means to me.”
My breath stutters, caught between want and warning.
“Then show me,” I whisper.
His expression shifts and then he moves. One step and then another. Until there’s no space left between us. He plants an arm above my head, caging me in, and his eyes rake over my face like he’s reading something written in a language only he understands.
