Page 32 of The Shattered Kingdom
“Mason.” My voice cracks. “Please. I don’t want it.”
The calloused pad of Mason’s thumbs swipes under my eyes, wiping away the tears beginning to fall. “I told you not to touch me.”
“This isn’t my world,” I say. “I have family to go home to.”
I have to return to them. It’s not an option.
“We can bring them here.”
“I’m human,” I say. “Happily human. I have a whole life to return to, a life I’mexcitedto return to.”
Mason’s silence isn’t encouraging.
I continue. “We can go to Zaha. She can fix this.”
Mason shakes his head. “She won’t, and she’ll punish us for asking.”
I believe that. Zaha knew we were mates when we came to her, which explains her surprise when Mason and Kie offered me up on a silver platter. Was that why she rejected me? Why she sent Kie and me to my childhood home? Did she plan for this to happen?
“You tried to kill me,” I say.
“I’m aware.”
“You forcibly bathed me. You humiliated me.”
“Yes.”
The memories flash through my mind, each more painful than the last. I thought they were going to rape me. I had no reason to believe otherwise, not when they practically held me down and stripped off my clothes.
“You offered me to Zaha as a human slave.”
A beat of silence, then, “Yes.”
“Is that all you have to say?”
Mason’s fingers tighten against the back of my head. He’s holding my skull like it’s a bowling ball he’s terrified of dropping, and he looks awkward doing it. His shoulders are hunched and his back bent, and he’s worrying his bottom lip between his teeth so hard, I’m surprised there’s any lip left.
It’s because he’s never held a woman. He doesn’t know how to do any of this.
I don’t let that realization soften me.
“Well?” I urge. “Is that all you have to say?”
“What do you want me to say?” Mason asks. “I did those things, and I very well can’t take them back. The fact of the matter is that hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of faeries will die if the shifters continue cultivating delysum. Shifters will die, too. You are innocent, but so are they. We shouldn’t have been so rough with you, and we shouldn’t have taken things to the extent we did, but we did. I live with that, and I’ll continue to live with that for the remainder of my life, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
Everything Mason says is true, but I don’t feel satisfied. I grab his arms and pull his hands away from my head, not wanting his touch. His retreat leaves me feeling cold, but I ignore the unpleasant sensation.
Mason’s touch is like a warm, gooey cookie on a chilled, snowy day. I know it’s unhealthy, but fuck if I don’t want to shove the entire cookie in my mouth in one bite. I want to choke on it.It’s the damn bond.
Mason’s gaze travels to my mouth. “I’m sorry about this.”
Before I so much as have the opportunity to consider what he’s apologizing for, his mouth is on mine. I’m expecting a rough kiss, but he barely touches me. He’s uncharacteristically hesitant. Fearful, even.
My lips curl, the humor of this situation too great to ignore.
Mason’s hands find my waist and his mouth trails to my jaw. My smile falls. I should most definitely stop this, but my arms are glued to my sides. It feels too good, and my skin is on fire.
“I wanted to touch you so badly,” he admits. “I knew you were my mate. I knew it.”
