Page 42 of The Demon's Little Girl
"All right, what's going on?"
I nearly choke on my first sip. "What do you mean?"
"Liora." His tone is patient but firm, the one that says he's not buying my deflection. "You look like someone who's been wrestling with demons all night. And not the literal kind."
Heat floods my cheeks before I can stop it, and his eyebrows rise slightly at my reaction. Damn him for being so perceptive.
"It's nothing."
"Right." He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. The movement emphasizes the lean muscle of his forearms, the deadly grace that makes him so effective as Rovak's guard. "Try again."
The tea burns my tongue as I take another sip, buying time I don't really have. Avenor will sit here all night if necessary, waiting me out with that infinite patience he's perfected over the years.
"Rovak and I..." I start, then falter. How exactly does one explain what happened in the garden? "We kissed."
Something that might be satisfaction flickers across his features, gone too quickly to be certain. "About time."
"It was a mistake."
"Was it?" He tilts his head slightly, studying me with those unsettling eyes. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like something that should have happened years ago."
"You don't understand?—"
"Then explain it to me."
The simple request hangs between us, heavy with implications. Part of me wants to tell him everything, to finallyshare the burden I've been carrying alone. But shame holds my tongue, makes the words stick in my throat like thorns.
"I... I did more than just kiss him." The admission comes out barely above a whisper, but Avenor's enhanced hearing catches it easily.
A slow smirk spreads across his face. "How much more?"
"I—" My face burns hotter. "I sort of rode him. With our clothes on."
"Good for you." His reaction is so matter-of-fact that I nearly spill my tea.
"Good for me? Avenor, I practically attacked him like some kind of?—"
"Like a woman who wants the man she cares about?" He shrugs, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. "Trust me, he didn't mind."
The casual dismissal of my mortification stuns me into silence for a moment. "It was still a mistake."
"Why?"
Such a simple question, but it cuts straight to the heart of everything I can't say. Because I'm ruined. Because if he knew the truth about Nalla, about what Xharn did to me, he'd see me differently. Because I'm not worthy of someone like him.
"If Rovak knew everything about me, he wouldn't want me." The words taste bitter on my tongue, but they feel true in my bones.
Avenor's expression shifts, becoming more serious. "That's ridiculous."
"Is it?" I meet his gaze directly, letting him see some of the pain I usually keep hidden. "You don't know what I've done. What's been done to me. If he knew the truth about... about everything, he'd realize I'm not worth the trouble."
For a long moment, neither of us speaks. Avenor studies me with those penetrating eyes, and I have the uncomfortablefeeling he's seeing more than I want him to. More than anyone should.
"You're wrong," he says finally, voice gentler than usual. "But I can see you're not ready to believe that yet."
He doesn't push, doesn't demand explanations I'm not ready to give. It's one of the things I've always appreciated about Avenor—he sees everything but respects boundaries, even when he disagrees with them.
"He cares about you," he continues, swirling the amerinth in his cup. "More than you realize. Whatever you think would change his mind... you're wrong about that too."
