Page 31 of Conflicted Fate
“Are you ready for this?”
My eyes snapped open as Kiel spoke, the first words we’d spoken in the better part of a day because of the faster nature of traveling in our wolf forms. My beast whined in my head, wanting to get closer to him as he stood there in the nude with wind whipping at his hair but otherwise unaffecting him.
Yes, he’s hot. But now isn’t the time for that.
More than just my wolf disagreed with that. It had been too long, my body told me. Too long since I’d experienced the strong, powerful lovemaking of the man I was falling brutally head-over-heels for. Was falling? Had fallen? Did it even matter anymore?
I shifted into my human form. The wind was far brisker than I’d realized, puckering my skin and making several things stand on end in the chill. Kiel’s eyes darted to my bared breasts, noting the tightness of my nipples, but he made no comment. His gazedidlinger, but only for a few seconds longer than was acceptable.
He’d seen it all before—and in a far different setting. So, really, what did I care?
“Not at all,” I admitted at last, finally answering his question and doing so truthfully.
There was no point in lying to Kiel or trying to put on a stoic front. He knew me too well by now. He would see right through my facade. Better to just tell him the truth and be open with him. Hopefully, it would foster the same in return. Though, that might have been wishful thinking.
He knew he cared for me. I knew he cared for me. He knew I knew, and I knew he knew that I knew. Around and around. Yet centuries of self-loathing, hatred, hearing the songs sung about him, about his people, the stories told, the legends of his monstrous nature, ate away at him. And much as I wanted to, it looked like it would be a long task to tear down the walls he’d built to keep everyone out.
Even if he wanted desperately to let me in. Which Ithinkhe did. It had just been so long that he’d forgottenhow.
“Jada,” he started to say before coming to a screeching halt as I lifted a hand to stop him.
Taking a deep breath, I let it—and as much anxiety as I could—flow out of me. “Just because I’m not ready for it, that I am, in truth,terrifiedof it, does not mean I’m not going to do it.”
Kiel’s eyes flashed with what I hoped was pride.
“I don’t want to,” I said bluntly. “But I will. As you said, this is the right thing to do. I didn’t do it the first time. I’m not going to fail myself, or Gare, a second time.”
He came closer, gripping me by the shoulder. “Good.”
I dipped my head in acknowledgment.
“I’m proud of you,” he added after a moment, his fingers digging into my shoulder a little as he gently massaged it.
“Thank you.”
His hand ceased moving. “For what? Being proud of you?”
I laughed softly. “No. That’s nice to hear, don’t get me wrong, but no. I was thanking you for something else. For not holding something I did in the past against me. Especially when I work to atone for that mistake.”
My eyes bored into his as I spoke, holding his gaze and not letting it go. I held it. And held it, not speaking, watching his face. Waiting.
The entire process played out in front of me. The tightening of the corners of his eyes as he realized I was sending a message with my comments. A mild unfocusing of his pupils as his brain worked to replay my words. The slight furrowing of his brow as he worked to understand my point. And then, realization.
Kiel’s eyebrows shot up, then came right back down, continuing past thethoughtfullevel and moving intofrownterritory.
“That is different,” he growled, dismissing my point with three stupid words. “Very different.”
“Is it?” I challenged as he shifted back into his wolf form. “Or are you just trying topretendit is?”
His only response was to leap away.
I shook my head at his departing form. “Sometimes, I wish the centaur had won,” I called after him.
An angry snarl echoed across the plains, bringing a smile to my face. Then I shifted and loped after him, following his scent at my own pace until I caught up with him three miles ahead and several hundred feet up the side of the mountain. It was more a very large hill, not having quite achieved the steepness of the mountain peak it would become, but it was close enough.
He waited at a slight leveling of the hill, which led up to a large boulder around which dirt had piled. Over time, that dirt had become home to grass and even a few bushes, anchoring the giant piece of rock in place to form a natural continuation of the hillside.
He waited until I was close, then walked straight into the boulder. I came to a halt, staring at where he’d disappeared. That was impossible. People couldn’t just disappear.
