Page 161 of Kissed By the Gods
The words linger between us, and then, without hesitation, he does. There’s a sudden release of pressure, like a breath exhaled all at once. His barrier that holds enemy forces at bay and wraps around his own mind constantly, collapses. And there he is.
Not the warrior. Not the protector.Him.
And he’s wrecked.
His grief spills out first. It coils through him like smoke—thin, choking, endless. Guilt gnaws at him from the inside out, and shame has etched into his bones.
But there’s more.
A wild protectiveness hovers beneath the surface. Anxiety tangles with purpose. And fear and fury root through it all.
And then … there’s something else. Something that flares so bright and bold I nearly flinch from it. It’s want. No, not want.Love. Raw, relentless, unspoken love. It pulses in him, terrifying and vast, the kind of feeling that makes gods and mortals alike crumble.
And it’s too much. Too real. Too tender for someone like me who’s still learning not to flinch at kindness. I look away from it. Not because I don’t want it—but because I do.
Maybe it’s not the moonlight making him soft. Maybe it’s me.
I still grieve for Levvi. For Alden. I always will. Some things never stop aching. But tonight isn’t for grief or ghosts. Tonight is for something else—something that dares to hope we might still have a future, even after everything.
I close my eyes and sink into myself.
I picture the familiar shield I started building before I ever met him. My strength. My solitude. My survival. But what I feelnow doesn’t belong in the dark. It doesn’t need hiding. So, I part the dark Veil wrapped tightly around my mind.
No shields. No walls. Nothing between us except for everything we are, laid bare.
I pour it out into him—every broken, messy thing inside me. The ugly. The aching. The beautiful. Anxiety. Fear. Shame. Insecurity. Want. Hope. Longing. Gratitude.Trust.
And then, at the center of it all—love.
He doesn’t hesitate. His arms wrap around me in one desperate motion and he crushes me against him, like he needs my heartbeat to steady his own. He buries his face in my hair and breathes me in like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.
Then he raises that shield again, not between us, but around us like a sanctuary. The rush of the waterfall, the rustle of night, even the silver moonlight—all of it goes still.
We are alone with the beating of our hearts. The smell of cinnamon and lavender. The heat of his arms. The breath we share.
Just us.
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers into the hush, and there’s real terror in his voice.
I don’t pull away, nor do I let him retreat.
“My mother used to say that love isn’t a prize you win for being perfect or a currency traded for good behavior,” I say.
His arms tighten around me.
“It’s messy. Imperfect. Deeply human. It’s about seeing someone—not as they should be, but as they are—and choosing them anyway.”
“I choose you, Leina Haverlyn,” he tells me.
And that one sentence tells me everything.
I crash my lips against his, and he pushes me back against the rough sandstone wall. I like it. I like knowing I’ll be marked tomorrow. Marked by him. I climb him, trying to get closer andcloser, still. I hop up, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. I smile against his lips.
“Why do we always end up like this?” I ask him.
He draws back, laughing breathlessly. “Because you’re an enchantress,” he murmurs.
He softens the edges of his shield, enough to let the world back in. A sliver of moonlight spills into our bubble of stillness, brushing silver across his face, catching in his lashes. The distant rush of the waterfall hums.
