Page 104 of The Demon Crown

He finally blurted the words out. He let them tear from his very soul and land at her feet like he’d torn out his own heart. It wasn’t likely what she wanted to hear. It wasn’t the pretty words he’d heard Ivo wax on about his lovely redheaded gardener, or the words that Lust had said to his bride. But they were words.

Words that she’d asked for. And damn it, he was trying.

Though she clearly had no idea where this came from—honestly, he didn’t either—Varya kept her gaze on his face. He couldn’t read the expression that flickered across her features, or understand why she reached out her hand and placed it softly on his forearm. She held her hand there, her thumb smoothing over his arm.

And her eyes softened, the same way Lust’s always did, as she asked, “What happened to her?”

“To who?”

“The woman that Lust fell in love with.”

Ah, of course. The woman who had almost died and torn his brother’s heart from his chest. This was the harder part than admitting his feelings to her.

Greed swallowed hard. “He gave her a spirit to keep her alive. A spirit of affection, a good fit for her, though some might argue otherwise. It sacrificed itself, possessing her body but allowing her full control over their shared form. That act of sacrifice saved her life, and she is still alive today. Immortal and with him for the rest of their days.”

Did she understand what he was trying to tell her? Could she understand that he needed her to be here, uninjured and not in pain, no matter where he was or how far she strayed from him?

This wasn’t a gift, he realized. It was a desperate attempt at self preservation because if she said no to him, he feared he would implode.

Reaching into the bag around his waist, he drew out the jar where the adventure spirit still remained. It had gotten stronger, although not by much. Her old village wasn’t quite as full of adventurous spirits as he’d thought. Still, it was better than it had been when they’d first found it. And the little thing was pulsing with excitement at having a body.

“This is for you,” he breathed, handing the jar over to her.

His body vibrated as she lifted it up to the sun and stared into the green mist.

“What is it?” Varya asked.

“A spirit of adventure. A weak one, unfortunately, but I think it’s a good match. For a woman who travels across the sands, seeking out magical artifacts in ancient tombs, I believe the two of you will get along quite well.” He could only hope, at least. Otherwise, he’d need to find her another, and this one had been hard enough to find.

“Why did you bring me a spirit?” Apparently, he hadn’t been as explicit as he thought he had.

Greed took a deep, steadying breath. “You are dying. All humans are. Every day brings you closer and closer to death. Perhaps I am a selfish ass, as you’ve pointed out before. But I cannot let you die, Varya. Not when you mean so much to me. Not when I have the ability to help.”

With a slow sigh, she lowered the jar and held it closer to her chest. The spirit was already knocking against the glass, struggling to get a little closer to her. “Greed. I can’t take this.”

“I will not give you a choice if it comes to that. I want you to choose this, Varya, but...” He couldn’t. He couldn’t force her. That would be the stupidest thing he’d ever done. She’d hate him for the rest of his days, but maybe he would take that. It was better than nothing from her at all.

Her expression hardened. “You want me to kill a spirit?”

“It will not die. They live on in you. They see through your eyes, experience through your actions. It will still feed off of your emotions, but it will be safer than it was rolling around in that desert with no food at all.” He took the risk. Greed stepped closer to her, cupping her cheek in his hand as though just that touch might anchor them together. “Please, Varya. I cannot lose you.”

He saw her break. The resolve in her to not harm the spirit crumbled at his begging. And he would do so if she required him to get onto his knees because, for the first time in his life, he realized that he was terrified of losing someone else. Not just an object, but a person.

Greed pulled her closer to him, wrapping an arm around her waist and cupping the back of her head with his free hand. The jar pressed against his ribs, the pain anchoring him to this moment. “You are so fragile. So delicate. And I know you don’t want to hear that because you are one of the strongest women I have ever met, but you are just human, Varya. A plague could kill you in an instant. A wound that goes sour. A fall from a cliff edge or a tomb that outwits you. The fear for your life has consumed me and I cannot endure the pain any longer. I need you here with me.”

“Why?” she whispered, her eyes glimmering with what he hoped weren’t tears. “Why do you need me here?”

He pressed their foreheads together, soaking in the feel of her. It had been too long since he’d been able to touch her. To feel the power of her body rolling against his own. “I just do. I cannot explain it, Varya, but I do.”

Perhaps it wasn’t enough. Perhaps she needed to hear him say the words that he feared weren’t the truth. He was Greed. A demon king. He couldn’t love anyone but himself, unless loving her could change him. Just as it had changed Lust.

She took a deep, steadying breath, and then he felt her nod against him. “All right.”

“All right?” He leaned back to be sure. “You’ll do it?”

“Yes.” Again she nodded, staring down at the jar still clutched in her hands. “I don’t know how, though.”

“I do.” Thankfully.

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