Page 53 of Yearning For Her

Though her words only confirmed his suspicions, they were no easier to hear. Each was like a vise being clamped around his chest, making it harder to breathe, making his heartbeat falter and slow.

Fear. He’d spent his entire existence focused on desire and pleasure. Never once had he considered inflicting fear, never once had he wanted to be feared, not even in those bygone days when Lachlan had tried to persuade him toward it.

Yet it might not have bothered him so much were she anyone else.

With a slow exhalation, he willed his glamour back into place and dissipated his wings. The area around him dimmed. Only in its absence did he recognize the amount of light he emitted in his true form. Willow must have noticed too, because she looked up at him then, flicking her gaze over his face.

“I’m not scared of you,” she hurriedly said, “or your appearance. I'm not scared of what you are, either, not exactly. But I am scared of what that means, and of...of how intense things are with you. I’m scared of…what I feel when I’m with you.”

“Ah, Willow.” Something shifted deep within him, something warm and strangely soothing.

She dropped her gaze again, brow furrowed. “It’s like I’m drowning, and every time I reach the surface, I can’t draw in enough air. But when I go back under, I…I want to fight it a little less. I want to succumb, to just let go and let that water close in around me. What I feel with you is deeper and more powerful than anything I’ve ever felt before. It’s frightening. Because I know the more I feel…the more it’s going to hurt.”

Willow’s turmoil, her tumultuous, conflicting emotions, suffused him, and the cold won out over his inner heat. This wasn’t how he was supposed to make anyone feel, especially not his mate. But what could he do to comfort her? What could he say to put her at ease?

This isn’t all just because of me. The scars she carries… Eli, and the others before him. They left those there.

The anger that soured his gut at that realization would do neither Kian nor Willow any good. It was useless, impotent, the perfect emotion to encompass how he felt just then.

He turned away from her to gather his clothing, pulling on his shirt and vest without bothering to button them. Having his back toward her didn’t shield him from her feelings. When he was done, he faced Willow again, crouched to collect the fallen coat, and closed the distance between them in a few slow, deliberate steps.

Gently, he swept the coat over her shoulders before curling a finger beneath her chin to tilt her face up. He searched her gaze, unsure of what he sought, wishing he had the right words to say. None came.

So he spoke in a different way, leaning down to brush his lips against her forehead. She shivered.

Lowering his hand, he grasped the lapels of the coat and drew them together, pulling the garment more snugly around her. “Let’s get you home, Violet.”

They returned to the car in silence, and that silence continued as Kian drove along the winding, wooded roads that led back into the city. So many times, his lips parted, and words danced on the tip of his tongue, but no sound emerged. How could he assuage her fears when he was just as uncertain? All this was new to him as well.

His world was irrevocably changed, and he didn’t know how to navigate these feelings. He didn’t know anything about relationships. For him, everything had been about instant gratification, about bursts of pleasure. Making someone feel good physically was a simple matter, one in which he was well-versed. Of course, it had helped that his survival was linked to his ability to give pleasure.

But making someone happy? Making them feel content, whole, fulfilled, making them feel secure…

He didn’t know how the fuck to do all that.

Too soon, they arrived at Willow’s house. As he pulled up to the curb, a pang of sadness seized his chest. He squeezed the steering wheel.

For the first time in his existence, he was distraught at the thought of parting with a mortal. How many had he left behind? But he didn’t want Willow to go, didn’t want her to leave him.

Not that I’ll allow it. She’s fucking mine.

“I’m sorry if I ruined the night,” she said.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he replied. “I enjoyed your company. And the cheeseburger.”

A little laugh escaped her as she looked at him. “I doubt you tasted it with how fast you shoved it in your mouth.”

He smiled, thrilling in the bit of joy she emanated. “I’ll take it slow next time.”

“Thank you for the not-date, Kian.” She leaned toward him and pressed her lips to his cheek.

The kiss was chaste, sweet, and over before he’d had time to process its meaning. Her eyes met his as she drew back with a smile. After unbuckling her seatbelt, Willow opened the door and stepped out of the car with her purse in hand. She shrugged off his coat, folded it over her arm, and laid it on the seat. “Good night.”

“Good night, Willow.” His cheek tingled with the memory of the kiss as she closed the door and walked toward her house. He watched her, transfixed, his mind racing but oddly quiet.

Every one of her steps amplified his urge to follow her. He clutched the steering wheel, forcing himself to remain in place, to puzzle out what that kiss had meant. It had been so tender, so affectionate, so warm, unlike any kiss he’d ever received.

She opened her front door and slipped inside. Just before she shut it, she peeked out at him, and their eyes met again.

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