Page 78 of Yearning For Her

He glanced at her. She’d gone quiet after thanking him, and now sat with her arms wrapped around her purse and her legs tight together, like she was trying to make herself as small as possible.

A deep ache ran through his chest. Fury and vengeance wouldn’t help her now. All his drive to protect her, to seek justice for what Lachlan had done, was useless. It wouldn’t change what he was seeing now. It couldn’t change what she was feeling.

Even the night they’d met, when her long-term relationship had come to an abrupt, unhappy end, Willow hadn’t been this distraught. Three years of Eli hadn’t done even a fraction of the damage Lachlan had inflicted in a few short minutes.

Clenching his teeth, he turned onto her street. They’d be at her house in moments. And then what? What could he do for her, how could he help her? He didn’t know how to comfort mortals, didn’t know what words would ease their anguish. He was an immortal fae, an incubus. He knew how to fuck. These feelings… They were new. The torrent of emotions swirling in the car, overwhelmingly potent despite being unspoken, would be impossible to sort. He wasn’t even sure where her feelings ended and his own began.

He knew only that he would not quit. He would find a way. He had to find a way.

Once the car was parked in her driveway, he exited the vehicle and hurried to her side. She was already climbing out when he reached her. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked up at him.

Blood—his blood—stained her cheeks where he had touched her earlier, standing out starkly against her pale skin despite having been diluted by her tears. She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand before hugging her purse to her chest again.

Kian put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her against him, and walked her to the front door. She dug her keys out of her purse. They jingled in her shaking hand as she unlocked the door and pushed it open. Kian stepped inside with her.

Security. She needs to feel safe.

His mind raced, and a flood of thoughts that would be of no help threatened to claw their way to the surface, but he somehow held them down. Pausing, he turned and locked the door behind them, including the deadbolt and the chain.

It wouldn’t stop a determined fae, but short of finding someone capable of casting warding spells throughout the house, it was the best he could do.

Willow dropped her purse on the arm of the sofa. She stood there, shoulders curled in, rubbing a hand along her bare arm. The bright, carefree woman he’d come to know was nowhere to be seen now.

She looked up at him. “I…I need to take a shower.”

Though reluctant to let her out of his sight, Kian forced himself to nod. “Go ahead. I’ll be here, Violet.”

He watched as she disappeared into her bedroom. With a frustrated groan, he ran his hand through his hair. When he lowered it, he noticed the blood dried upon his fingers.

“Fuck.”

Kian took a step forward only to falter when he noticed something else. All three of Willow’s cats had gathered outside her bedroom, where they sat side-by-side, staring at him. Not just staring, but doing so in the only way of which cats seemed capable—judgmentally.

“I haven’t forgotten our agreement,” he said. “I did not harm her.”

The orange cat, Loki, swept his tail to the side and blinked. None of the felines moved otherwise.

With a huff, Kian strode to the guest bathroom. He turned on the hot water and examined himself in the mirror.

His shirt had been pulled loose and sported a few tears. Subtle darker spots on the black fabric stood out to his keen eyes. Blood. Mostly Lachlan’s, but that didn’t ease Kian’s resurging anger.

He hastily tugged off his rings and scrubbed the blood off them beneath the hot water. After setting them aside, he removed his shirt, wadded it up, and tossed it onto the counter. He washed his hands, face, and chest, using a potentially excessive amount of hand soap in the process. As the bubbly, red-tinged water swirled down the drain, he couldn’t stop his thoughts from tumbling along paths he’d been struggling to avoid.

But you’re like him. That…that’s how you feed.

Grasping the edge of the counter, he leaned over it. Tension locked his muscles.

I’m not like him. I’m not…a monster.

Yet hadn’t Kian used his charm on countless humans? Hadn’t he preyed upon their desires, manipulated them with magic, and pushed them to do things they wouldn’t likely have chosen to do with clear minds? Hadn’t he used his power to influence their thoughts just enough to suit his needs?

Before Willow, he’d never had to face the repercussions of what his kind did to mortals. He’d never had to witness what that magic could do to them. He’d never considered the violation, the disgust, they endured. He’d never imagined the trauma of having one’s control stripped away. Of becoming slave to desire.

That’s not exactly honest, is it?

Because he had seen some of those repercussions. He had witnessed the violation, the degradation, the cruelty. He’d seen humans have their free will stripped away. And gods, he’d felt it down in his soul. It had thrown his memories right back to Tulthiras, back to the very fae overlords from whom he’d fled to begin with. Back to the beings who’d sought to take Kian’s free will.

But he’d chosen to look away. He’d chosen to pretend it didn’t matter, because he wasn’t the one doing it.

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