Aren stands a few feet away. His hands are shoved into his pockets, and his hair is a wild, disheveled mess, but he’s no longer covered in blood, sweat, and dirt. He looks tired, though. Tired and maybe a little apprehensive.
He speaks before I’m able to make my voice cooperate. “If I were a good man,” he says, “I’d acknowledge that Taltrayn is an honorable fae, that he loves you and would take care of you. I’d step down and let you have the man you’ve always wanted, but, McKenzie, I’m not as good as Taltrayn. I never will be, and I can’t step down. I’ll fight for the chance to be with you.”
Those are words I waited a decade to hear from Kyol. But in all that time, I never prepared an answer to them. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to tell Aren that I need to see if we can be something together.
The way he draws in his next breath seems strained and his gaze flickers to the wall before returning to me. “I know we didn’t get off to a good start.” He lets out a laugh. “I know you hated me and I threatened you and provoked you, but we could start over. I wouldn’t hurt you again. Sidhe, I swear I’d never hold a sword to your throat. I’d protect you. I’d make sure you never had to jump out another window, and I’d . . .”
I’m tempted to let him continue, but he’s rambling, and that’s so unlike him I can’t help but smile. He stops midsentence.
“McKenzie?”
“I might give you another chance,” I say.
His gaze moves from my eyes to my lips. He focuses on them as if he’s not sure he heard me correctly. Then a grin pulls at the corner of his mouth.
“Might?” He laughs. “I’ve always said you were stubborn, nalkin-shom.”
He approaches me then. There are still issues between us, things we need to discuss and disagreements we need to work out, but my heart thumps when his fingertips graze my cheek. It’s a light, tender touch, there just long enough to warm my face. He moves closer. I feel the heat of his body, smell cedar and cinnamon, and my lips suddenly ache to feel his. They’re so close. If he lowers his head one millimeter more . . .
“I love you,” Aren whispers.
I shiver when something hot strikes through me. Not an edarratae; it’s something deeper, more potent and powerful. He must feel it, too, because he captures my mouth in the next instant. The kiss is possessive, desperate, and delicious. He doesn’t hold back or let it end. He pulls me up in his arms until only the toes of my shoes touch the ground. I hold on, return his kiss, and flush with heat as chaos lusters fire through my skin. They coil around us both, melding us together, as the world fades away.