But Aren is Aren, and even though he’s now part of the Realm’s legitimate government, in his heart, he’s still a rebel.
“I’m fissuring out,” he says. “If you choose to do so as well, then you’re the one who’ll be leaving her alone.”
A slash of white light slices through the air beside him.
“Wait!” Kyol barks. “Just get her out of the city. I’ll meet you within view of Tholm’s westernmost building.”
Then, before Aren can step into his fissure, Kyol opens one of his own and disappears.
Aren curses.
“I’m not that repulsive, am I?” I ask lightly.
Aren’s gaze slides to me, and the way his silver eyes peer out beneath his dark lashes says my words are ridiculous. I just give him a tiny shrug, wrap my arms around my now-shivering body, and start walking.
“Did you really need to get rid of your shoes and cloak?” Aren asks, falling into step beside me. He’s looking at my bare feet. Throwing off my shoes wasn’t a mistake—my toes were already numb, and I get better traction without them—but losing the cloak might have been.
I don’t admit to it, though. Instead, I say, “You took off your cloak.”
“It’s easier to move without it.”
“Exactly.”
“Besides,” he says, “I can keep warm.”
“If you’d like to keep me warm, you can start any time.”
Even in the darkness, there’s a glimmer in his silver eyes when he looks at me. “You’re determined to make this difficult, aren’t you?”
We step onto a curved stone bridge. “If you’re referring to you dumping me, then yes. I am.”
“Did you make it this difficult for Taltrayn?”
“I—” The question surprises me, and I’m not sure how to answer. With Kyol, I knew the reason he kept his distance. I even respected it, and in the beginning, I believed that human culture was damaging the Realm. Over the years, I started to doubt that, but I never started to doubt Kyol. He was noble, a man of his word, and each time he told me we couldn’t be together, I tried to move on.
I look at Aren as the bridge takes us across a canal. I have no desire to move on now.
“I didn’t make it easy,” I finally say, focusing on the long passageway in front of us. We’re near the edge of the city. The homes are larger, the storefronts aren’t smashed together quite as much, and even though dawn is still hours away, the shadows between the buildings don’t seem as dark here.
It’s still cold as hell, though, and Aren hasn’t moved one inch closer to me.
I stop walking and turn toward him. “Will you just tell me what’s wrong?”
He faces me and, almost reluctantly, meets my eyes.
“I don’t understand why you’re here,” he says. “You have the normal life you always wanted.”
Not breaking his gaze, I tilt my head to the side. “Don’t you know? I could never be a normal human.”
The smile that spreads across his face tells me he recognizes the words. He said them to me two months ago, right after the vigilantes attacked the inn in Germany. I was still fighting my attraction to him, still clinging to the hope that I was shadow-reading for a good and honest king.
“Look,” I say. “You said I needed time to understand the life-bond. It’s been almost a month. I get it. Kyol’s in my head, but we’re in the same world, and I’m not throwing myself into his arms.”
“You’re not,” he says, “but you want to.”
“God, just . . . just stop telling me what I want! And don’t give up on us so easily.”
“You think this is easy?” he says, agitation sliding into his voice. “Do you think I like knowing that he knows where you are every second of the day? That he knows when you’re in trouble, when you’re sad or scared?” He grabs my arms then gently pushes me back against a stone façade. “He knows when you’re aroused, McKenzie.” His head dips, bringing his lips closer to mine. “He knows when we touch, when we kiss. He’ll know if we make love. Do you want that? Can you handle hurting him like that?”
“I can control it,” I say, my gaze locked on his lips. “I’ll find a way to control it.”
He chuckles, low and sexy, as he eases closer to me, and whispers in my ear, “The last thing I want you to have when you’re with me is control.”
I’m not cold anymore. My body flushes with heat at his words. I turn my face toward him as he backs away. He’s still holding on to me, but any second he could let go and leave.
“Your lips are blue,” he says softly.
“There’s a solution for that.”
His gaze meets mine again, and my stomach flips. Even rain-drenched and in shadows, he’s gorgeous. He’s fully dressed, and the air is cold, but he looks like he’s just stepped out of a steamy shower. His hair is darker than normal, the wet locks curling slightly at the ends, making him look haphazard and sexy.
He swallows. “Please, McKenzie. I’m trying to do the right thing.”
That’s one of the reasons I love him. He’s trying to undo a past that he regrets. He’s trying to be a good man, and I think that might be why he’s pushing me away. Fae respect the sanctity of a life-bond more than humans respect the sanctity of marriage, and in his mind, even touching me is a violation of the connection I have with Kyol.
But Naito and Kelia didn’t care about that. Right now, I don’t either. I grab the top of Aren’s cuirass and pull him closer. “I am the right thing, Aren.”
I thought my lips were numb. They aren’t. They feel the firm, delicious pressure of Aren’s mouth. The magic he’s using to keep himself warm rushes into me, and chaos lusters fire across my skin, so sudden and hot, I lurch into him. I feel him shake, too, and he grips me tighter, one hand in my wet hair, the other moving down my back. His palm curves over my butt, pulling me firmly against him.
Jaedric protects both our torsos. I want so much to remove his, to run my hands over the hard planes of his chest and down the ridges of his stomach. I’ve seen him shirtless. I want to feel him shirtless. Naked and hot and lit by my chaos lusters.
He nips my lower lip, then sucks it between his teeth, but even as he does that, deepening the kiss in a way that draws a moan from me, I feel him holding back.
I reach up, intending to fist my hand in his hair, but he intercepts me, grabbing my wrist as he breaks the kiss.
“I can’t,” he whispers.
“We can, Aren. Please.”
“No, it would be . . . I just can’t. I’m sorry.” He wraps his arms around me and rests his chin on my head, ending any opportunity for me to reinitiate the kiss. My cheek presses against his chest, and I listen to the steady thump of his heart.
“I’ll find a way to sever the life-bond,” I tell him.
“There’s only one way for it to end, McKenzie,” he says, and the pain in his voice is like a sword through the gut.
I close my eyes and bite my lower lip as I soak in his warmth. His words can’t be true. I refuse to believe them because, if they are, then the only way to gain freedom from Kyol is for one of us to die.
TEN
AREN AND I don’t speak or touch the rest of the way through Tholm. Kyol fissures to the city when we reach the western edge of it. I don’t know if that’s a coincidence, or if he felt when I started searching for him. He’s not alone. Trev and Nalst, a fae I’ve worked with before, are with him. The look Trev gives me says he’s not here by choice, and I’m beginning to think his presence is a punishment from Lena. Whether she’s punishing him or me, though, I don’t know.
Kyol’s mouth tightens when he sees me. He knew I was cold, but seeing me shoeless and soaked makes him angry. Without sparing Aren so much as a glance, he holds out a cloak. It’s folded up into a square package that’s fat enough to hold a pair of shoes and dry clothes.