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She needed him to understand something she’d only come to terms with within the passing days while she laid in his bed, trapped inside her head. She’d finally accepted that resisting her destiny would only result in walking the same path as Cassian and Mira.
“Ronin, the situation we are in is my doing.” She placed her hand on her chest. “A sequence of events that led me to this place in my life. All due to my own decisions.”
“A series of decisions that were forced on you to escape a shitty situation, Naia. That no person should ever have to make for freedom.”
She blinked at him.
He continued to stare down at the porch. “I’ve always wanted a family of my own. It’s something I’ve dreamed of since the day I fell off that fucking boat and crossed paths with you. I was only twelve, but you captivated me. You stuck with me, and there wasn’t a day that passed that I didn’t think of you. As I got older, I tried to erase you from my mind, but you always lingered.
“And then I was called back home for my father’s funeral, pissed at the world—at the gods, at our family’s fucking blood for taking my mom away from us, and how much her death broke my father’s heart. I went out on his boat to feel a sense of closeness to the childhood I left behind, to the parents I’d lost, and I thought of you. If I were to jump into the sea, would you save me again? No matter where I went, the life I built for myself, I couldn’t run away from this constant need to find you. Imagine my surprise when I was walking home later that night and spotted you on the shore.” A humorless laugh bubbled out of him, and he ran his fingers through the loose strands framing his face.
He had been compelled to find her. Just as she had a strong sense to venture into the Mortal Land. The moment she met Kaleo, the craving to leave her footprints in their soil vanished. Just as her urgency to run had when she’d woken up in the Kahale house with Akane. Perhaps her longing to explore the Mortal Land was simply to find him, her other half.
“I am sorry.” A lump swelled in her throat, tears burned the back of her nose. “I am sorry the gods are ruining this experience of having a family for you, but I promise, Ronin, it will hap?—”
“You’re right. I am furious with the gods.” He turned to look at her then, eyes blazing. “Always have been, but especially since I found you that day, and all the shit you showed me in your memories. I am holding on by a thread not to tear the world apart and ravage them all, one by one, for what they’ve done to you, and what they continue to do to you—to us. I would kill them all for it, even with my child’s blood.”
Her breath caught. “Ronin, what did you just say?”
“The High God of Death and Curses is not taking our child,” he said with a grim finality. “You are not leaving this island to protect me. And I am not dying anytime soon.”
It was in his resolve—a ferocious passion and futile confidence crystallizing in the hollow of his eyes as they pierced right through her. A formidable force, daring anyone to challenge him. He reminded her of Finnian in that way, leaving her in awe and terrified of the consequences.
As she struggled to think of a way to break the curse, he had been doing the same. Except, unlike her, he’d figured out a solution.
“You are going to use our child’s blood to kill him when he comes to collect.” Naia straightened up in her chair, her pulse thundering. “He is a High God, Ronin. We are no match against him. I will break the curse. Let me find a way. Please?”
In the end, his plan would only get him killed. Cassian would not have mercy on a mortal who stood against him, much less defy the rules of his curse.
Ronin fished a small glass vial from his pocket and popped off the lid. He downed the contents of the vial in one swig and then ripped the needle out of his arm and stood up.
Naia lunged for the jar filled with his blood before he could grab it.
“What are you doing?” he grumbled, glaring down at her. “Give me the jar, Naia.”
She hugged the glass of blood to her chest like a defiant child. “We do this together,” she reminded him. “You cannot make plans without me.”
He leaned over her and propped himself up on the arms of her chair. “Do you have any ideas on how to break this curse?” The scent of spearmint and cloves on his breath from the potion wafted across her face.
His tone was genuine, not at all meant to be patronizing, but Naia couldn’t help interpreting it that way.
Through gritted teeth, she said, “I will find a way.”
“I have all the faith in the world in you, babe.” His voice softened, and his fingers came up to brush her cheek. “But come nine months, if we cannot figure out a way to break it, we are doing things my way.”
We, at least, meant he would help her. Together.
You will not do this alone, he had told her a few days ago.
As an act of surrender, Naia placed the jar back down on the porch by her foot. The intensity of her anger from his stubbornness still buzzed underneath her skin, and yet she yearned to kiss him.
His vow was a declaration of his adoration—for her, for their child. A promise to love and stand beside her, regardless of the consequences he would face. It was an attempt to hold on to their blissful, distant image of peace after lifetimes of their souls searching for each other. Naia held equal parts cynicism and hope in her belief that life could be so kind.
“Okay,” she agreed.
He moved in and brushed his lips against hers, unfurling a heat in her core.
How fascinating it was to be furious and in love with someone at the same time.
