She cried.
I close my eyes and inhale deeply, holding it. Then I release on the count of four. Again. And again. A damn breathing exercise for my raging emotions.
Then I open my eyes again—only to find Roran standing too damn close.
Too close. Fuck.
“Take one more step, and you’ll have to bear the consequences.” I warn.
I should step back, but I’m glued in place by those—surprisingly—curious, wide blue eyes.
Not fear. Not disgust. Just a steady, studying gaze that tears at something deep in me.
“Are you afraid of a woman? Of me touching you?” Her eyes lift from my glowing marks to mine.
“You didn’t answer me. Why is your body glowing?” she whispers when I don't answer, a small gasp catching in her throat as she takes another step closer. That same spark of curiosity still dancing in her stare.
My nostrils flare as I inhale deep, trying to lock the energy down with everything I’ve got.
Bay, hurry the fuck up.“Myko, where are you?”
I can’t let her touch me.
I can’t let her close.
I won’t let her get hurt.
“Roran.”
Her name comes through clenched teeth as I breathe through my nose, feeling the pulses of energy rising—louder, hotter. “Touch me, and you’ll learn why they fear my bloodline.”
It sounds more like a threat than a warning, but I don't bother to correct it.
She flinches, finally stepping back. I exhale deeply.
Good.
But her hand stays in the air a second too long, hovering like she almost touched fire.
She did. Almost.
“What are you?” she breathes, after a second that drags too long.
“Your worst death if you touch me. Stay away.”
I try to keep my voice even, but the way her eyes cut through me feels like a punch to the gut—so I find myself adding, “Please.”
Her breath hitches, and something shifts in her gaze—hurt.
“You’re the one who took me in.”
Don’t I fucking know it?
“Save Diana, and I swear I’ll stay out of your way. I’ll work wherever you put us. I won’t get involved in your business. I promise.”
Now she’s avoiding my eyes, and I don’t know why, but the burn in my chest is worse than the sting of my marks.
“You’re not doing this shit anymore,” I say, changing the subject before I say something I’ll regret—another promise I might not be able to keep.
