"I… I think she does." Her toes brushed the edge of the stone lip—she didn’t dare cross it. "I don’t understand how I could feel safe with you, but apparently a part of me does." She stared at the ground as she spoke.
"You shouldn’t," Tharen lashed. "I don’t want to be your safety."
Loathing colored his words. She looked up and saw his eyes hard with denial.
He was lying. To himself—and to her.
"But I did."And maybe I still do,was what she didn’t add. "I think you care a great deal more than you’ll ever let on, Tharen." His name left her lips on a soft whisper, clear and light. "On the altar," she started, "you listened to me. You stopped when I asked you to." Her cheeks warmed in the cold.
"That wasn’t safety," Tharen growled. "That was me doing what I had to do. What you vowed to me. It was a transaction—and nothing more."
His words lanced against her, but she saw invisible shards of ice fall away from around him, loosening his shoulders and softening his eyes. She was getting somewhere.
Luella didn’t let up.
"No… it was youlistening. It was you caring for me, even when you could have hurt me. You didn’t."
Tharen stepped off the outlook, and with his height, he barely had to lift his foot to cross the stone lip. He came to a stop right before her, his chest nearly brushing her front with his every breath. He leaned down. "You’re wrong. It meant nothing."
She shook her head, eyes drifting to the wolves and Ven. Innocent creatures, finding solace in his midst. Though, it could be argued the wolves were not so innocent—she remembered the bloody maws and growls. They were like Tharen in a way. Tameless.
Until a creature needing protection appeared.
"So, it didn’t mean anything?" Luella asked. "If you are right, and itwasmeaningless, then I would not have wings." She stepped closer and swore that she felt her wings threaten to stretch out. She looked behind her, but found them stilltucked closely to her back. That only made her more fierce. "The existence of my wings proves that wrong, Tharen. I mean something to you, or none of this would have happened. You need to admit it to yourself."
She had already admitted that he meant something to her. Not of her own volition. No, it had been taken from her, as most things had. But at least it was in the open, between them—the truth of the glamor’s key.
His eyes burned with both rage…
And need.
He crossed the last bit of space between them, her chest pressing into his muscled stomach.
She didn’t retreat. Trembling, but she held herself steady.
Tharen’s hand touched her jaw roughly, and he gripped her chin, tilting her head up. "You’re a fool to trust me," he muttered.
"Then make me one," she whispered to him.
A snarl was etched into his face, tugging on the corner of his lips, and then, he kissed her.
Their lips crashed in a symphony of anger.
Tharen devoured her mouth with hunger and desperation. He tilted her head at the perfect angle, forcing her up onto her tiptoes to relieve the strain on her spine as he held her. He parted her lips with his, tongue seeking entry into her mouth. Angrily, his tongue swept inside—claiming her.
He sucked her breath from her lungs, swallowed it down, and left her bereft of air.
This was a true kiss. Nothing like the time he’d first taken her lips.
His hand tangled in her hair, the other moving from her face until he gripped her waist. Her palms landed on his chest, undone.
She couldn’t breathe.
She loved it.
Her head grew light, and still, she let him devour her, unwilling to break away.
When spots sparkled behind her closed lids and she wavered, wings drooping, the tips brushing his arm where it was wrapped around her, he broke away with a growl.
