“Doesn’t matter.”
“Are you certain? Are you—”
“Hot waffles!” she snaps. “Yeah, that’s right. Hot waffles. I said it, okay? I’m using my words because you need tostop. I can’t take another minute of you running me in circles until my head spins. Game over, I’m tapping out, I’m done.”
Fuck. She’s right. Of course she’s right, and once again, I’ve managed to hurt her. To reel her in close… and push her right back out again.
“Westlyn, wait. I… I don’t mean to play games.”
“Oh, really? Does that mean you’re ready to be fully honest with me now?”
“I’ve never lied to you.”
“Not lying is not the same thing as actuallyadmittingthe truth.”
“The truth about what?”
“Use your words, Draegan,” she taunts.
I say nothing.
She huffs out a breath and shakes her head, her eyes glazing. Sadness? Anger? Regret? It’s all so mixed up now I can’t tell the difference.
She turns to leave, but I grab her wrist.
“Let. Me. Go,” she grinds out, the hatred in her voice too much to bear, even for me.
I do as she asks and take a step backward, giving her space. Waiting her out. Waiting for her to turn back around, look up at me with those big, blue-green eyes, and crash right back into my arms.
But in the span of a few precious heartbeats, the little brat is stalking out of my bathroom, out of my suite, and slamming the door behind her so hard it makes my teeth rattle.
And here I remain, the honest words she so desperately needs to hear lodged uselessly in my throat.
I can’t stop touching you.
I can’t stop wanting you.
I can’t stop finding ways to be near you because I’m bloody well in love with you, Westlyn Avery, andthatshall be my undoing.
Chapter Thirty-Two
WESTLYN
Theincidentwith Draegan—yes, I’m calling it an incident; there’s no other word for what that infuriating man does—leaves me keyed up and wrung out in more ways than one.
I spend the next hour pacing in my room, indigo magic crackling in my palms. It’s darker tonight, restless, as if it can sense my mood.
It’s hungry, too. Eager to break something.
Not break, my moon. Devour…
I startle at the words as they slice through my mind, not recognizing them as my own conscious thoughts.
My moon?
Great. It’s bad enough the cold, cruel fae haunts my nightmares. Now I’ve got his evil voice whispering to me during waking hours, too?
Grabbing my amulet, I close my eyes and shake out my hands, desperate to shed this excess energy, this weird magic. The amulet warms against my skin, and when I open my eyes again, I find the darker magic dissipating, finally settling in to a faint glow at my fingertips.
