A tiny shake of her head, and she lowers her gaze to the floor, staring at a dark spot in the wood for so long I wonder if it might ignite.
After what feels like an age, she finally meets my gaze again.
In a small, hoarse voice, she says, “How many times have you saved me?”
I fold my arms over my chest and sigh.
“How many?” she presses. “Ballpark.”
When I can’t produce a number for her, she says, “Yeah, I lost count too. Lost count of how many times you saved mylife, Draegan. My life! So if you think I want you to risk yours on some suicide mission against your oldest foe, you can go fuck yourself right into the nearest snowbank, because I—”
“Westlyn, you don’t understand! Never mind my past with him. The fact is, Verrick will never stop being a threat to you. Hunting you. That isallthe reason I need to tear out his fucking heart.”
She closes the distance between us again and I brace myself for another jab to the chest, another barrage of angry words.
But her face falls, a sad but gentle smile touching her lips, and she places her palm on my cheek, surprising me with the warmth of her touch.
“I love you,” she whispers, and the raw simplicity of the declaration nearly bowls me over. “And that’s all the reasonIneed to ask you, one last time, not to walk out those doors. Stay with me, Draegan Caldwell. Please stay.”
She brushes her thumb across my lips, then turns and walks out of the room with my whole heart in her hands, her retreating form little more than a blur through the shock of tears in my eyes.
Chapter Fourteen
DRAEGAN
I don’t know how long I stare out the window, frozen with guilt and indecision and an aching heart, when I feel another presence behind me.
“What is it, Jude?” I ask softly, not turning from the window.
After the conversation I had with Westlyn, I’ve got no fight in me for another sparring match, especially not with the gargoyle who best knows how to get under my skin.
The ropes beneath the bedding creak as he takes a seat. There’s a rustling, then the flick of a lighter, the crackle of a cigarette flaring to life.
“I know what you’re thinking about,” he finally says, smoke lacing the air. “What you’re feeling.”
“Oh, really?” I laugh. “Care to enlighten me, then? I seem to be having a bit of trouble sorting it all out for myself.”
Another crackle. A deep exhale.
“What happened with Verrick,” Jude says softly, “the bloody wars, the bloodier aftermath, this fucking curse… For fuck’s sake, Draegan. None of it was your fault.”
Outside, dark clouds slide across the moon, blanketing the snowy lands in darkness.
“I led you into a losing war and gave you a death sentence,” I say simply, because that’s the honest truth. “All of you. I’mstillgiving you—”
“You gave ushope. And while you can certainly be a right pain in the arse on the best of days, you’re also my fucking brother, and I’ve let you carry this burden for far too long. It was never yours to bear, but you did it anyway, and we let you. We fucking let you, Drae, andthatis my one true regret in life. Not that I fought by your side. Not that I sacrificed everything for a losing war. Not that I’m cursed. But that when the dust finally settled and we realized everything we’d ever known and loved was gone,youpicked up that shame, and I stood by and let you carry it off. You’restillcarrying it, and I’m trying to tell you… Fucking hell, Draegan. Let it go.”
His words cut me right to the core, hollowing me out inside, but he’s not done yet.
“I’m not just talking about the war and the curse, either,” he continues. “I’m talking aboutallof it. Westlyn. Rook. FuckingVerrick. The way everything went tits up before our eyes tonight and all we could do was just stand there with our dicks in our hands… It’s a bloody damn mess, yeah. But our girl’s right. You can’t fight him alone. We’re all stronger—and smarter—when we stick together. Going off half-cocked is the surest way to end up ashes in a box, and after what happened to Rook, I’mdamnwell not gonna stand by and watch you sign yourowndeath warrant just because you’re convinced you’ve signed ours.” He pats the bedding beside him. “So come over here and take a load off, or I’ll be forced to take it off for you, and I’d really rather not. I’ve only just gotten the last of the mage blood out from under my claws.”
I manage a weak laugh at that. Then, with a heavy sigh, I finally turn away from the window and join him on the bed, stealing his pack of witchweed smokes.
I pluck the cigarette from between his lips and use it to light my own, then hand it back, taking a deep drag. I haven’t smoked in years, and the effects are immediate, my head already swimming with a pleasant, mellow buzz.
“Was a time when you would’ve relished the idea of me going off on a suicide mission,” I say, exhaling a plume of smoke.
Jude looks at me as if I’ve just hit him, and it takes me a hazy beat to realize he’s actually affronted.
