She was so pretty, and he was so,sostupid.
How had he let this happen? Where had his self-control gone?
She had to be the biggest mistake he’d ever made. Anna Ainslan wasn’t the kind of woman a man should fuck around with. Crossing her was definitely hazardous to his health. What exactly had he been thinking, casually jumping into bed with a pixie?
Avirginalpixie.
Hehadn’tbeen thinking. Obviously.
We make more sense than anything else in my life.
Fucking hell. The woman was so painfully innocent. She had lodged herself like a splinter somewhere between his ribs, uncomfortable. He’d entertained a fleeting hope thatthis would dislodge her. He’d had her now. Knew the intimate facets of her. Conquest achieved. That was enough.
But was there ever reallyenoughwhen it came to women like her? Women who clung to the vital parts, like the heart?
Velcro girls.
Hadn’t she flat-out admitted she didn’t want to be associated with him yesterday?
You wouldn’t tell anyone, would you? About us?
What had changed her mind? She was ashamed of her link to him but still let him inside her body…multiple times.
Fucking pixie genetics and their emotion-keyed sex drives. How was he supposed to interpret this? Did shelikehim? Something here didn’t quite add up. Especially when she ran around saying things likeThey don’t deserve you.
As if he held inherent value. Mattered.
She knew his past, knew his present and his supposed future, and she still defended him? It made zero sense. He despised that she’d traipsed her way into this part of him that cared, especially when she’d likely wake from this debacle with a crushing sense of pixie shame for having succumbed to akeila. The last thing he wanted was to drag her into his mud.
From the moment David had discovered his ancestry, the air around him had been a cage, suffocating and invisible. Isobel’s meddling—with his literal soul, of all things—had narrowed the bars until he couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.
Anna, with her affection and pity-free advocacy, had somehow flipped the lock and set him free. It felt like validation.
Yet he couldn’t find the open door. Couldn’t reach her. Not really. Because pixie particulars aside, no way did she mean it like that. No way would she wake up and think,This was a good decision.
He’d never outrun his blood, not even with Sean Archer’s soul in his body. Adding white to black didn’t remove the darkness. It only muddied them both to gray.
The color of storm clouds. Ash. Gunmetal. Destruction.
He was gray and Anna was pristine white, edged in sky blue. He didn’t want to be her dirty secret, and he didn’t need her sympathy. An afternoon—and half a sleepless night—lost in her exquisite body didn’t change that.
If she were awake, she’d agree.
Mistake. Not to be repeated.
And he needed to get out of there.
David left his room, only to stop short at Autumn’s presence in the hall. He remained still. Measured breaths allowed him time to replace everything behind his safeguards.
Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth. “Can we talk?”
“No.”
Her shoulders fell. “David, please?—”
He turned on his heel, heading straight for the cookery to deposit his cup. He’d be disgustingly early to training, but at least Cathaire would be pleased.
“David, I didn’t do this,” she said, following him. “I didn’t even know.”
