Page 160 of Kneel Before Me

Maximus took the wine from her and took a swig of his own. Clearly this was a conversation that required alcohol. “So?”

“So.” Daphne took the wine back. “How can you want to marry someone you’ve never even fucked?”

“Because I don’t need to fuck you to know that I want to be with you.”

“Max,” Daphne whispered.

He shook his head. “Don’t,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to hear it.”

She stared up at him. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to throw her on the bed and fuck her just so she could no longer use that against him. Instead he waited for her to respond, and when she did, the words were a whisper.

“Do you love me, Max?”

A pause stretched between them. “I could.”

“That’s not enough.”

“Of course it is.”

“No,” she whispered. “It isn’t.”

Maximus shook his head. She was so fucking impossible. Of course he could love her. And she could love him, regardless of what she told herself. Humans were not so complicated. The heart was not some mysterious thing. You either felt something or you didn’t. And Maximus felt something—he felt so much. He hadn’t cared for a single woman since Lilibet died. Daphne had been a surprise to him—the way she’d grown on him slowly. Now he didn’t care to live his life without her. Maximus remembered what Kronos had said about Daphne: She is irreplaceable. They agreed on that, at least. No one could possibly take her place. Not Constance nor Veronica nor any other woman whom his father considered a better match. Daphne was the only option.

“What is it about me that you find so loathsome, Daphne? Am I truly such a horrible match?”

Daphne shook her head. “Of course not,” she whispered.

He stepped closer. “Then why won’t you be with me?”

She pursed her lips.

He wanted to shake her. “We would be good together,” he whispered. “We…work.”

“I know we work,” Daphne whispered. “But I don’t want you the way you want me.”

“But you do want me in some way.”

Now the truth of the matter sat between them. Maximus knew he wasn’t wrong. They were a good match. A right match.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I want you in some way.”

“Then that should be enough.”

She shook her head. “It’s not.”

“Why not?”

“How is that enough for you, Max? You deserve someone who wants you in the same way you want them. You deserve someone who is your equal.”

“You are my equal, Daphne. We could rule together. We could—”

“Constance is your equal. Your father said so himself.”

He snatched the wine from her hands, taking another swig. “I do not care about Constance.”

She snatched it right back, matching his swig with her own. “You should.”

“I’d rather die than marry her.”