Page 66 of The Fallen Fae King

“Don’t worry, I will do later,” Freya promises. “And Lanlin called himself a puppy.”

Daire’s expression lights up. “I could adopt a vampire puppy.”

“Even one who tears out your throat?”

Daire gives me a long look. “Why did you? Or more to the bloody point, why did you stop?”

I grit my teeth.

Does he truly wish to know why I drained him? Or why I didn’t kill him?

Are they the same question to him?

Do neither of them still understand?

I would save or destroy worlds for them.

Yet I have also noticed…seen…them in a way that I never have anyone, even Lazarus.

I know the way that Freya’s shoulders soften when she feels safe in our nest and how her laughter comes quieter sometimes like she is too used to being taught that Omegas aren’t equals.

I have watched her offer kindness to everyone but herself.

She thinks that she is a great spy, no doubt, and that no one notices these things.

She is wrong.

I notice all of them.

I notice her.

Perhaps, this is why I find it impossible to look away. Not because I believe that she needs saving but because every part of me wants to stand between her and anything that would make those shadows in her eyes any deeper.

My devotion is quiet, but it is complete and eternal.

And Daire…?

His smile sharpens whenever the conversation wanders too close to the wounds of his past. He wears confidence like a dazzling crown. Others may see its brilliance. As one king to another, I see its weight.

He is stained in grief, but he hides it with humor.

I can still sense the ghosts clinging to him, as my own cling to me.

I understand him more than he knows.

I want to say all that. But I have never been good with words.

I have probably spent too long amongst my animals. It’s what most people have told me.

Instead, I say, “I am not some soft fool like Relius.”

Daire snorts. “Relius is not soft.”

“For you he is.”

“For. Not to…?” Freya quirks her brow.

What does she mean?