Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 229266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1146(@200wpm)___ 917(@250wpm)___ 764(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 229266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1146(@200wpm)___ 917(@250wpm)___ 764(@300wpm)
His eyes widened.
“And I couldn’t understand how I kept falling for you. I was so angry with you—with myself for not seeing the truth. And it felt like a betrayal to Vikter and Rylan, the others. And myself.”
His chest rose with a heavy breath. “And you still feel that way? Like it’s a betrayal to keep falling for me?” He took a step and then another toward me before stopping. “If so, I understand, Poppy. Some things can’t—”
“Some things can’t be forgotten or forgiven,” I said, rubbing my damp hands over my knees. “But I think I realized, or have come to accept, that even then, some things can’t be changed or stopped. That they still matter but don’t. That those emotions are powerful, but not as strong as others. That what I felt for you had nothing to do with what you did or didn’t do. It had nothing to do with Vikter or anyone else. And acknowledging that felt like permission to…to feel. And that scared me.”
I placed my hand against my chest. “It still terrifies me because I have never felt this way about anyone, and I know…I know it has nothing to do with you being my first or there being, well, limited options in my life. It’s you. It’s me. It’s us. What I feel? Like how I want to take your pain away and yet throttle you at the same moment? How your stupid dimples are infuriating, but I look for them every time you smile because I know that’s a real smile. I don’t know why I look forward to arguing with you, but I do. You’re clever, and you are kinder than even you realize—even though I know you have earned the title of the Dark One. You are a puzzle I want to figure out, but at the same time, don’t. And when I realized you have so many masks—so many layers, I kept wanting to peel them back, even though I fear it will only hurt more in the end.”
I shook my head as I curled my fingers around the collar of my tunic. “I don’t understand any of this. Like how do I want to stab you and kiss you at the same time? And I know you said that I deserve to be with someone who didn’t kidnap me, or someone I don’t want to stab—”
“Forget I said that,” he said, closer to me when I looked up. “I have no idea what I was talking about. Maybe I didn’t even say that.”
My lips twitched. “You totally said that.”
“You’re right. I did. Forget it.” His eyes searched mine. “Tell me why this terrifies you. Please?”
My breath snagged. “Because you…you could break my heart again. And what we’re doing? It’s bigger than us, and even your brother. You have to know that. We could actually change things. Not just for your people, but also for the people of Solis.”
“I know that,” he whispered, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his eyes luminous.
“And things are already complicated and messy, and acknowledging what I want—what I feel—just makes it all the more complicated and scary. Because this time…” Tears burned the back of my throat. “This time, I don’t know how I will get over that. I know that probably makes me sound weak and immature or whatever, but it’s just something I know.”
“It’s not weak.” Casteel came forward, but he didn’t stand there. He didn’t sit beside me. He lowered himself to his knees in front of me. “Your heart, Poppy? It is a gift I do not deserve.” He placed his hands on my knees as he lifted his gaze to mine. “But it is one I will protect until my dying breath. I don’t know what that means.” He stopped, curling his fingers into the leggings, into my skin. “Okay. Fuck. I do know what that means. It’s why I’m in awe of everything you say or do—everything you are. It’s why you’re the first thing I think about when I wake and the last thought I have when I fall asleep, replacing everything else. It’s why when I’m with you, I can be quiet. I can just be. You know what that means.”
He took one of my hands and pressed it to his chest—his heart. “Tell me what that means. Please.”
Please.
Twice in one conversation he’d said that, a word that didn’t pass his lips often. And how could I refuse?
I didn’t just focus on him to get what I was now learning was a cursory reading of his emotions. I opened myself, forming the invisible tether to him and what he felt. It came back to me in a rush, and it was shocking.
Not the heavy and thick-like-cream feel of concern. He worried—about what was going to happen to his brother, his kingdom, to me. It wasn’t the cool splash of surprise that made me think he didn’t quite believe this conversation. The tangy, almost bitter taste of sadness was minimal, and the only time his agony hadn’t been raw and nearly overpowering was when I’d taken his pain from him. That surprised me, yes, but what shocked me more was the sweetness on the tip of my tongue.