Tears glittered in Amryn’s eyes, but none fell. Her lips trembled, though her voice was hard as she said, “He made me a lot of promises, too. He made promises to my mother and brother. But one day, he decided our lives were worth less than a purse of coins. One of the knights taunted us about that right before he murdered my mother.”
Horror. Revulsion. Grief. Sorrow. Fury. Carver felt all of that and more. But his anger at Amryn? It was gone. Instantly.
Voice hoarse, he said, “Amryn—”
“My father proved that people can say anything they want,” she said, breathless and furious and so, so pained. “Someone can claim they love you. They can evenfeelthat love sometimes, but that doesn’t mean it’s true. It doesn’t mean it will last.It doesn’t mean they’llchooseyou.” She choked on a suppressed sob, meeting his gaze as the tears finally leaked from her shining eyes. “My own father sold me. How am I supposed to believe that anyone else can truly love me if even he couldn’t?”
She was breaking his heart. Shredding it to pieces with every hurt word, every frayed breath, and every tear cutting down her face.
Carver stepped forward, moving slowly to give her every chance to pull away as he set his hands on her trembling shoulders.
She didn’t pull away. Just met his gaze with her own, cautious and wounded.
“Your father failed you, Amryn,” he said, his voice low, fervent, and burning. “He should have cherished you and loved you and protected you to his last breath. I’m sorry he didn’t. Saints, sweetheart, itkillsme that he didn’t.” He rested his hands against her wet cheeks, cradling her as gently as he could. As if he held her precious, fragile heart in his hands. Because somehow, even though he didn’t deserve it, he did.
“What your father did to you is unforgivable,” Carver said. He knew she would feel his low, burning need to tear apart the man who had hurt her so devastatingly. Yet he still tried to keep the rage from his voice, because Amryn didn’t need his anger right now. She needed reassurance. “What he did to you—to your mother and your brother—it’s unfathomable to me. I’ll never understand how a father and a husband could do such a heartless thing. But what Idoknow is that he alone carries the blame for his actions. His choice had absolutely nothing to do with you. You were always worthy of his love, Amryn. He was just never worthy of yours.”
Her indrawn breath was sharp, her wet eyes searching his with a desperate, painful longing that made his chest ache.
“I need you to hear me,” he said, his gaze holding hers. Begging her to listen and believe. “I amnotyour father. There will never come a time when I valueanythingmore than I value your life. There will never come a time when I choose to betray you to your enemies. And if anyone ever tried to take you from me, I would destroy them.” His throat tightened, but he forced himself to say, “I would take any pain, endure any torture, if it meant keeping you safe.”
Her lower lip trembled, and agony sparked in her eyes. “I felt his love,” she whispered, pain drenching each word. “I was only a child, but I felt love from him. And in the end, it meant nothing.Wemeant nothing to him.”
Carver rested his forehead against hers, his chest aching. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what that feels like. But I need you to know that you will always mean everything to me.”
“I can’t mean everything to you,” she said through her tears. “Not when I know the oaths you’ve sworn to the empire. Not when I know how much you love your family. They’ll always come first. Theyshouldcome first.”
His heart clenched. “Sweetheart, you’re killing me.” He met her stare, willed her to feel the sincerity of his words. “Amryn, youaremy family. You’re mywife. And while I swore oaths to the empire, I also swore oaths to you—at that temple altar, and every day since. I will choose you, Amryn. Always. I will protect you.Always. You never have to doubt that. I will always stand between you and any threat. I promise you that.” He gentled his tone. “I’m sorry I caused you even a moment of doubt or pain, but I swear you can trust me.”
“Why?” she rasped.
“Because I love you.”
It wasn’t until her eyes widened that he realized it was the first time he’d given her those words. It wasn’t until right now he realized he’d been shying away from saying them first. He’d felt vulnerable, knowing she could feel his emotions—know without a doubt that he loved her—and yet he didn’t know how she felt. Fear and anxiety had kept him silent for too long, and even in the moments they were absent, too often guilt had swept in. He’d been punishing himself in so many ways since losing Argent. Guilt rose too often when he got to touch Amryn or see her smile, because Argent was gone and couldn’t be with Jayveh. Carver had been holding back from Amryn, and he hadn’t even been fully aware of it. Worse than that, he’d hurt her.
He would not make the same mistake again.
Still cupping her cheeks, he gave her the words she needed to hear. The words he needed to say. “I love you, Amryn Lukis Vincetti.”
Her eyes were wide and shining with tears. “You love me?”
He didn’t know what did it—the incredulous hope in her eyes, the tentative wonder in her soft voice, or the stunned question itself—but his heart cracked wide open. “You’re kind, beautiful, intelligent, courageous, selfless, and everything I could ever want. How could Inotlove you?”
A single tear tracked down her cheek.
He swiped it away with the pad of his thumb, his chin lowering along with his voice. “I’m sorry there are things I haven’t shared with you. I’m sorry that made you doubt how I feel about you.” His eyes fell closed as he gently pressed his forehead against hers. “I’m just sorry,” he whispered.
Her breathing sharpened. One palm pressed against his chest, her fingers curled into his shirt, holding him in place. “You’re not . . . You don’t . . .”
Words seemed to be giving her trouble. But, Saints, she’d thought he didn’t want her because she was an empath?
He would never let her suffer from that delusion again.
He pulled back just enough to find her mouth with his own, her lips hot and soft and salted with her tears.
He kissed her slow and deep. He didn’t try to shield her from anything he felt. Not his flash of vulnerability. Not the fear that still lingered after what had happened in Market Square. Not his regret for hurting her, or his joy in holding her like this, or his burning need for her to believe him, or his rising desire for her. He didn’t give in to the urge to put up any barriers or lock down anything he felt because, clearly, he hadn’t been protecting her—or even himself—when he’d shoved back his emotions all those times before.
Amryn responded by kissing him back, both hands on his chest now. His hold shifted, too; the hand on her cheek moved to clasp the unhurt side of her neck, his other hand locking around her hip. He was barely aware of their movements. Didn’t fully notice they’d moved at all until his back hit the wall.
