His breath against her ear made her shiveragain.“Not close enough to you.”
She tried to put much needed space between them. “Did we know each other in Vincula?” If he still lived in the prison realm, what were the odds he wasn’t the king, and why would the king look like Bane?
He stuck a hand in the pocket of his sweatpants, drawing her eyes down to a prominent bulge. At that moment, the desert had more moisture than her mouth, and she licked her lips before returning her eyes back to his devious grin.
“Do you see something you like, Miss Raven?”
Crossing her arms to cover her hardened nipples, she huffed. “Don’t avoid the question.”
He raked a hand through his messy blonde hair, and Rory tried not to watch his muscles flex with the movement. If someone had asked her that morning if the oblique muscles turned her on, she would have said no. Her answer had since changed.
The amusement in his voice suggested he knew what she was thinking. “Why do you think we met in Vincula?”
She stepped closer to him, hoping her proximity would muddle his mind like it did hers. “One of my guards said there was a man in Vincula I thought was Bane.” He stiffened, making her smile. “So, it’s true.”
“You need to stop digging,” he commanded tersely. “Forget your past and enjoy your future. It’s all that matters now.”
Her face twisted indignantly. “Our past matters because it put us where we are, no matter if it was good or bad. We learn from it, grow from it. If it didn’t matter, we would forget it without magic, but it does, and it always will.”
He reached out and touched a piece of her hair, letting it slide through his fingers. “If you focus on the past, you will never move forward. You will obsess over what you did wrong.” His imploring eyes met hers. “You don’t learn from your past because you learned your lesson as it happened.” The muscle in his jaw fluttered as he looked away. “And then you learn to let go.”
“What if I don’t want to let go?” she whispered. “What if I left someone in the past I was supposed to bring with me to the present?”
His golden gaze met hers again. “What if they purposefully pushed you into a future without them?”
Pain struck her in the chest at his harsh words. The same pain reflected in his eyes, and in that moment, she knew he was important to her, and she to him.
“Who are you?” she asked, barely above a whisper.
Reaching out a hand, he tenderly ran his thumb across her bottom lip. “I am a man who dreams of you, even if you don’t dream of me, and when you forget me and move on with your life, I will dream of you still.” He dropped his arm and backed away with a resigned expression.
The room shimmered,and she lurched forward, reaching for him. “Wait!”
Rory sat up with tears rolling down her face, knowing, without a doubt, that Caius was the missing piece. Nothing about it made sense, and despite him looking like Bane, sheknewhe wasn’t.
Just as she knew colors without being told, she knew this too.
That only meant one thing: the real Bane was still out there, and despite everything in her telling her to find him, Caius’ words echoed in her mind.“You learn to let go.”
14
VINCULA
Caius threw backhis comforter as pain consumed him. Seeing her was bittersweet, but she was questioning things, meaning her memories were trying to return.
Every night he fought the urge to tell her, and he was second-guessing his decision not to. If he told her, could he convince her to stay hidden from Gedeon until he found a way out?
He didn’t know. It should be impossible for Gedeon to know about her, and for all intents and purposes, Gedeon should think Caius was released.
Lenora’s warning could not be ignored, but how would Gedeon find out? Could her friends really be trusted?
Padding across the room to the bathroom, he splashed water on his face. When he looked in the mirror, flashes of Rory assaulted him. Her cleaning his toilet while glaring daggers over her shoulder; the way she stubbornly refused his help bathing, despite needing it; seeing her curled on the floor, drowning in her grief.
His pain morphed into anger toward his brother and himself. A guttural cry tore from his throat, and shadows erupted around him,destroying the room. Bits of porcelain from the tub rained down, along with glass from the shower and mirror. He stared at his hands.
The veins turned black, creeping up his arms like roots. He lifted his hand and flexed his fingers, enthralled with his skin. This wasn’t like the day the two men attacked Rory. The shadows had crawledoverhis skin then, creating the same illusion, but this time, they flowed through him like venom.
As he calmed down, the black receded, and he questioned if it had been there at all.
