“I’m not sure that I can love you.”
He wouldn’t be the first. At least he’s honest about it. I can deal with honesty.
“I understand.”
“I know I want you. I’m still reeling because I’ve met no one who made me feel the things you made me feel in the way you made me feel them.” His hand comes up to rub over his eyes, and he whispers, “I know that if my woman can’t deal with us, we will walk away so we don’t hurt her.”
My eyes flash golden, anger welling up so quickly that it shocks me.
That is not what he said when we sat down. What in the goddamn hell do they want from me?
I feel the rage surging inside me, and a calming wave comes sliding down the bond from my primary. My primary wants me to calm down and give him a chance. That’s bloody different from the damned edict she gave me today, but there you go. I guess she’s ready to risk the nuclear fallout when this all blows up.
Always betting on the long shot— that's my woman—but it’s not me anymore.
“I know what the score is. I offered to walk away yesterday. I think...” I ignore the screeches in my mind and whisper, “I think maybe we should.”
Before he blinks, I’m off the bed and over at the window, putting the distance I need between us so I can deal with the emotional distance. “I love Talia, but I can’t lose someone that I love, even if they don’t and can’t love me. There’s been too much of that already. I’d rather put an end to this now before it becomes such a big deal that having to cut it off will affect what I have with her.”
Turning away, I open the filmy curtains and look out into the night. “I love her to my marrow, but having to choose once it’s gone too far eats you alive. It rots your soul. Trust me, I know.” I lament while looking over my shoulder, my expression full of the ghosts of the past. He doesn’t respond, and I go back to staring into the mist crawling over the back patio and gardens.
“Christ.”
“I have to be honest because I’ve made the mistake of not being honest before.” I walk out onto the balcony, inhaling the scents coming off the gardens below. I guess I’ve been around the cat too long. The smell of the ocean mixed with flowers calms my rattled psyche a little. “If I truly let you in, and it’s gone in a snap, I’ll be more than damaged. I might not resent it right away, but over time, the room would be thick with tension every time that I saw you. It’d make doing anything with the family impossible.”
“I don’t want that, mate.”
My voice is a low whisper. “I don’t either, but I also won’t let her give up the cat. It will shred the part of her that’s held together by a thread. I will not ask for the same consideration from my wife; she’s free to have what she wants from both of us.” Closing my eyes, I will myself to not allow any more emotion than I’m already showing to manifest. I cannot seem weak to someone who can hurt me—never again will I let anyone have the pleasureof hurting me with my love again. “Hell, it was already tense in that room, even during the healing.”
I know that was all the cat, but she was halfway to robot mode. It’s half Stepford, half zombie logic monster, and if you know the cat at all, it’s like an alien possessing her body.
Everything about robot mode feels wrong.
“What do you want me to do? What do you want from me? I’m sick of the pain and sick of the hurting, Sampson. I had my share with the minx. I can’t handle much more.”
Neither can I, and I don’t know what to do about it.
The Artist Concedes Defeat
RAFE
It’s fortunate that I’m facing the garden. My scoff was too obvious to allow him to see it.Hecan’t handle anymore. I think it would surprise him to find out what he could handle if he had to. What I handled so he could have that time with my mate, difficult or not. It’s hard not to be bitter about his self-indulgence, when I’m certain he just does not understand our sacrifices.
He growls. “You’re not the only one who’s been through hell here. I didn’t lose mates, and I wasn’t betrayed like you. But I get tortured, too. No one, not even the minx, expects me to do anything but take it because I’m made of such stern stuff.”
Torture? I don’t think so; I know what torture is, and having to be strong isn’t that.
I sound like a prat playing ‘mine is bigger than yours’ in my head, but his claim is laughable. He wouldn’t say it if he had a clue what we’ve been through. But he doesn’t, so I’ll let him have his feelings. I look at him, giving him the space to vent that perhaps he needs.
“Everything I touch—everything—leaves scars on me that rival those on your back. No one sees them, though. I keep them hidden in silk and swagger.”
My eyes narrow. “Do you think I’m not tired of everything being so hard that it rips my heart out? I’ve lost four mates and maybe a fifth if you count—but that doesn’t matter because I have always been able to take it. I don’t ask anyone to take anything for me, but me.”
Walking back in the room and toward the side of the bed, I glare. “I know about hidden scars. The ones on my back aren’t common knowledge—only those who are close to me know where they came from. There are so many more you can’t see. I could go on for hours about the whole ‘everything I touch goes ass over end’ thing.”
“We’re both fucked if we do and fucked if we don’t—that’s the long and the short of it?”
I snort. “Long, short, and sideways.”
