My throat tightens. “I don’t want to lead you on.”
“I don’t consider this leading me on.” He takes both my hands in his, holding them carefully, like they’re precious. “Give me a real chance. Don’t just agree to one date while your heart is somewhere else. Actually try with me.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“Two months.” The words come out rushed, like he’s afraid if he doesn’t say them fast enough, he’ll lose his nerve. “Give me two months to properly woo you. Let me take you on real dates, show you what it could be like with someone who wants to be with you. And if after two months you still don’t feel anything for me, I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”
I want to say no. Want to tell him it’s not fair to either of us, that my heart is too tangled up in Kain and ten years of grief to give anyone else an honest try.
But when I look at David—at his hopeful eyes and his genuine affection and his willingness to put himself out there despite knowing about Kain—I can’t bring myself to crush him completely.
Besides, maybe he’s right. Maybe two months of being with someone who actually wants me is exactly what I need to move on from a man who kissed me like I was everything and then walked away like I was nothing.
“Two months,” I hear myself say. “But I need you to understand that I can’t promise—”
“I’m not asking for promises.” He squeezes my hands gently. “I’m just asking for a chance. A real one.”
“Okay.” The word feels heavy leaving my mouth. “Two months.”
He breaks into a huge smile, hope and relief and what looks dangerously like joy lighting up his features. “Really?”
“Really. But you have to promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“After two months, if I still can’t feel anything, you have to walk away.”
“I promise.” He raises one hand like he’s taking an oath. “Two months, and if you’re not feeling it, I’ll bow out gracefully.”
“I guess we have a deal.”
David pulls me into a hug, and I let him, even though his embrace feels wrong in ways I can’t articulate. He’s taller than Kain, his shoulders broader, his scent completely different. Everything about him is different.
That’s the point, I remind myself firmly. You need different. You need someone who isn’t going to break your heart.
Chapter Eleven
Kain
That kiss in the parking lot destroyed a part of me. Shattered almost all the control I’d been clinging to.
Two days. It’s been two days since I tasted her lips, since I felt her body against mine and wanted nothing more than never to let go. And in those two days, I haven’t thought about anything but her.
I tell myself it’s wrong. That I don’t deserve her. How could I, when I’m lying to her about everything? I’m plotting against her best friend, and every moment I spend with her is built on a foundation of deception.
But knowing I don’t deserve her doesn’t stop me from wanting her, doesn’t stop my wolf from howling for her, and certainly doesn’t stop me from thinking about that kiss every waking moment and dreaming about it when I finally manage to sleep.
Even if I abandon the mission and become the man she loves, I will only cause her pain in the end when the consequence of my disobedience to the organization comes. So, I should leave heralone. I should stay away and give her space to move on with that David guy the way she clearly wants to.
Instead, I find myself sitting in a rental car I picked up this afternoon, parked across the street from Bellissimo’s—an upscale Italian restaurant with white linens and candles on every table—watching through the wide front windows as Anne has dinner with him.
The rental was a last-minute decision. Anne would recognize my car instantly, and I can’t risk her seeing me here. Can’t risk her knowing how pathetic I’ve become, reduced to being a stalker in a borrowed vehicle, wrapped up in this desperate need to be near her, even if she is with someone else.
Through the window, I can see them at a corner table. David is animated, gesturing as he tells some story that makes Anne smile. It’s not the bright, genuine smile she used to give me, but there is a softness to it, nonetheless.
She’s trying. I can tell. She is really trying to make things work between them. The way she leans in when he talks, like she’s genuinely interested. The way she laughs at something he says, covering her mouth with her hand the way she always does when she finds something funny. The small gestures that are so quintessentially Anne—considerate, warm, giving him her full attention when he talks.
My chest aches hollowly. My wolf is agitated, pacing beneath my skin with possessive rage, but it’s more than that. It’s me. The man beneath the conditioning, the mission, the lies. I’m the one who can’t look away. This is what’s killing me: watching her be herself with someone else. Seeing her give that kindness, that warmth, to a man who actually deserves it.
