Worse? She liked the way he’d held her. It’d been way too long since anyone touched her like he did.
Like she mattered.
She’d forgotten what it felt like to be part of a couple—to have a man stare at her as if he hung on her every word. But Falcyn made her remember things she’d done her damnedest to forget.
More than that, he made her crave it again.
Don’t!She didn’t want to be hurt. Not like that. Not after what she’d gone through with Evander. It’d almost killed her to lose him, and she never wanted to hurt that way again.
And yet…
This was different.
Hewas different.
And it wasn’t just because Falcyn was a dragon. Though that was a large part of it, there was a lot more.
Something in her reached out for him against her will. She didn’t understand it.
And she hated that weakness with every part of herself.You’re stronger than this.
She didn’t need anyone. Ever. Not for anything. On her own two feet. That was how she lived. It was what she knew best. What she liked. Nothing could hurt her unless she allowed it and she refused to be vulnerable.
No connections. She had her brother and Davyn. Two warriors who were virtually incapable of falling. They were the only ones she was attached to.
And her parents, who would fall to no one.
Not even the gods.
That was all she’d allow herself.I will stand below no more pyres to watch my loved ones burn.She refused to be Urian. To live in absolute grief. A shadow of her former self. A shade lost in the anguish of heartbreak. She’d been there for too many centuries and it’d taken her too long to get over the death of her baby and husband.
Medea couldn’t go back.
Shewouldn’tgo back.
Not even for Falcyn.
Heartache was for fools. Love was for the weak. She had no use for either.I’m stronger alone, always.
No matter what, she had to make herself believe that and remember that. To live it.
And as they walked, Brogan drifted back to Medea’s side and cocked her head in a very birdlike manner. “They called you a Daimon?”
“Sort of.”
“I don’t know your species. Are you like the fey?”
“My people were created by the Greek god Apollo and then cursed by him.”
“Why?”
Why indeed. That had been the question that had galled her the whole of her exceptionally long life.
Medea sighed as she was driven against her will to remember the tragedy of her mother’s mortal fate. Head over heels in love as a girl, she’d married Apollo’s son without hesitation. And then, pregnant with her, her mother had been forced to divorce Medea’s father or see herself raped and murdered by the vengeful god.
Leaving her father had emotionally destroyed her mother. Had killed something deep inside her that hadn’t come alive again until the day they’d reunited.
Centuries after Stryker had married and raised another family with another wife—Urian’s surrogate mother.
