“They could still leave them; they could go somewhere else and try to take back their lives.”
“Can they? Especially if they’re a human who has never known anything other than blood and death since becoming a vampire. Can they take back their lives? Can the hunters fight what has become of them? Or the turned vamps who lived peaceful lives until the Savages turned them? Can they fight it?”
“Killean does.”
“Yes, but Killean has Simone; would he still fight it without her?”
“I don’t know,” Declan admitted. He’d like to think so, Killean was his friend, and he had a lot of faith in him, but he knew Killean still grappled with the repercussions of what he did to save Simone.
“You’re a lot older than me, do you ever get tired of it?” she asked again.
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “Not the killing and fighting.” He required that to help keep him sane, but… “It was a lot easier to kill Savages in the old days when you knew they were vampires who gave in and chose their life. Now…” He shrugged as he held his hands out before him. “Things are different now. They’re not so black and white.”
“Were they ever completely black and white?”
“No.” He was an excellent example of that. He’d crossed the line, but through years of hard work, he’d come out of it stronger. However, if it weren’t for Ronan, he would be one of the monsters he hunted. “But there was no guilt then.”
“You feel guilty about killing them now?”
“Not often, but sometimes I recall they didn’t ask for this. And then I remind myself that it’s necessary. Do you feel guilty?”
“Sometimes.”
He studied her as she stared pensively out the window. “Do you regret joining the Alliance.”
“Never,” she said. “Thisis where I belong, even if we don’t make it out alive. I’d just prefer it if things were more black and white sometimes.”
“So would I.”
She yawned and rubbed at her eyes.
“You should get some rest,” Declan said. “I’ll keep watch.”
Willow rested her cheek on her knee and studied the sharp planes of his face. From the side, his nose was a straight blade, and his cheekbones looked like they were carved from marble.
He was magnificent, and her fingers itched to run over him again. She was exhausted, but she could sleep when she was dead. Which, with the way things were going, could be any minute now. When he sensed her attention, his head turned toward her, and his eyes met hers; she saw his need for her shimmering within them.
He should get up and leave, but Declan found himself riveted on her while she watched him. He shifted in the chair as his hands dug into the ends of the arms, and his erection pressed against his jeans.
Leave. Get away from her. She deserves better.But he remained in the seat.
Willow made things come alive in a way they never had before. He’d been around others whose emotions were so extreme they became something else inside him. Usually, when that happened, it was overwhelming, unpleasant, and he loathed every second of it.
With Willow, he craved more, and he was willing to let go of his restraint to have it. And that was the most dangerous thing for both of them.
Chapter Thirty-One
When she rosefrom her chair and sauntered toward him with an enticing sway of her hips, his gaze ran greedily over the curves he longed to explore. His tongue latched to the top of his mouth as protests rose in his throat. He didn’t speak when she stopped before him and settled her hands on his shoulders.
Instead of pushing her away, he rested his hands on her rounded hips and shoved aside images of running his tongue over those hips before sinking his fangs into her. He would taste and bite every inch of her perfect body. He would mark her until the satellites in space could tell she was his.
Mate.The concept was so foreign to him before she walked into his life. It was something that happened to other vampires,notto him. But the more time he knew her, the more he cared for her, and the more he suspected shewashis mate.
He did feel sorry for her, but he was so happy for himself that he wanted to shout his joy to the moon and screw the consequences. He’d been blessed with a gorgeous woman who understood his life, accepted it, and was a warrior herself. She might be able to handle everything about him, the good, the bad, and the downright hideous.
And because of that, he couldn’t allow this to continue without telling her some of it. “I’m not good for you, Willow.”
Though, it no longer mattered. If she were his mate, he wouldn’t let her down, and he wouldnotbecome a monster again.
