“Aiden found Maggie,” she murmured.
“And after so many years, I have found you.”
And now he’d melted her heart, and she almost released an “aw” that definitely would have sent him running. She battled to keep her emotions from her face, but she must have failed because he focused his attention on the window again.
“Just because you manly men, purebred vamps have spent centuries not talking to each other about what you go through doesn’t mean you can’t start now,” she said.
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth when he turned to face her again. “Are you suggesting we all sit down and discuss ourfeelings?”
She almost laughed at his incredulous tone. “Why not?”
“We’re not the talking type.”
“You’re right; it is a lot easier to bury your feelings by killing things.”
“Exactly.”
Willow chuckled. “It couldn’t hurt to try.”
“I’ll take it under advisement, Dr. Phil, but I don’t see it happening.”
“Neither do I,” she admitted.
She rested her head against the cushioned chair back as she studied him. She couldn’t imagine battling so many demons for as long as he had. How had he not lost his mind?
“How have you managed to keep yourself under control for so long?” she asked.
“Because there was no other choice, and I didn’t always keep myself under control.”
Declan braced himself for her next question, if she was brave enough to ask it.
When Declan turned to look at her, Willow saw the anguish in his eyes but also the defiance. It was like he was daring her to ask the question on the tip of her tongue. She’d never backed down from a challenge before, but was she ready for the answer to this?
He believed himself a monster, and he’d battled demons she couldn’t imagine facing, every day for nearly six hundred years. What if she couldn’t handle hearing the answer he gave her?
But, if she didn’t ask now, then she never would, and though she dreaded the answer, she would hate herself more for acting like a coward.
“What do you mean, you didn’t always keep yourself under control?” she asked.
Chapter Thirty-Five
He’d dreadedher asking the question, but he was proud of her for not shying away from it. Instead, she stared defiantly at him as she lifted her chin. If she were sitting across from anyone else, they wouldn’t know her emotions were bouncing around like a pinball inside her.
He took a moment to memorize her like this—as the woman who looked at him with complete trust and no hint of disgust. He’d probably never see it again.
“When I was a hundred and ten years old, I nearly killed a woman,” he said.
“A human?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that’s not—”
“It was more than one,” he interrupted before she could start to justify his actions. He refused to let her defend him.
“More than one,” she murmured. “How many?”
“Eight.”
