The general’s eyes shifted to Gyrial, then met Asta’s. “I’m—” he sucked in a breath as Asta’s grip tightened, her eyes intently watching the trail of blood dripping from his nose. “I’m sorry.”
Asta dove forward and latched onto General Bohr’s neck with her mouth and Kaid ran for her.
“No!” he shouted as Asta feasted on the blood that had sent her into a frenzy in the first place. “Asta, no!”
Gyrial got to her first and tried to pull her off the general, but she shoved him so hard that the fae actually flew backward.
Kaid knelt down next to her and petted her matted hair. “Asta, you are not a cold-blooded killer. This is not you. This is your siren.”
Her gulping slowed down, but she continued to feed. The general’s face was a shade lighter and his eyes fluttered shut.
“Asta,” Kaid gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “Stop. You’re killing him.”
She froze, her feeding paused. She squeezed her eyes shut, and Kaid knew that she was battling the voice in her head that told her to keep feeding. The voice that the sirens had inherited from the finfolk. Her hands shook as she shoved the general to the ground, her mouth disconnecting with apop!
Asta looked to Kaid with blood-stained lips and tears in her eyes, her hands shaking. One of her hands grabbed the other immediately and began cracking various joints in her fingers and all Kaid could do was pull her into a tight embrace until she came back to him.
Chapter 42
Asta was still shaken up as the spare fae soldier—the one not involved in the duel—led the group through the boulder gates and into the fae territory.
It was not that she had nearly taken someone’s life—especially someone who treated her best friend so poorly—but how little control she had over her actions as she had done so.
Asta always had control. She never allowed anyone else to take charge or guide her actions. Now, an insatiable siren lived within her, able to dominate her thoughts at the first sign of bloodlust. She hated it.
The only person who had been able to reunite her mind with her body time and time again was Kaid. Whenever she fell, he was there to catch her and hold her until she could stand on her own again.
It was a new feeling for Asta, letting someone in. Allowing someone to see her vulnerable sides and not protesting when they tried to help. She did not even allow such a thing with Linnea. But with Kaid, it had happened without her even acknowledging it, and that gave her the answer to a question she had been asking herself for years.
Asta jogged ahead toward Gyrial, who was walking next to the fae soldier.
She tapped him on the shoulder. “Can we talk?” She glanced behind them. “Privately.”
Gyrial furrowed a brow but nodded, lightly guiding her by her elbow off the path they were walking on. The group kept walking, clearly taking the hint. Gyrial knew his way around and could lead them to their destination after their conversation.
Gyrial smiled gently and left his hand on her elbow. “What’s bothering you?”
Asta did not know how to address the subject she needed to speak about, so she utilized the method she knew best—blunt honesty.
She sucked in a deep breath then blurted, “I love you.”
Gyrial’s eyes widened, utter confusion emanating from every pore.
“I—oh fuck—no, this isn’t coming out the way I need it to,” she stammered.
“Asta, breathe. It’s me. What are you saying? I need to knowexactlywhat you mean.” Gyrial’s tone was a bit more stern than she was accustomed to.
Asta curled her hands into fists, doing her best to refrain from cracking knuckles. “I love you, but not the way you need meto. And not the way you deserve to be loved. I love you enough to tell you that I’m notinlove with you, and we have to move on from the ‘will-they, won’t-they’ approach we’ve always taken. I want to see you happy with someone who feels exactly the same toward you.”
The fae male stared at her in silence for many moments, never moving a muscle aside from his eyes searching her face. Then, at last, he let go of her arm and took a step back.
Gyrial cleared his throat before speaking. “Thank you, Asta. Thank you for saying the words I needed to hear aloud to understand.” He smiled sweetly, though it did not reflect in his eyes. “It’s him, isn’t it?”
Asta peered toward the group walking away down the path, her sight set on the deep red-haired male that looked like he had been finely crafted by the greatest sculptor in history.
“It’s him, Gyrial.”
Asta and Gyrial quickly caught up with their companions, who were being led to the High Fae Lord at their request. Gyrial mentioned many times that he was astonished that the Lord would even grant them visitation, which made Asta nervous.
