Instead, the words drag themselves out of me, breathy and honest before I can stab them. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
He locks on my mouth like he’s memorizing it before he sighs and steps back. “Come on. Let’s wait for them in the courtyard. They should be ready soon.”
With that we head out, a nervous excitement swimming through my veins.
Because if what they’ve described really is Isles royals’ Kiss, these royals have a lot bigger problems than little old me on their hands.
I just have to figure out what it is and what it means.
The only thing coming to mind?
Not fucking good.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Legend
She’s under the oak like a weapon someone dropped and forgot about. My brothers are taking a lot longer than the five fucking minute countdown I gave them.
I think it’s messing with her mind.
I stop at the field’s edge, watching her rip grass from the earth in violent little fistfuls. Each blade she destroys makes my chest tighten—not because I give a fuck about the landscaping, but because she’s this close to detonating and I’m not the target.
That bothers me more than it should.
Her head snaps up, those green eyes finding me through thirty yards of space like she can smell my thoughts. The hostility in her face shifts to something worse—resignation. Like she’s too exhausted to fight me right now.
Good. I’m too exhausted to fight her either.
I cross the field and drop beside her without invitation, my shoulder brushing hers as I stretch out on the grass. She doesn’t move away. Doesn’t move closer either, but the fact that she’s not currently trying to stab me counts as progress. Maybe, for once, our little conversation from a few minutes ago will actually hold after the moment ended.
“Don’t let Creed get to you.” The words come out before I can stop them.
“Why? Because you’re the only one allowed to fuck with my head?”
“Because he doesn’t understand you.”
“And you do?”
“No.” I turn my head to look at her profile—sharp jaw, sharper tongue, sharpest edges I’ve ever wanted to cut myself on. “But I’m trying to.”
Something in her face cracks. Not much, just a hairline fracture in all that armor, but then—fuck me—she smiles. Not her usual smile that promises violence and tastes like blood. This one’s soft.Real. Small enough that if I blinked I’d miss it.
It destroys me.
The smile vanishes as fast as it came, but the damage is done. My ribs feel too small for what’s expanding in my chest—this vicious, consuming need to stand between her and anything that might dim that expression. To hunt down whatever made her learn to hide softness like a fucking shame.
She’s a pain in the ass in the best and worst ways, giving me a little and taking it back. Only to give a little more the next time. She’s creaking, and each time she does, that gap fills with a little more of me.
I want her to break open until half of me makes up the other half of her.
“What?” She’s studying me now, and I realize I’ve been staring.
“Nothing.” It’s anything but nothing.
“Bullshit. You look like someone just told you your favorite torture device got discontinued.”
“Maybe they did.” I reach over and pluck a blade of grass from her hair. She goes still, not even breathing as my fingers brush her temple. “Maybe you’re it.”
