“No one orders me.”
“Then why does it have to be now? I told you I am leaving, and I’m going to. What is the difference between me leaving with a plan, and me leaving today?”
She’s right, of course. It’s not her fault I refuse to tell her the real reason.
“The difference is time,” I say.
“Whose time? You don’t work, you don’t go anywhere… You have, by every visible measure, nothing but time.”
“It’s better now than later.”
“Better for who?”
I grit my teeth and don’t answer.
She uncrosses her arms and plants both hands on the back of the chair between us, leaning into my personal space, holding my gaze with determination. When she speaks again, her voice is low and controlled, which coming from her, is worse than shouting.
“You’re keeping something from me. Something important that has to do with me directly, and I don’t appreciate it. If it’s about you, and not about me, say it, and I won’t push.”
I clench my jaw. I could tell her the truth. I wouldn’t even need too many words. Three sentences would do it –You’re my fated mate. I crave you. Soon, it will be impossible to hold back, and I might just kill you.
I can’t. I don’t want to see the look on her face when she realizes what I want to do to her. She’s afraid of me already; the truth would make it worse. On the bright side, she wouldn’t fight me anymore, and she’d pack her bags in minutes. But I wouldn’t be able to stand the thought that she’d walk out of my house and my life terrified, disgusted, thinking of me as a feral monster who can’t control his baser needs. Not that it wouldn’t be a fair assessment.
Chapter Thirteen
Esme
As Osric and I continue our staring game, Darina folds the cloth, sets it on the bench, and crosses the kitchen without looking at either of us. She lifts Nim off the floor in one smooth motion, and the duskcat, who hisses at me and refuses every scrap I offer, goes soft against her shoulder, folds her ears down, and clings to her arm. It is deeply unfair.
We’re alone.
I study him carefully. He’s pale under the darker color of his shell, a grey that doesn’t look healthy, and there’s sweat gathered at his temples. His jaw is tight, his hands curled into fists at his sides. I can tell he’s in pain, and I just want him to tell me why and what I can do to help him.
He hasn’t kept his distance because he doesn’t care. He’s kept his distance because something’s wrong with him.
“You’re sick,” I say. “You’ve been sick this whole time.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
His voice is rough from coughing too much, or from whatever he swallows down every time I come near. I wonder if it has to do with the clicking sound he made that one time.
“You don’t want to be my bride. I understand that, so I’m giving you your freedom. That’s the end of it.”
I cock an eyebrow.
“Well, today I’m not interested in my freedom. I want to know what’s going on with you.”
“There’s nothing to gain from knowing.”
“Let me decide that.”
My face grows hot, and I hate that every thought and feeling I have shows on my skin. I don’t want to say the next words, but I think it’s the only thing that will make him talk.
“I found that guide in your library. The one written for human brides. I read it.”
The pallor under his shell deepens.
“So, I know how it works,” I go on, faster now, ignoring how red I must be. “The mating hunt. I know what the clicking is.” I don’t tell him how my hands shook when I read it, or how I craved something I’d never craved before, how I couldn’t sleep after. I only need him to know that I understand, not what it did to me. “I know it’s not a sickness. It’s you recognizing your mate.”
