This wasn’t about protecting Aspen. This was about me telling them to stay put and hiding from them so I could take care of the Shard Storm without them.
I dropped my arms to my sides, my anger fading. “It wasn’t totally me, Ronen. The guardian bond took over my Infernus.”
“It did,” Ronen agreed, looking a bit murderous at the thought. “But you also didn’t put up a fight.”
“I couldn’t fight it.”
“You didn’t even try at first. And when you realized your mistake at the end, it was too late.”
Shame heated my face, and I turned away.
He brushed my cheek, quieter now. “Why do you always feel the need to do it on your own?”
“Because the people I’ve trusted most don’t protect me—they decide things for me,” I admitted.
He sighed.
Shadows plumed from his other hand. They drifted toward me, caressing my skin and playing with my loose, damp waves. “Did you know our powers are semi-sentient? They’re tied to our baser wantsand needs, but they don’t have the capability to understand consequences.”
I frowned, confused by the shift in topic. “They definitely feel that way.”
“My shadows are possessive. They despise Aspen. If I were to give in to them, let them control me, they’d kill him—and I imagine a lot of other people who’ve pissed me off.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
His expression turned solemn. “I know I’m on your list of people who’ve disappointed you, but I want you to be able to trust me.”
“By telling me you want to kill Aspen?”
“By explaining that I know if I ever did, I’d lose you. And I will fight every day to resist my urges.”
I grabbed his hand, bringing it away from my cheek to stop his addictive touches, and looked away. “You can’t lose something you don’t have,” I whispered, about to leave.
He tightened his hold and pressed his body into mine. My breath hitched. All his hard planes melded perfectly with my soft ones. Salty sweat mingled with his spicy scent, and I had to suppress a moan as he dragged his nose up the side of my neck. “You can lie to yourself about what you feel, but not me.”
My smile faded into something sad. Brushing my fingers across his sharp jawline, I pushed him back enough to see his face. His lips were right there, begging me. I still didn’t know if he knew I invaded his dream, but while he gazed at me with taunting, sinful intent, I had a hunch he did. Weak as I was, I kept my attention on those lips because holding his eyes would ruin me.
“And there lies the problem. My emotions are an open book to you, but yours aren’t. You expect me to give in to this when you won’t even let me feel you? Know you?”
This time, he pulled away, creating distance. He averted his gaze, eyes glazed as he went somewhere I couldn’t follow. “I can’t—” His neck tensed. “Etan messed with my head, Lucille. I understand the discrepancy I’ve created between us is unfair. I want to try to be vulnerable for you. Open up. But I…” He shuddered, his body rigid. “I don’t know how to get past it.”
I closed the space between us and boldly grabbed his chin, using one of his moves. “You just did.”
“Barely.”
“Maybe that’s the answer. One step at a time. One piece. No takebacks.” I was adamant about that last part. It hurt too much for him to give and then close himself off.
Was it what I wanted? Not entirely. I wanted him to give me everything, to have every vulnerable emotion in the palm of my hand. But I wasn’t heartless. If he could do this, I could compromise.
His silence was my answer.
I let out a slow breath and left him there, walking toward the library doors. Cato most likely heard everything, so hopefully he understood why I wouldn’t be staying to chat about dream-walking.
“Lucille.”
I stopped.
“No takebacks.”
