burned to the ground.”
Myriad emotions seemed to fly over her face as she tried to
comprehend what he was saying. He couldn’t articulate his disgrace, his shame
at seeing those who had trusted him hurt by his rashness, at realizing all he
had done was not out of love for his people, but for selfish
self-aggrandizement. He’d deserved to see his true name fade into obscurity,
even while the name he’d been forced to bear had lived on, taunting him through
the millennia.
“Now you see why I sometimes wish I could be without
feelings, able to see and not react.” He tried to smile, but it faded away
before being fully formed. “My pride and temper are not to be trusted.”
Her gaze sharpened, bored into his for a long, solemn moment.
“Are you the same being you were—still judgmental and angry at your banishment,
the loss of your name?”
There was no need to consider. “Not exactly, although I’m
still impulsive and quick tempered.”
She lifted one finely arched eyebrow. “And when last have
you hurled a lightning bolt at anyone?”
That made him smile, just a little. “I haven’t since, but I
have been tempted—and I did throw a vamp over the railing from upstairs into
the café tonight.”
Gràinne shook her head before she replied. “That doesn’t
count. You knew the vampire wouldn’t be hurt.” Her arms tightened fractionally
around his waist. “Isn’t it time to put aside your guilt?”
For the first time he truly wished he could, but that would
be unconscionable. “What I did was inexcusable, and the burden of guilt I bear
cannot be put down, if only in honor of those I hurt and destroyed.”
Gràinne’s eyes grew distant, the smoky rings becoming more
pronounced, and he wondered what she was thinking, seeing. Then she blinked,
once more focused on his face, and the strangely disquieting moment passed.
“Perhaps you are right. Some things are too important to ever forget, but you
can still forgive yourself. There is no loss of honor, either to yourself or
those you hurt, in that.”
As though suddenly exhausted, she laid her cheek on his
shoulder, her eyes fluttering closed.
How he wished it were that simple, but it wasn’t.
Forgiveness was out of the question. To him it equated with a release from
responsibility. Even now, if he allowed it, the memory of the roaring flames,
the screams and fear of those he was charged with protecting could overpower
him. Millennia may have passed in the human world but it was as fresh in his
mind as though it occurred yesterday. Sometimes the shame of it was like a
spiked club battering his conscience, driving away peace, forcing him out into
the night to hurl lightning across the sky to work off his impotent rage.
From what he’d deduced, Gràinne thought the tattoo would
give her back all the emotions she’d been unable to feel. After what had
happened, when she’d been swamped by memories, did she still need it or even
want to subject herself to that type of agony again?
There was a part of him that wanted to ignore it all, not
say anything. The ramifications of all she’d told him, what he’d seen, tore at
him. Emotion, even physical sensation, was new to her. Whatever happened
between them was, for her, simply an offshoot of what she was going through, a
natural reaction to her burgeoning feelings and proximity to a male who wanted
her with unnatural fierceness. It wouldn’t last, he was sure, once having those
emotions and reactions were familiar.
“Jakuta.”
She whispered it, and his arms tightened instinctively, his
heart clenching at her tone. “Yes, sweetness?”
“I’m frightened.”
“I know.” Turning his head, he kissed her cheek, resisting
the need to take her lips again, to tell her he’d protect and take care of her,
that all would be well. Promises he had no way of keeping. “Do you still want
the tattoo? It’s not too late to change your mind.”
“I think—” She burrowed closer, lips brushing his neck
Myriad emotions seemed to fly over her face as she tried to
comprehend what he was saying. He couldn’t articulate his disgrace, his shame
at seeing those who had trusted him hurt by his rashness, at realizing all he
had done was not out of love for his people, but for selfish
self-aggrandizement. He’d deserved to see his true name fade into obscurity,
even while the name he’d been forced to bear had lived on, taunting him through
the millennia.
“Now you see why I sometimes wish I could be without
feelings, able to see and not react.” He tried to smile, but it faded away
before being fully formed. “My pride and temper are not to be trusted.”
Her gaze sharpened, bored into his for a long, solemn moment.
“Are you the same being you were—still judgmental and angry at your banishment,
the loss of your name?”
There was no need to consider. “Not exactly, although I’m
still impulsive and quick tempered.”
She lifted one finely arched eyebrow. “And when last have
you hurled a lightning bolt at anyone?”
That made him smile, just a little. “I haven’t since, but I
have been tempted—and I did throw a vamp over the railing from upstairs into
the café tonight.”
Gràinne shook her head before she replied. “That doesn’t
count. You knew the vampire wouldn’t be hurt.” Her arms tightened fractionally
around his waist. “Isn’t it time to put aside your guilt?”
For the first time he truly wished he could, but that would
be unconscionable. “What I did was inexcusable, and the burden of guilt I bear
cannot be put down, if only in honor of those I hurt and destroyed.”
Gràinne’s eyes grew distant, the smoky rings becoming more
pronounced, and he wondered what she was thinking, seeing. Then she blinked,
once more focused on his face, and the strangely disquieting moment passed.
“Perhaps you are right. Some things are too important to ever forget, but you
can still forgive yourself. There is no loss of honor, either to yourself or
those you hurt, in that.”
As though suddenly exhausted, she laid her cheek on his
shoulder, her eyes fluttering closed.
How he wished it were that simple, but it wasn’t.
Forgiveness was out of the question. To him it equated with a release from
responsibility. Even now, if he allowed it, the memory of the roaring flames,
the screams and fear of those he was charged with protecting could overpower
him. Millennia may have passed in the human world but it was as fresh in his
mind as though it occurred yesterday. Sometimes the shame of it was like a
spiked club battering his conscience, driving away peace, forcing him out into
the night to hurl lightning across the sky to work off his impotent rage.
From what he’d deduced, Gràinne thought the tattoo would
give her back all the emotions she’d been unable to feel. After what had
happened, when she’d been swamped by memories, did she still need it or even
want to subject herself to that type of agony again?
There was a part of him that wanted to ignore it all, not
say anything. The ramifications of all she’d told him, what he’d seen, tore at
him. Emotion, even physical sensation, was new to her. Whatever happened
between them was, for her, simply an offshoot of what she was going through, a
natural reaction to her burgeoning feelings and proximity to a male who wanted
her with unnatural fierceness. It wouldn’t last, he was sure, once having those
emotions and reactions were familiar.
“Jakuta.”
She whispered it, and his arms tightened instinctively, his
heart clenching at her tone. “Yes, sweetness?”
“I’m frightened.”
“I know.” Turning his head, he kissed her cheek, resisting
the need to take her lips again, to tell her he’d protect and take care of her,
that all would be well. Promises he had no way of keeping. “Do you still want
the tattoo? It’s not too late to change your mind.”
“I think—” She burrowed closer, lips brushing his neck
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