would be saved and they would all go their separate ways.
Forcing herself to breathe past the sudden lump in her throat, she said, “Red-Boar explained what happened with the stones and the demoness, so we can just take it as a ‘yeah-I-know’ and move on, I guess.”
That had been how she and Rabbit had sometimes ended their fights. The shorthand had allowed them to walk away from the dispute without really settling it, because it could mean anything from “this is stupid and I don’t want to fight anymore” to “I’m sorry, I love you and I won’t ever do it again.” It didn’t matter, as long as the other person’s expected response would be: “Yeah, I know.” It had gotten them out of a few of their more serious fights—over her rituals, his secrecy, her ambition. And it would work now, not because it would really solve anything, but because they didn’t
need
to solve anything. They just needed to find a way to tolerate each other for the next three weeks.
But Rabbit shook his head, expression set. “That’s not good enough. Not anymore. Maybe it never should’ve been.”
Nerves tugged at the knowledge that he was talking about their last few months together, when things between them had been strained even before the demoness made contact. “You don’t have to—”
“Yeah. I really do.” He reached out and took her hand.
“Hey!” She yanked away.
“Please.” He held out his hand, palm up to show both his forearm marks and his sacrificial scars.
“If you say ‘trust me’ I’m going to kick you where it hurts.” She was bluffing, though, trying to stay angry when she was suddenly all too aware of the new scars on his chest, arms and back. She didn’t want to feel sorry for him, didn’t want to feel anything for him.
He shook his head. “I don’t want you to trust me. I want you to read me.”
“You . . . Oh.” The mind-bender’s talent was the ultimate human lie detector, after all.
“You don’t have to do it,” Dez said when she hesitated.
That decided it for her. “I’ll do it,” she said, reaching for him. She was determined to stand on her own and be a teammate that the others could rely on. She shuddered inwardly, though, when his fingers closed around hers, firm and warm.
He placed her hand flat against his chest, then covered it with his own. “Look inside me,” he ordered. “Believe me.”
She was acutely aware of the ridged scars beneath her palm, the steady beat of his heart beneath that. Through the mind-bender’s magic she could feel his urgency and forthrightness, along with a deep, pained exhaustion. She didn’t open herself any further to the magic, though; she really didn’t want to know what lay beneath that, and she sure as hell didn’t want to read his mind or experience his memories. Her own were bad enough.
So, blocking all but the surface emotions, she nodded, “Go ahead.”
“It’s not enough to say I’m sorry, not even close.” His voice vibrated beneath her palm. “But, I
am
sorry, Myr. I’m so fucking sorry for what I did to you. I’ve spent the past two months going over and over it again in my head, torturing myself with it, but in the end there isn’t really anything more I can say except that I’m sorry.”
The apology resonated, though.
Don’t,
she told herself.
Don’t trust him. Don’t believe in him. Don’t let yourself rely on him, lose yourself in him
. Because that had been the worst of it, really. It hadn’t been until he was gone, until she had healed, that she stepped back and realized that she had gotten so involved in being the crossover’s girlfriend, she had stopped trying to be herself.
Pulling her hand away, she took a big step back, until she couldn’t feel his body heat anymore. “Apology accepted.”
His pale blue eyes narrowed. “Seriously?”
“You’re not the only Nightkeeper to do shitty things under the influence, and now that I’ve experienced the magic firsthand, I get how
Forcing herself to breathe past the sudden lump in her throat, she said, “Red-Boar explained what happened with the stones and the demoness, so we can just take it as a ‘yeah-I-know’ and move on, I guess.”
That had been how she and Rabbit had sometimes ended their fights. The shorthand had allowed them to walk away from the dispute without really settling it, because it could mean anything from “this is stupid and I don’t want to fight anymore” to “I’m sorry, I love you and I won’t ever do it again.” It didn’t matter, as long as the other person’s expected response would be: “Yeah, I know.” It had gotten them out of a few of their more serious fights—over her rituals, his secrecy, her ambition. And it would work now, not because it would really solve anything, but because they didn’t
need
to solve anything. They just needed to find a way to tolerate each other for the next three weeks.
But Rabbit shook his head, expression set. “That’s not good enough. Not anymore. Maybe it never should’ve been.”
Nerves tugged at the knowledge that he was talking about their last few months together, when things between them had been strained even before the demoness made contact. “You don’t have to—”
“Yeah. I really do.” He reached out and took her hand.
“Hey!” She yanked away.
“Please.” He held out his hand, palm up to show both his forearm marks and his sacrificial scars.
“If you say ‘trust me’ I’m going to kick you where it hurts.” She was bluffing, though, trying to stay angry when she was suddenly all too aware of the new scars on his chest, arms and back. She didn’t want to feel sorry for him, didn’t want to feel anything for him.
He shook his head. “I don’t want you to trust me. I want you to read me.”
“You . . . Oh.” The mind-bender’s talent was the ultimate human lie detector, after all.
“You don’t have to do it,” Dez said when she hesitated.
That decided it for her. “I’ll do it,” she said, reaching for him. She was determined to stand on her own and be a teammate that the others could rely on. She shuddered inwardly, though, when his fingers closed around hers, firm and warm.
He placed her hand flat against his chest, then covered it with his own. “Look inside me,” he ordered. “Believe me.”
She was acutely aware of the ridged scars beneath her palm, the steady beat of his heart beneath that. Through the mind-bender’s magic she could feel his urgency and forthrightness, along with a deep, pained exhaustion. She didn’t open herself any further to the magic, though; she really didn’t want to know what lay beneath that, and she sure as hell didn’t want to read his mind or experience his memories. Her own were bad enough.
So, blocking all but the surface emotions, she nodded, “Go ahead.”
“It’s not enough to say I’m sorry, not even close.” His voice vibrated beneath her palm. “But, I
am
sorry, Myr. I’m so fucking sorry for what I did to you. I’ve spent the past two months going over and over it again in my head, torturing myself with it, but in the end there isn’t really anything more I can say except that I’m sorry.”
The apology resonated, though.
Don’t,
she told herself.
Don’t trust him. Don’t believe in him. Don’t let yourself rely on him, lose yourself in him
. Because that had been the worst of it, really. It hadn’t been until he was gone, until she had healed, that she stepped back and realized that she had gotten so involved in being the crossover’s girlfriend, she had stopped trying to be herself.
Pulling her hand away, she took a big step back, until she couldn’t feel his body heat anymore. “Apology accepted.”
His pale blue eyes narrowed. “Seriously?”
“You’re not the only Nightkeeper to do shitty things under the influence, and now that I’ve experienced the magic firsthand, I get how
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