Page 47

“I guess the heat got to the both of us.” I clear my throat, suddenly both glad they air doesn’t feel thicker and darkly angry that it doesn’t. “I should get going.” Calmly, I slide off the bed but Rowan stands as well, blocking my path.

“You never told me what you were doing here.”

No, I didn’t. “It’s none of your business, like I already said.” When he doesn’t budge, I glower at him. “I need to put my clothes on, Rowan. Move.”

“Tell me why you came all this way. It wasn’t to get fucked.”

The unexpected desire to slice his dick off fuels my anger until I swear I’m seeing red. Could he stop being so crass about it when my head feels all tangled up? Rationality and I don't appear to be on speaking terms at the moment. The sudden weight of my sword settles in my hand, unsheathed and reflecting Rowan’s naked image back at himself. “Get out of my way.”

“Keres.”

“Unless you want to know what it feels like to have to regrow your dick to your body, move aside.”

“You can’t be serious,” he growls. “Are you that emotional that I fucked you to help with your symptoms of the heat?”

He must want to be stabbed, that has to be why he’s still standing in my way. “I didn’t come here for you,” I practically shout. My words stop him short. Long enough for me to slip past him and into the living room to gather my clothes.

“Stop,” Rowan snarls as he steps into the room.

Ignoring him, I pick up my shirt and begin to button it up, not caring how wet it feels.

“Keres–”

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m not speaking to you. I’m trying to get dressed and leave. We don’t need to continue this absurd conversation.”

“While my cum is dripping down your thighs, I think you should heed me.”

The rotten bastard! Spying the cloth from earlier on the ground, I bend down and begin cleaning myself of his presence, not caring he’s in full view to watch. After I finish, I toss the cloth to the side and grab my pants. “There, I’m not wearing your scent anymore.”

Rowan’s rattle shakes the floors beneath our feet. His eyes flash black for a moment as he watches me yank the pants up my hips and begin to lace them. His voice barely sounds like himself as he rages, “Who were you here to find?”

Stomping my feet into my boots, I don’t bother lacing them as I snatch my sword off the chair from where I previously threw it to get dressed. “I’ll let you know when I see them.”

After all, right now sounds like a fantastic time to work off my anger while targeting a certain Lady.

Rowan steps in front of the main door. “You’re not going out there to fuck any of my people!”

Taken aback, I barely have the control to not swing my sword at his dick for daring to impose such a thing about me. “I’m not trying to fuck anyone!” I roar at him, feeling my limbs begin to shake at the audacity and anger flooding my body. “I’m trying to die, remember?” I’m screaming by the time the words finish leaving my mouth.

Never has anyone made me lose my temper the way this man has. I suck in a deep breath, trying to calm myself down but it takes several tries to regain control of my body. The emotions beating at my walls are slowly seeping inside.

Suddenly, I feel tired. Defeated. Like this never ending life is only going to continue to go on because of other people’s desires to watch me break. And for the first time, I feel like a piece of me does.

Rowan’s voice is calmer now, though detached from emotion as he stares at me. “You’re here to kill someone.”

I shrug, but there’s no feeling left inside of me to care if he knows the truth or not. “You said to show you I mean it.”

“Who?” Rowan’s tight voice is barely being held together. He probably thinks he sounds calm right now asking, but he’s far from it.

Like I’m dumb enough to give away my end game. “Kill me now. You’ll never have to worry about it.”

“Who, Keres?”

Instead I remain silent, glaring at him though the broken piece inside of me begins to rattle in my chest.

I’ll never know what it feels like to be so consumed with protecting others, for caring about someone else outside of myself. I envy Rowan for having the emotional range to think about his people, about himself in a way I have never been allowed to.

For the first time in so long, a tear slides down my face at the memory of what I have lost being who I am. The idea of family, of protection, of home. Of the people I will never remember who raised me. How their faces are voids in my mind, blank and staring back at me as they lie in pools of blood. Of all the evil I have done and can’t undo.