Page 175 of Esperance

He shook his head. “You don’t look sorry.”

“It’s just . . . I never thought you’d be worried about me. Not after you knew the truth.”

Despite all the fears, worry, and uncertainty, he felt his features soften. He leaned in, moving slowly because this was still new and fragile.

She met him, their lips brushing gently.

Heat shot down his spine and pooled low in his gut. He cupped the side of her neck, his thumb stroking her soft skin as he broke the tender kiss.

“I know there’s still a lot we need to figure out,” he whispered, his forehead pressed to hers. “But you’re not alone in this. All right?”

“All right.”

He eased back, his hand still resting against her neck. He could feel her thready pulse, and it grounded him.

“If I’m going to keep you safe,” he said, “I need to know who else knows about you. Besides Felinus and possibly Ivan.”

She sighed. “Tam knows.”

Saints. “That’s bad.”

“The worst part is, I don’t know who told her. She taunted me with it, but never actually said. But only three people knew about me before I came to Esperance.”

At least it was a relatively short list. He just didn’t like her rising tension. “Who?” he asked.

“My uncle Rix, but he wouldn’t have told anyone. He’s never even told Torin.”

Carver wasn’t ready to dismiss Rix out of hand, but he nodded to her. “Who else?”

She hesitated. “My father.”

Carver stilled. “You said your father was dead. That you lost your parents, and Rix was your only family.”

“He’s not.” She bit her lower lip. “My father isn’t dead. At least, not as far as I know. He just left me for dead a long time ago.”

Carver had questions—so many questions—but he didn’t ask them just yet. “And the last person who knew about you?”

A tremor went through her, and beneath his palm, her pulse quickened. Dread was in her eyes as she met his gaze. “Tiras. My brother.”

Carver stared at her. Confusion and shock mingled inside him, broken only by a slice of hurt. “You told me you didn’t have any siblings.”

A faint wince traced over her pale face. “I lied. But that’s not what’s important.”

It felt pretty bloody important to him. She’d lied about her father’s death, and her brother’s existence. But he tried to wrestle aside his own feelings so he could focus on her.

“Tiras is an empath,” Amryn said. “But he’s not like me.”

The small hairs on the back of Carver’s neck rose. “What does that mean?”

“I told you about my mother’s murder. That I was there. That someone saved me that night. It was Tiras.” Her voice was threaded with unmistakable fear. “He killed them. Four powerful men, and Tirasdestroyedthem. He was twelve years old.”

Carver stared at her. He had no words, only a growing sense of horror.

Amryn swallowed hard. “It’s because of empaths like Tiras that the rest of us are hunted. He is the reason everyone thinks we’re monsters. And if he’s the one who told the Rising about me . . . If he’s one of them . . . We’re all in grave danger.”