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I can see anger brewing in his eyes now, even underneath the sheen of tears. “It isn’t? It sounds like I come from a long line of monsters, Key. It sounds like we were monsters long before this kelpie showed up and made it our reality. Itsoundslike we got what we bloody deserved.”

“Look at me.” I grab his face with both hands, forcing him to do just that. “Do you remember what you told me? Back in that room where he kept her?”

“Och, and he kept her bloodyprisonerfor no other reason than to siphon off her magic like some sort of leeching bastard. Because it isn’t bad enough that he—”

I squeeze his cheeks, making it harder for him to talk. “You told me that I was no more to blame for the past than you were. That I was here now. That I was trying to make it right. You saidthatis what matters.” I can see the way he averts his eyes, but I move my head to follow his line of sight, making sure he can’t look away from me. “That works in reverse too. Do you hear me? You arenotto blame for something some evil guy with your last name did almost seven centuries ago. You didn’t do those things—hedid. You arenothim, do you understand?”

“Am I really so different?” His shoulders droop in defeat, his eyes wrenching shut. “Look at how I treated you when I met you. Like some sort of pariah only because of your last name. Like I was somehowbetterthan you because of mine. Am Ireallyso different, Keyanna?”

“You are,” I stress. “Youare.” I rest my forehead against his,stroking my thumb across his cheek. “Ofcourseyou acted that way when we met. You’ve been brought up your entire life thinking that my family was the reason why you lost your father, why you might lose yourself. I don’t blame you for how you were in the beginning. I understand it. Hell, I might have done the same if our roles were reversed. I know you’re different because you went through life being told one singular thing was true, that it held weight above everything else, and yet when faced with the opportunity to trust me, you weren’t afraid tochange your mind. You. Not your dad, not your dickish old ancestor.You. You made those decisions on your own. You dropped all that bullshit about a curse and blame and youtrustedme based on whatyouknew to be true.” I press a gentle kiss to his mouth, letting it linger for a second. “You had the chance to repeat your family’s mistakes, and you went your own way. Do you understand? You arenotwho you are because of where you come from; you are who you are because of whereyouchoose to go.”

A broken sound escapes his chest, and I pull him against me, wrapping my arms around his shoulders as his hands grip my waist, burying his face in my chest. I let my cheek rest against his and breathe him in, a mix of water and air and something inherently him—letting him shudder in my embrace as he no doubt tries to make peace with what I’ve said. I can’t imagine what he must be feeling; to think one way your entire life, to know something to be true spanning across generations, only to have it obliterated in one moment—it’s enough to drive someone mad if they let it. But I won’t let him fall apart. I’m ready and willing to hold him together, to make sure he doesn’t break.

“I don’t know if I deserve you,” he rasps against my sweater.

I nuzzle his hair. “You do.”

“You don’t understand,” he huffs, pulling back to look at me. “It’snot just this, Key. Not that this isn’t bloody awful, because it is, but it’s noteverything. I’m starting to think you deserve so much more than me.” His face looks pained, and my heart breaks a little. “Thanthis. This bloody headache. Especially since—” He swallows thickly, looking lost again. “I haven’t even— I need to tell you—”

He makes a surprised sound when I slant my lips across his, a protest bubbling up for a fraction of a moment before he melts into it. I can feel the tension leave his body with every second that his mouth is under mine, and I think to myself that if he won’t listen to metellinghim how I feel about him, I can damn well show him.

“Key,” he sighs dazedly. “Key, I need—”

“You need to shut up,” I murmur. “You’ve talked enough.”

He groans when I let my tongue slip past his lips, opening for me without thought. As if it’s second nature. And itfeelslike it is. Doesn’t he see that? Doesn’t he see that this connection between us feels like somethingmorethan just random chance?

I wind my fingers in his hair, tilting his head back to explore his mouth—keeping my kisses languid, slow, enjoying the feel and taste of him. With every passing moment I can feel him relax just a little more, and crawling into his lap is an easy decision. Molding my body against his is as easy as breathing. It feels like Ibelongthere, really.

I feel his hands burrowing under my sweater, his wide palms sliding up my back, searing me with their heat. Our kisses are a slow back-and-forth, a lazy give-and-take—his tongue chasing after mine with every retreat just as mine follows after his.

Usually when he undresses me, it’s quick, frantic—but this time, it’s slow. He peels my top off as if unwrapping a gift, my hair catching in the neckline for a moment and then cascading down to my shoulders. He eyes my body with a reverence that makes me feel more naked than any lack of clothes could, and I’ve never been moregrateful for boobs small enough to go sans bra than I was before I met Lachlan. Because I’ve noticed he seems to beobsessedwith them.

His hands are so large, they cover all of me, his palms kneading the soft mounds before his fingers pluck at my nipples, teasing them into points. He catches my gaze just as he leans in to suck one into his mouth, and my mouth parts on a gasp as his hot tongue swirls around the stiffening peak, sending shivers throughout my body.

This, I think.This is what I needed.

I needed to see that he still looks at me like I’m everything he wants when he touches me. That everything he learned today hasn’t changed the intensity of what he feels for me. That he’s as deep in this thing as I am quickly becoming.

I let him tease me for a moment more, enjoying the sensation of his mouth on me, finally shoving him back so I can rob him of his own shirt. I don’t stop there, reaching for the button of his jeans and quickly working them down and off, and he lets me do it without protest, watching as I strip him bare. Watching me even more intensely as I get rid of my own clothes.

His eyes are hooded when I urge him to his back, when I crawl over him to straddle his hips, and the way he looks at me…I could get addicted to the way Lachlan looks at me. Like I’m some otherworldly creature. At any other time I might find that thought funny, since I suppose that I…well. That I am. In a way.

I undulate my hips when I have him beneath me to let his hard cock glide through my wet folds, grinding down on the head of him until he makes a sound that’s practically a growl. His hands cover my thighs, squeezing and kneading like he’s trying to hold himself back, letting me set the pace, and I grind against him a few times more before I finally decide to put us both out of our misery, reaching between us to grab his cock, notching him against my slick opening.

I hold his gaze as I start to sink down, slowly taking him in inch by inch, feeling each one as they stretch me, as theyfillme—not stopping until we’re flush against each other, his cock as deep as it can be. His hands are making slow circles against my thighs now, stroking a hypnotizing pattern that I’m not even sure he’s aware of, his intense gaze roving over every inch of me reverently.

The microscopic changes in his expression when I start to move—the slight flush of his cheeks, the way his lids grow heavier, the barely there part of his mouth—each one makes me feel that much more desirable, that much bolder. I use my knees to pull off him, rising up until only the head of him rests inside me, lingering for a second or more before dropping back down all at once. His wide-eyed expression isn’t subtle then, the feral sound he makes even less so.

So I do it again. And again.And again.

I don’t know when he starts moving with me; one minute I’m setting the pace, controlling the rhythm, and the next—his hands are on my hips to hold me steady, his hips lifting from the bed at a ferocious pace so that I’m practically bouncing on his cock. I throw my head back as he hits deep with every stroke, the thick head of his cock stroking the sensitive inner wall, bumping against that place that has pressure already building low in my belly.

Usually he would be talking right now, spewing words of filth that would make me that much hotter for him—but something about his quiet makes this…moresomehow. Like he doesn’t want words to take away from the crackling energy that seems to be sparking between us. One I can feel like a physical thing. Surely he can feel it too. Hehasto.

I don’t have to ask him to give me more; his thumb finds my clit and he starts to stroke it with just the right amount of pressure, like he knows what I need without me asking. He swipes back and forthagainst the sensitive hood, his slow ministrations at direct odds with the still vicious pace of his cock pounding inside me. The dueling sensations have me climbing higher and higher, reaching a peak that feels all too soon.

My thighs start to shake, and my insides begin to tremble, and I feel it; it’sright there.