Page 119 of The Chains You Defy

And if I were honest with myself, the nagging voices in my head were like toxins.

What if Dion only mistook sympathy for something more? Or confused the physical attraction and the wish to possess with deeper feelings?

What if I believed him, and he’d figure out his mistake?

Or maybe all this stemmed from his need for dominance? Or that he wanted something, anything, to claim for himself alone, and he’d decreed the object of his obsession had to be me?

Was there a chance I was fussing about nothing?

Admitting this was hard, but I was scared that all those pretty words, all those declarations, would potentially turn sour.

At least, I was sure I’d never allow Dion to control me, no matter how fiercely loyal, devastatingly beautiful, and perfectly imperfect he was. But then again, he knew me and how stubborn and damaged I was. And still, he desired me? How could he?

Of course, I would grant him a chance. Surely, I could do that. Right?

That he’d break through my convictions and fears was highly unlikely, but after everything, he deserved at least some open-mindedness from me.

I eyed Dion from the side, and he appeared to be just as deep in contemplation as I was. Determination was still etched in every line of his face, and although he didn’t show any discomfort, I sensed that my silence was causing him pain.

Gods, what was wrong with me? This incredibly private male hadn’t only opened up to me but had also said so many beautiful things to me; other women would have swooned just because of a fraction of what he’d confessed, and I wasn’t even appreciating what he’d done. Gods, he’d kneeled in front of me. Kneeled.

Rewi’s voice joined the others in my head, and the biting comments she hurled at me didn’t help at all.

Dion must have sensed me observing him since he turned his head and caught my gaze.

His expression shook me because there wasn’t an ounce of pain or accusation in his amethyst depths. No, his eyes shone with resolve—and hope. “Don’t worry, Nayana. I’ll wait forever for you to admit that you and I are inevitable.”

This male. “Dion—”

“Keep one fact in mind. Fae don’t fall in love often or easily, but when we do, we immerse ourselves, and the result is all-consuming, intense, burning, and deep—and all that more than often for eternity. My species has flaws, admittedly, but being devoted and faithful? We are to a fault. If one of us commits to someone because of emotions, that’s it. The endgame. The most precious treasure of all. A rarity to protect and cherish at all costs. Does that scare you?”

“If I were totally honest, yes.” To my human standards, what he’d described sounded so much like an unhealthy obsession and not like a stable basis for any partnership.

Maybe that was one of the problems.

More often than not, I forgot that, just because Dion was humanoid-shaped, he was far from being a human. Accepting our cultural differences, in addition to the ones arising from being different species, could be the first step. Learning more about fae and their society while keeping my mind open would require time—which, much to my surprise, Dion was ready to grant me, even though he’d never been the most patient male.

“I’m glad it’s fear that’s holding you back. Because that’s something unfounded, and I’ll make convincingyou my mission. You care, but your own anxieties hold you hostage, and I’ll do everything in my power to give you the security to ease your apprehension. Any part of you being scared of any part of me is simply unacceptable. Everyone else can see me as an abomination for all that I care. But not you. Never you.” Dion’s voice was a seductive purr, defuncting certain parts of my rational brain. How was he always doing that?

And how could this male, who had such strong innate urges, deal with something akin to rejection so well? It was as if someone had handed me a part of a picture supposed to fit into the whole, but the color was off, and so were the shape and the design.

Dion’s jaw was set, determined to show me the truth behind his words. Gods, I didn’t deserve that. Didn’t deserve—him.

I was in dire need of a change in topic before I could start to loathe myself—enough others had done that for me today already.

So, I gently took his hand and sucked in a breath. “We should return to your ball before your grandfather explodes and decides that another punishment is in order.” I’d rather cross the Restless Desert on foot without carrying a drop of water with me, but someone had to be the voice of reason, and such a description didn’t fit the fae prince next to me at all.

To my biggest relief, though, he was much calmer, almost composed. How long had all this stewed in him? Since Amalach?

“You’re right. However, I’d rather face the Breocharn naked before taking you back into the shithole in there.”

“Do you know what’s funny?”

“Mh?”

“You always use the Breocharn as a metaphor when you really don’t want to do something but have to.”

“Yes, and?”