“A family without fame or accolades,” Killian says with no real enthusiasm.
He’s not even trying, is he? “Accolades.” I wrap my arms around myself and pretend I’m being cuddled. “They keep you so warm at night.”
He covers his mouth—to stop a laugh?
“You want to know what Troika doesn’t do? Surgically insert a tracker inside a human.” I meet Brigitte’s confused gaze. “You should find yourself a Troikan doctor, get yourself checked.”
She begins to shake, the color draining from her cheeks, leaving her waxen. In a burst of movement, she stands, her chair skidding behind her. She backs away from us. “I don’t want to hear any more. I’ve never liked discussing the Unending, and you two are only making it worse. As realm representatives, you are lacking. Besides, you obviously have a lot to work out. Among yourselves! I’m not needed.”
I don’t try to stop her, because I’ve said everything I know to say. I’ve given her things to think about. I’ve planted seeds, as Levi would say.
To my surprise, Killian doesn’t try to stop her, either. As she races off, we stare at each other, trapped by an ever-thickening tension.
“Alone at last.” His tone gives nothing away. “Just the way Myriad wanted. You’re happy, but you shouldn’t be.”
“You mean you hope I’m happy, sarcastically speaking.”
“Not sarcastically. The Greek root for hope is elpís, which means an unwavering assurance of an expected outcome.”
Oh. “Then no. I’m not happy. Not yet. But I hope I will be.”
I stand, lean over and cup the back of Killian’s neck, yanking him toward me.
chapter twenty
* * *
“Every thought has merit.”
—Myriad
Killian doesn’t accept my kiss—he returns it. His fingers tangle in my hair, fisting the strands at my nape. It’s not a power move meant to dominate me, but a possessive one, as if he fears I’ll be snatched away at any moment. The same possessiveness roars inside me.
I burn with desire, despite the muted physical sensations caused by my Shell. I’m being branded deep in my soul, and I’m desperate to hold on to him...to hold on and never let go.
He was my last kiss. I want him to be my only kiss.
His lips are soft and silken as his tongue thrusts and rolls against mine, his sweet taste stripping away my defenses one by one, leaving me vulnerable and raw; I love it. I love him.
Different sensations pour through me. Sultry heat. Electricity in my veins, pulsing through muscle and bone. Inside my Shell, my skin grows sensitive. Every move I make, every breath I take, creates an irresistible friction that only makes the heat and electricity worse—or better. Yes, definitely better.
My stomach quivers, delicious pressure throbbing in different parts of me. The first pressure I’ve ever enjoyed. I’m caught up in a whirlwind of sensation, every cell in my body coming alive. I’m a girl with a purpose—to love the boy who loves me. And this kiss...the kiss is wild, heady. It makes up for every moment we’ve spent apart, every fight we’ve ever had, and grounds me in a reality I cannot deny: I’m willing to die for this boy.
Whispers, then giggles and cheers slam into my awareness. We aren’t being watched by Troika, but we’re certainly being watched by people. Killian and I break apart, and both of us are panting. His gaze remains hot on mine, and my cheeks flush.
“Let’s get out of here.” He grabs my hand and leads me away from our audience, zigzagging around the tables. On the sidewalk, his pace increases, his stride long and fast.
“The Buckler—”
“Trust me. I’m not ready to die. I’ll avoid the borders.”
“Are your Flankers nearby?” I search the shadows. “Does your realm have an Eye? Is your boss watching you?”
“I told Myriad you might not show up if too many MLs were in the area. And right now, the Buckler is blocking me from my boss.” He throws a wicked grin over his shoulder, and I swear my bones melt. “I think I hoped you’d come.”
I’m in big-time trouble. That grin...
It’s the beginning of my undoing.
If anyone has the power to hurt me, it’s Killian. Since we met, he’s had a strange hold on me, as if we’re somehow linked.
Could he be the fox?
The stray thought knocks the air from my lungs. Killian may have changed, may love me, may be willing to die for me, but even at his best he believes winners are adored and failures are abhorred. He craves the attention and affection he never received as a child. Something I understand.
My parents were good to me...at first. The older I became, the more involved they became in their work. Dad was a representative in the House of Myriad, helping to pass realm laws for humans. Mom had her paintings. One day, I woke up, cooked my own breakfast and realized I had been raising myself for years.
They spent time with me only when I required discipline, and the knowledge had hurt. Badly. I’d become an afterthought to the people who were supposed to love me.
At sixteen, I became a bargaining chip.
Because of my supposed Fusing with a Myriadian General, the realm offered my parents more money, more fame—but only if I made covenant.
I wasn’t a daughter. I was a key.
The look Killian gives me is fraught with anger and sadness, as if he’s reading my mind. “I once asked you to trust me, no matter what. I asked for a good reason. You said you did. You said you would. Have you changed your mind?”
He’s not even trying, is he? “Accolades.” I wrap my arms around myself and pretend I’m being cuddled. “They keep you so warm at night.”
He covers his mouth—to stop a laugh?
“You want to know what Troika doesn’t do? Surgically insert a tracker inside a human.” I meet Brigitte’s confused gaze. “You should find yourself a Troikan doctor, get yourself checked.”
She begins to shake, the color draining from her cheeks, leaving her waxen. In a burst of movement, she stands, her chair skidding behind her. She backs away from us. “I don’t want to hear any more. I’ve never liked discussing the Unending, and you two are only making it worse. As realm representatives, you are lacking. Besides, you obviously have a lot to work out. Among yourselves! I’m not needed.”
I don’t try to stop her, because I’ve said everything I know to say. I’ve given her things to think about. I’ve planted seeds, as Levi would say.
To my surprise, Killian doesn’t try to stop her, either. As she races off, we stare at each other, trapped by an ever-thickening tension.
“Alone at last.” His tone gives nothing away. “Just the way Myriad wanted. You’re happy, but you shouldn’t be.”
“You mean you hope I’m happy, sarcastically speaking.”
“Not sarcastically. The Greek root for hope is elpís, which means an unwavering assurance of an expected outcome.”
Oh. “Then no. I’m not happy. Not yet. But I hope I will be.”
I stand, lean over and cup the back of Killian’s neck, yanking him toward me.
chapter twenty
* * *
“Every thought has merit.”
—Myriad
Killian doesn’t accept my kiss—he returns it. His fingers tangle in my hair, fisting the strands at my nape. It’s not a power move meant to dominate me, but a possessive one, as if he fears I’ll be snatched away at any moment. The same possessiveness roars inside me.
I burn with desire, despite the muted physical sensations caused by my Shell. I’m being branded deep in my soul, and I’m desperate to hold on to him...to hold on and never let go.
He was my last kiss. I want him to be my only kiss.
His lips are soft and silken as his tongue thrusts and rolls against mine, his sweet taste stripping away my defenses one by one, leaving me vulnerable and raw; I love it. I love him.
Different sensations pour through me. Sultry heat. Electricity in my veins, pulsing through muscle and bone. Inside my Shell, my skin grows sensitive. Every move I make, every breath I take, creates an irresistible friction that only makes the heat and electricity worse—or better. Yes, definitely better.
My stomach quivers, delicious pressure throbbing in different parts of me. The first pressure I’ve ever enjoyed. I’m caught up in a whirlwind of sensation, every cell in my body coming alive. I’m a girl with a purpose—to love the boy who loves me. And this kiss...the kiss is wild, heady. It makes up for every moment we’ve spent apart, every fight we’ve ever had, and grounds me in a reality I cannot deny: I’m willing to die for this boy.
Whispers, then giggles and cheers slam into my awareness. We aren’t being watched by Troika, but we’re certainly being watched by people. Killian and I break apart, and both of us are panting. His gaze remains hot on mine, and my cheeks flush.
“Let’s get out of here.” He grabs my hand and leads me away from our audience, zigzagging around the tables. On the sidewalk, his pace increases, his stride long and fast.
“The Buckler—”
“Trust me. I’m not ready to die. I’ll avoid the borders.”
“Are your Flankers nearby?” I search the shadows. “Does your realm have an Eye? Is your boss watching you?”
“I told Myriad you might not show up if too many MLs were in the area. And right now, the Buckler is blocking me from my boss.” He throws a wicked grin over his shoulder, and I swear my bones melt. “I think I hoped you’d come.”
I’m in big-time trouble. That grin...
It’s the beginning of my undoing.
If anyone has the power to hurt me, it’s Killian. Since we met, he’s had a strange hold on me, as if we’re somehow linked.
Could he be the fox?
The stray thought knocks the air from my lungs. Killian may have changed, may love me, may be willing to die for me, but even at his best he believes winners are adored and failures are abhorred. He craves the attention and affection he never received as a child. Something I understand.
My parents were good to me...at first. The older I became, the more involved they became in their work. Dad was a representative in the House of Myriad, helping to pass realm laws for humans. Mom had her paintings. One day, I woke up, cooked my own breakfast and realized I had been raising myself for years.
They spent time with me only when I required discipline, and the knowledge had hurt. Badly. I’d become an afterthought to the people who were supposed to love me.
At sixteen, I became a bargaining chip.
Because of my supposed Fusing with a Myriadian General, the realm offered my parents more money, more fame—but only if I made covenant.
I wasn’t a daughter. I was a key.
The look Killian gives me is fraught with anger and sadness, as if he’s reading my mind. “I once asked you to trust me, no matter what. I asked for a good reason. You said you did. You said you would. Have you changed your mind?”
