Torn
Page 91

 Jennifer L. Armentrout

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I opened my mouth, but he . . . he was right. God, Ren was right. I knew who I was. That Ivy was still inside me—under the coldness and the darkness, she was still there. I would’ve never fed on anyone if I had a choice, but I hadn’t had one. This was different now, though. Before, I hadn’t known I could feed, but I could, and it was horrifically simple. All I had to do was want it and inhale.
Fear formed in my stomach, settling like a heavy knot, and I let go of my robe. “But what if I hurt you?” I whispered. Tears blurred my vision. “I could never live with myself. That would be it. That’s my breaking point.”
Ren was wicked fast.
Clasping my cheeks, he lowered his mouth to mine and kissed me with not a moment of hesitation or doubt. He wasn’t careful, and there was no fear in his kiss. His mouth parted mine, and it was hungry and desperate, raw and tortured, and full of a thousand other emotions, but most importantly, it was full of love. Then I was kissing him back, my fingers grabbing the front of his shirt. One of his hands left my cheek and fisted my hair. And I knew this wasn’t going to turn into something twisted. I didn’t want that from him. I didn’t want that from anyone.
I just wanted him.
Ren loved me.
He was in love with me.
Oh God, the kiss tasted like him—like toothpaste and Ren—and he was warm, every part of him. His hands, his lips, his tongue. This was him kissing me. This was him loving me. This wasn’t lust and this wasn’t a trick. I knew that in my core, in my very bones, and in my soul.
He pulled back, breathing heavily. “You would never hurt me. Never. It’s not because I love you. It’s because you love me.”
I stared up at him and then . . . then the worst possible thing happened. Or the best possible thing. I started to speak, but a sob came out, the messy kind, and the tears I’d been holding back for what felt like forever burst free.
Somehow we made it to the floor in front of the bed. I don’t even know how, but I was half in his lap, half sitting on the floor, and our arms were around each other. He held me like he had never expected to do it again.
I had never expected him to.
“It’s okay,” he said, arms tight around me. “It’s okay.”
Ren kept saying that, over and over. And I wanted it to be okay. I wanted to explore the ray of light his words had created. I wanted to focus on the fact that against all odds, despite everything, Ren loved me, and I loved him, and we were together. We were in each other’s arms, and there was something so powerful about that, but there was a lot of darkness in me, a lot of coldness, and a lot that Ren didn’t know.
But he knew enough and he still . . . he was still here, and he was still holding me. Ren still loved me.
Hands clenching his shirt, I pressed my face against his chest, inhaling the fresh outdoorsy scent that always clung to him. I cried and my entire body shook with the force of my tears. My cheeks were soaked. The front of his shirt was damp, but I couldn’t stop crying. The tears were for him and everything he’d gone through, what he’d suffered. The tears were for Val, and there was still a well of grief for her that I realized in that moment I hadn’t even fully tapped into. I cried for the woman I’d fed on.
And I cried for me.
I sobbed for everything I’d seen and the things I’d been told. For what I had to sacrifice to get Ren out of there and just keep my head above water. I cried for everything I’d been forced to do, and I knew it would be a long time before the ghost of those actions stopped haunting me.
And those tears came from the dark, cold place inside me that his words, those three beautiful words, had begun to thaw and shine light upon.
Chapter Thirty-Two
My body gave out at some point, and I passed out on the floor, curled up between Ren’s legs and against his chest. I vaguely remember him putting me to bed, and he stayed next to me for a long time. I knew this because I woke in the middle of the night and didn’t recognize the room.
Panic exploded through me like buckshot, and I shot straight up in bed. For a horrible series of seconds, I thought I was back in the other bedroom, locked away and waiting for the prince to show. I’d reached for my neck, feeling for the metal collar.
Ren had woken to find me sitting up and feeling my neck like a freak, and he seemed to know what was going on inside my head. He’d wrapped his arm around my waist and eased me back down beside him.
“You’re here,” he’d whispered into the dark room. “You’re here with me.”
I’d eventually fallen back to sleep, and I slept like the dead. There was a good chance I didn’t move once. I might have even snored. I don’t know. I just remember listening to Ren’s calming voice, and then when I opened my eyes again, daylight was streaming into the room, and I was alone.
Rolling over onto my side, I winced as my muscles ached and protested at the movement. I noted how that was different from all the other times I’d woken up after such a deep sleep. The difference was, I had fed those times. But I didn’t want to look too closely at that. Not right now.
I scanned the room, my gaze landing on the sofa in front of the TV. My heartbeat sped up as I saw Ren rising and turning to me.
Relief was etched into every line of his face. “Hey there,” he said, approaching the bed. “I was beginning to wonder if you were going to wake up.”
Feeling a little dizzy, I sat up and pushed the matted strands of my hair back from my face. “How long have I’ve been sleeping?” My voice was hoarse.