Before I can finish, his finger is in my face. “Don’t start.”
“Don’t start?” The flames of annoyance that had flickered in me just moments before spew into a wave of molten anger. I ball my hands into fists. “I came here to warn you! To do my best to protect your people!”
“My people? Don’t pretend to care about my people. All you’ve ever cared about is yourself!”
I stagger back, the blow striking me harder than I imagined anything he’d ever say to me could. That’s what happens when you know someone for as long as Rowland and I have though. We know where the tender parts are, how to apply force with precision, and how to leave scars instead of just bruises.
And somehow despite the number of years we’ve known each other, Rowland still doesn’t understand me. He never has, and at this point I’m not sure he ever will.
For him, sticking together is how he shows his love and loyalty, his devotion. When Hulbeck fell, he scoured the town until he found his mother, cornered and cowering before two noctis. He’d came across someone earlier too, someone who had been bitten but hadn’t turned yet. They offered their life to help him, but he was determined to make sure they survived. When he charged the noctis with a rake, spearing one in the heart, he didn’t know the human had taken their life and hastened their transformation until the newly-created ghoul was lunging for the other noctis. The way he tells the story, he even debated on bringing the ghoul with him and his mother as they fled, on the off chance that there could be a cure. Ultimately, his mother convinced him to put the poor thing out of its misery, a statement of loyalty and respect in its own way.
I’ve always been built different than he is. When the monsters came and destroyed our village, I learned that my survival was dependent on my silence, on remaining hidden, on my isolation.
That doesn’t mean that I don’t care. In fact, it’s the opposite.
It’s because I care so deeply that I stay away from him and the others. It’s because I can’t stand the thought of forming friendships just to watch them all die at the hands of monsters that I’ve chosen to live on my own. It’s just easier this way. This way, I don’t have to hurt whenever I find out that some of his people are missing. I don’t have to know their names, or whether they had living relatives. I don’t even have to see their faces later tonight when I lay down for bed.
If wanting to avoid all of that heartbreak makes me heartless, then so be it. It sure beats being foolish enough to think that living in a place like this will last long.
“You know what?” I say at last. “I don’t know why I expected a thank you, but it doesn’t matter. I came here to tell you what I’d heard, and I did. Do with that information what you will, but I’ve done my part.”
Turning on my heels, I move toward the door, but his hand catches the crook of my elbow. He holds me in place, fingers twitching as if they’d like to do something more.
“Thank you.”
Slowly, I turn to face him. I hadn’t realized how close he was, but now I can feel the warmth of his breath against my lips.
I shouldn’t want him. I never should.
Yet somehow, I always do.
Every time he touches me, my body sings a chorus as bright and breathtaking as an early-morning sunrise. When he’s not near me, my chest is hollow and aching. But all it takes is one caress—and sometimes even just a glance—for that dark pit inside me to feel full again, as if the wide chasms are stitched back together, and my pieces are made whole.
It’s not real though, I remind myself. This life he’s carved out for himself, the life he tries promising me every time I’m with him, it’s not real.
This community will fall.
Hewill fall.
And I can’t be here when it happens.
“Rowland—”
The panic in his gaze stops me from finishing the half-formed thought. I almost regret it the moment he starts leaning forward, eyes closing, lips parting.
Not here. Not here. We shouldn’t do this here—
Our lips meet and my mind stills. My breath hitches. I inhale the sweet taste of him and it’s like no time has passed at all between us.
I know this is wrong. I know it can’t work. But part of me wishes it could. Part of me wishes I could throw myself into him fully. Give him every part of me, even the parts that I’ve never seen myself. I’m tired of thinking about all the horrible things that could happen. We’ve fought so hard for so long, and at some point, we deserve the reward.
Desire and longing are strange things. They act as clouds that lift me away from my usual pessimism and into an enchanting place where only Rowland and I exist.
His hands find the small of my back and I arch into him, the cautious kiss deepening into something heady. Something dizzying.
I don’t know who I am when I’m in his embrace. I’m not the girl who has been alone for years, defending herself against the monsters and surviving despite the odds. I’m someone fragile, vulnerable.
And I hate it.
