66. Harlow #2
“Your brother has granted a contingent of forty men to help supplement our forces at the fort,” Henry says. “It will be an adjustment for everyone there, not without its share of conflict, but it will make a big difference.”
He’s so calm. The more casual and conversational he is, the more my anger grows. That feeling is only exacerbated by the fact that I know he can feel how annoyed I am about it.
“Can you just say what you need to say?” I snap, turning to face him .
Henry grabs my hand and tugs me into the alleyway beside us so we’re away from the stream of people rushing toward the Blood Well.
He searches my face. “Could you trust me again?”
“Would you use your magic on me?”
“Only with your permission.” He takes my hands.
I scowl at him. “Why would I ever give you permission to?—”
I realize why the second his gaze heats. He means he would use it to control me in bed if I wanted him to. Warmth pools in my stomach and my cheeks burn at the thought.
The corner of Henry’s mouth twitches. “I only ever used it on you twice. You’re quite hard to hook.”
I cock my head. “So you wanted to use it more than that?”
He sighs in exasperation. “No. I wanted to see if I could get in if I had to.”
I want to be angry, but I would have gone to any lengths in order to get vengeance for Aidia. It’s hard to be mad at him when I would do the same thing.
“I did it when you were having your headache because I thought maybe I could find a way to use it to make the pain stop. I couldn’t, but I could help soothe you to sleep so you didn’t have to feel so acutely.
And I used it when you were in the garden grieving because I realized what a mistake I’d made.
You were so distraught, and I just wanted to ease your pain. ”
“That doesn’t make it okay,” I snap.
He holds up his hands to brace against my anger. “I know that.”
“You didn’t have my permission.”
He nods. “I know.”
“Consent matters.”
“I know.”
It’s so uncomfortable to even confront how much he’s hurt me and even more so to do it aloud.
There’s a lump in my throat so large I can hardly breathe around it.
“I’m so angry at you for making me care.
I was supposed to get Aidia back and be done caring.
But you ruined it and now I’m just a stupid woman who cares about a man who manipulated her and I’m so furious with you. ”
“Good. Be mad at me.”
His encouragement takes the air out of me, and I falter .
“You want me to be mad?”
“Yes, I want your anger. Be as mad at me as you need to, just not from a forest away. Stay with me. Make me suffer for it. I’d rather be tortured by your presence than agonized by your absence.”
I’m speechless. I am so used to forcing my feelings into an acceptable shape—so used to managing my emotions so they don’t inconvenience or endanger someone else. No one has ever given me the space and time to feel what I feel.
He takes a tentative step closer, his aura swirling, dark burnt orange and plum.
“Look, Harlow. I don’t want to convince you.
I want you to want to come with me. I want to know that you’re with me, not because of a deal you made with your parents, or a promise you made before the Divine, but because you want to be with me.
I’d be no better than everyone else who pretended to love you if I didn’t let you decide for yourself.
” He tilts my chin up. “I want to look into these beautiful violet eyes every day and know that this woman who brought color back to my world chose to be my wife.”
I stare at him in shock. “You can see me.”
His smile softens the sharp lines of his face. “I can see you.”
“For how long?” I rasp.
“Since the study.”
I laugh in shock. “If I knew property damage got you going, I would have skipped the usual seduction and gone right to work destroying your room.”
Henry grins and cups my face. “It was seeing how you’ve survived—seeing your grief and rage.
I saw something familiar in you, and I finally felt like I understood you.
And then you went inside, and you were so angry, and it just clicked.
I felt a buzz in my head, and when I blinked my eyes open… There you were.”
I can see it so clearly in my mind. He looked at me in that moment, and when I asked why, he just said, “I see you.”
He leans his forehead against mine. “I am so wretchedly in love with you. Put me out of my misery. I don’t want to pretend anymore. I want you.”
It’s satisfying that he sounds bereft, that I feel his agony in my chest. All at once, I know I’ve only been pretending to consider it because I don’t want to stay here any more than I want to be without him .
“Under one condition.”
Henry pulls back, a hopeful smile on his face. The earnest relief in his eyes is a gut punch, but I refuse to cry right now.
“Name it,” he says.
I back away from him slowly. “You have to catch me first.”
I tear off into the crowd, knowing that for all my years of running, I’ll be happy to finally be caught.