Chapter 12
Twelve
Kyrith
“How on earth does he keep track of all this?” I ask under my breath, standing in the middle of Leo’s paper-strewn room. “It’s a mess.”
Piles of work cover the desk. Books have been discarded across the floor, and there are even a few crumpled up balls of paper on his bed.
I thought, when I saw him at dinner, eating and looking less drawn than before, that perhaps his obsession had ended with the breaking of his own ‘curse’.
Benny’s suggestion yesterday, about nullifying the remaining ó Rinn ensorcellments, seemed as good an idea as any to occupy my newfound time.
I came in here searching for the runeforms. I hoped he’d have taken a break from them now that he was safe.
Apparently not.
Leo hasn’t become any less obsessed, which makes my gut twist.
He went to Mathias for himself. Would he do so again if the lich promised to save any or all of his remaining family?
A door opens to my left, and the bright light from the bathroom overpowers the warm glow of the desk lamp. I whirl to face him, only to realise my mistake.
The last few months have taken their toll on Leo.
The weight he’s lost throws the muscles of his upper body into steam-slicked high definition.
I don’t even realise I’m searching for the ensorcellment runeform that used to dominate his chest until my gaze lands on the striped towel slung across his hips.
I force my traitorous eyes away.
Absolutely not.
I may still be attracted to him, but under no circumstances am I going to act on that or let him know about it.
Distraction. I need a distraction.
“The books!” I protest, reaching for my grimoire as my eyes land on the unprotected pages just lying there.
Leo closes the bathroom door behind him, shutting the steam on the other side, away from the delicate pages. Honestly, one shower probably won’t harm them, but I blurted the first thing I could think of. Some of these tomes are old, and mould and mildew could do serious damage.
The buckles on the holster at my waist are tricky, and before I can finish, his warm fingers are on mine, stopping me.
“I already protected them before I took them out of the McKinley collection,” Leo promises, releasing me and taking a respectful step back. “Kyrie, I—”
“I’m here for the runeforms,” I interrupt. “If you give me some, I’ll work on them while you tackle the others. I assume you’re prioritising those with active ensorcellments?”
I told Dakari I would face him alone, but I regret the decision already. The ice in his irises cracks in time with the barely healed fissures in my heart, and I can’t help tracing the vivid purple bruise across his cheekbone with my eyes.
The soft light cast by the lamp hides the worst of it, but it has the unintended consequence of making this moment feel more intimate than it has any right to be.
So, I square my shoulders and relax into the professional, disinterested stare I use on my least agreeable patrons. He’s an heir, a future parriarch. Working together is a necessity. That’s all that there is to it.
“I don’t have all day.”
“Active runeforms, and youngest first,” he finally agrees, crossing the room to lift a pile from his desk. “The first and third layers are almost identical in all cases. It’s just the mutated second layer that’s the issue. Look, Kyrie, I—”
“Good. I’ll take half.” I reach out, but he doesn’t hand them to me. “I promised to help.”
“You don’t need to. I took advantage of you before, and—”
“Give me half.” The steel in my words flashes forth before I can stop it, slicing through the apathetic wall I’ve raised around my heart. “Hurry up. You’re dripping on your work.”
And I do not want to watch those little droplets weep from his wet curls and down the lines of his back.
I hate that he’s beautiful. It’s beyond frustrating that the spark of attraction between us still exists after everything he’s done. He should, by rights, be as hideous on the outside as he must be on the inside.
“We need to talk about this. I want to apologise. Properly.”
I stride over and snatch the papers from him, splitting them roughly in two and dropping half back onto the desk.
“Kyrie.”
I whirl, two steps from the door that leads to the hall and my freedom. “Don’t call me that! I don’t need to talk to you. I don’t want anything to do with you.”
“Look, I know you fecking hate me right now, but if you’ll just give me a chance—”
“Hate you?”
How can he be so smart, and so incredibly dumb at the same time? My eyes squeeze shut, heat searing the inside of my throat as I wrestle with the knotted ball of emotion that’s been burning inside me since I woke up and heard his voice.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
“How could I ever hate you?” I demand softly, vision blurring as I force myself to meet his stare.
“You were my safety. My comfort. I came and read beside you for months because you were the one person in the Arcanaeum who seemed just as lonely as I was. I trusted you. Despite everyone telling me not to. Despite knowing your ensorcellment might one day bring ruin to the Arcanaeum.”
The most humiliating part of this ordeal is that Dakari predicted exactly what would happen when I first offered him Sanctuary, and I brushed him off. I foolishly believed I knew Leo better. My delusional little mind honestly thought that we shared a secret bond.
In the end, that was all just a girlish fantasy.
Just like with Edmund.
I’ve managed to keep my words even, but it’s getting harder to pull air into my lungs. “Don’t you dare tell me I hate you, Galileo ó Rinn. I loved you in silence for months.”
His lips part, and he reaches for me, but I shift away.
“And in return, you broke my heart”—My hand lands on the cold, steadying brass of the door handle as I take another step back—“in a hundred tiny ways. I drove myself into the ground trying to save you while you went behind my back. You crushed your brother when your secret came out. You betrayed the Arcanaeum without so much as a second thought. It would have been better if your ensorcellment had killed me, because I’m more furious with you than I have ever been, and in spite of all this…
I cannot hate you.” Those four words are mournful in their quietness, painful in their truth.
“Magic knows I’ve tried. I can’t even regret a single moment we spent together. ”
His eyes melt until they’re twin oceans of grief.
“I’ll fix it.” Then, at my slow headshake, he pushes, “Let me try. Kyrith, please.”
He sinks to his knees in the paper-strewn room, the glacial force of his gaze returning with a vengeance. But as much as I don’t hate him, I don’t know if I can forgive him either.
How can I ever trust him again after what he did?
“An apology isn’t enough,” I tell him. His shoulders drop, hands fisting against the carpet. “I may not hate you, I may even understand your reasons, but you still did all of it knowing how it would hurt me. I don’t owe you a second chance.”
“Please,” he whispers. “You’re right. I did all of those things. I’m the reason you lost the Arcanaeum, the reason you had to go through everything you did, and I have absolutely no right to ask this of you, but I’m begging you, let me try.”
I turn to face the door, still shaking my head. “How can you possibly fix this?”
I should’ve known better than to fall for the trap, because this is Leo unfettered by his ensorcellment.
His piercing intelligence, which I once so admired, is no longer hampered by fear.
Of course he would start planning this the moment he was free.
All of that intensity and determination had to go somewhere, after all.
He may be kneeling, but he’s more dangerous than ever.
“To start with, I’ll take care of myself,” he begins, and there’s enough hope in his voice that I can’t help turning back.
“I made stupid decisions because I was desperate and running on empty. I’m sleeping properly, eating regular meals, meditating, working out.
I’m getting myself into a mentally healthy place so I’m strong enough to be a better person.
For you. And I’ll fix things with Lambert, with everybody.
I did wrong by all of them. Banjaxed friendships I should never have taken for granted.
And…” He swallows, sets his jaw with determination, and reaches into a pile of papers on his left, drawing free three familiar pages. “And I want to offer you this.”
The contract.
Oh stars, no. I am not accepting that. Where did he even get another copy?
Hackles higher than they’ve ever been, I glower at him. “You can’t seriously have the audacity to think—”
“You wrote the contract because you wanted to experience everything you were denied before, and there are things on this list that none of the others will give you.” My jaw clenches at being talked over, but he powers on.
“Impact play, wax, nipple clamps, cockwarming. I’m the only one who ticked those boxes, right? ”
“Let me guess, you’re willing to sacrifice yourself so I can experience everything? How gracious of you.” My sarcasm isn’t even subtle. “I wouldn’t sleep with you if you were the last man alive.”
I can’t believe he has the gall. The sheer fucking nerve—
“I won’t come.”
His response, so out of the blue, stuns me.
“Why would that matter?”
“You can use me like I used you. Give me blue balls every night until you’re satisfied. Stars, it’s not my kink, but you can lock me up like Jasper if you need to.”
Orgasm denial might feel like torture, but it isn’t. Not really. He’ll still get the pleasure of touching me, of controlling me. There’s enjoyment to be found in dominance itself; I know because I experience it every time I’m with Jasper and Lambert. What he’s suggesting is not a punishment.