Chapter 19 Kane #2
“This is my choice,” she states, gaze hard. “You all said you’d give me anything. You were there and you never denied it.” She holds the silence, waits for me to say otherwise, but I won’t. “This is what I want. I choose all of you.”
She’s so much braver than I am. But then she catches herself, as if remembering who she’s speaking to.
Her gaze softens, returning to a warmer, gentler hue as she clears her throat. “As friends. I want us all to be friends.”
I stare at her, my mind still trying to catch up and accept her words.
She chose me. She’s said it again. But with the caveat of friendship, a delicate game she’s trying to play…
The corner of my mouth twitches because denial looks so good on her.
“Yes, I remember your offer of friendship.”
She gives a half-shrug, trying to hide the pounding of her heart that my darkness can feel. “That’s all I’m asking. I mean, you’re the one who said—”
“It isn’t enough.” I take the words straight from her lips, leaving her mouth open, breath caught, stunned. “And it isn’t.”
I lean closer, refusing to be a coward—not with her. For her, I have to be better, more. If she’s willing to risk her light on my forsaken soul, I can’t waste it.
She frowns, scowls, eyes flaring brightly. “You’ve spent all this time pushing me away, saying you don’t deserve anything, but you keep saying friendship isn’t enough?”
“Because we said no more lies, and I am telling the truth.”
Her eyes narrow into slits of fire. “You are the most infuriating, confusing, contradictory being I have ever met!” A short, humourless laugh escapes as she shakes her head. “Let me speak plainly. I want us, the four of us, to be friends. But you, you want more, yes?”
I pull my lips in tight, fighting the smile threatening my mouth. But it’s difficult when she blazes like this, fire in her eyes, tongue sharp, fearless.
“Yes,” I say.
“Urgh, what does that even mean, Kane?!” My name on her tongue cracks the restraint, the smile breaking loose as she barrels on.
“All I want, right now, is for you to be clear—crystal clear, with all those words you’ve had hundreds of years to learn in all sorts of languages. Be nice and clear, for me. Got it?”
I could say it in another language, watch her fury climb higher. But not today. Today I’m reckless enough to take what she’s offered—permission to try.
“That’s what you want from me?” I step closer until her knees press into my stomach. I linger there, easing into her light, indulging in her heat, my hands clenched on the table to stop reaching for her.
“You want me to be clear?” I repeat, her eyes wide open as they peer up at me, the fire in them faltering to shock.
Have we ever been this close? Even when we shared a bed, even in Ezekial’s office, I don’t remember seeing the tiny fragments of red in her eyes or the fawn freckles across her cheeks.
“Jasmine,” I murmur, voice still twisted with the dark and barely above a whisper. “You’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted this badly. More than revenge. And that’s what terrifies me.”
Her brows shoot up.
I’ve never been good with emotions, never been good at naming them, owning them. But with her, they rise to the surface, relentless, demanding to be felt, to be spoken.
“The power you have over me, how weak you make me feel, just the thought of touching you…” My hands curl into fists.
“Being this close to you now…” My eyes lock with hers, the world blurring at the edges leaving only us.
“The only reason I’m holding back, why I’m being such a coward, is because I’m terrified of what would happen if I give in. ”
Her mouth drops open, then closes again, while my fists tremble on the table.
“Why?” she whispers.
I’ll be clear. Just like she asked.
“I’m impatient.”
Touch her. Bind her. Take her.
“Possessive.”
Show her. Claim her.
“Controlling.”
Now. Take her. Now.
“I won’t settle for friendship.”
I shut my eyes, fighting the voice, the relentless darkness urging me to obey. She must feel it, because more of her warmth curls around me, steadying the chaos, just enough for me to open them again—
Her hand is rising, so close to my face, one touch, and my thinning restraint will shatter—my fingers close around her wrist.
Her breath stutters out, eyes widening before a film of grey washes over them.
The voice stops. Everything softens as though we’re suspended underwater, but I can breathe.
I can always breathe with her.
“Was that clear enough?” My voice rumbles, doubled by darkness as I guide her hand back down to her lap.
She never looks away, and the way she’s looking at me... My thumb drifts over her wrist, memorising the softness, the warmth, the flutter of her pulse.
Then, she shakes her head.
“No?” The sound edges into a scoff. Even now, in a soft haze, she’s fighting me, riling me.
I release her hand, but don’t retreat. I’m caught in her light, starving for more.
My fingers lift. “You need me to be clearer, empath?” My first touch is tentative, the barest graze along her jaw. “You want more of my words?” Fingertips trace the curve of her cheek. “Or something else?” I murmur.
When her eyes flutter shut, I let myself believe. Believe I’m allowed this. Allowed to touch something so ethereal, always afraid my darkness will smear her.
My hand moves with aching slowness, brushing the edge of her face, learning every line, every angle, savouring this—her.
“I… I think we need to stop.” Her breathless words still my fingers at her cheekbone, our eyes meeting mine again.
Her irises glow like soft embers, the remnants of a fire, or the beginning of one. Half-lidden, and so beautiful I can’t stop staring.
She’s right. We should stop. Because if she tries to touch me again, I’ll let her, and I won’t let her stop.
But I’m reluctant to let go. Everything is so warm and quiet when I touch her, like that first time in her room at The Inferno. I’d never felt calm like it. She alone steadies the chaos inside me.
“I never thought you’d let me touch you like this.” My fingers drift lower, and when I brush the corner of her mouth, those embers flare. “Let me savour it.”
I run my thumb across her lower lip, a stuttered breath falls out, and her eyes turn pleading.
Ezekial is right, she plays this part so well. Staring up at me with those tempting eyes and soft mouth and—I shake myself, shut my eyes, block out the enchantress before me.
And when she pulls away, my hand immediately falls, and the noise rushes back in.
“Well.” She clears her throat, and my gaze darts to her. “Thank you for being… clear with me. It’s… good to know where we stand.” She wets her lip, tongue darting over the soft pink skin I just touched.
Did she do that on purpose? To tempt me? Tease me? Make me snap?
Yes. Show her. Take her.
She shifts, arms tensing as if to push herself up, to escape.
But I can’t let her. Not yet.
“And where do we stand, immaru?” I murmur.
Her mouth drops open, and isn’t that a pretty sight.
I can’t stop the corner of my lips from lifting, not when my darkness is right there, staring at the only thing it wants so badly.
“I… well…” She glances away, takes a breath, then looks back warily. “Can… can you back up?”
I don’t want to. I want to stay this close until she loses her mind, until she asks me to ease her, until those wide eyes beg me to keep touching her.
But she is in control, not me. Reluctantly, I take a step back.
“Where do we stand?” I repeat, regaining more control, pushing the darkness and the impromptu nickname away.
She didn’t hear it. Couldn’t have. Especially not in this state, this flustered, breathless, needy, desperate—
Her darkness slams into my chest. It forces me to step back, just enough to let her break free. She darts past.
“I thought I was the coward.”
She freezes, deciding whether to turn or keep walking.
Then she storms on, with renewed vigour, and a middle finger raised high.