Chapter 36
KIERAN
Fuck my life.
No matter what the hell I do, I can’t get her out of my head.
I never could, not really, but now? After seeing her like that…
naked, flushed, lost in pleasure, every sound she made burned into me.
It’s seared into my brain like a brand. There’s no scrubbing it out, no pretending I didn’t watch her come apart.
I don’t even know why I walked into those damn woods. They creep me out. I’ve lived and served in Velmore for a long time, but never stepped into the Hollowborns woods.
But today… something gnawed at me. A pull I couldn’t shake, and it led me to her.
I lean back from the bike, let the spanner drop into the grass, and sit down next to Daleyza on the steps. She’s always been like this—silent company, steady presence when I needed someone to listen.
We may not share blood, but she’s my sister. No one can tell me otherwise.
She signs, You done? I give her a slight nod.
She grabs one of the cinnamon rolls made—still warm—and holds it out.
I take it with a small half-smile I don’t quite feel, the sweetness a poor distraction from the weight that’s clawing at my chest. Also, the way I wanted to be the one burying myself so deep inside temptress she would feel me for days.
Are you going to tell me what’s wrong with you? She smiles brightly. Besides the fact you haven’t had alcohol in two weeks—which, by the way, is amazing.
I huff a quiet laugh through my nose and shake my head. “Doesn’t feel amazing.”
She raises an eyebrow, waiting.
“It’s nothing,” I add quickly, grabbing the cinnamon roll she gave me and taking a big bite so I don’t have to say anything else.
Is that why you’ve been avoiding Ravena all afternoon?
I keep chewing. Not answering feels easier than lying.
Truth is, I’ve been avoiding all of them since they got back. Malrik disappeared after reinforcing the blood ward, probably killing some helpless soul. Ronan's been reading with the temptress glued to his side. Drews is still passed out in the house, having a nap. And I have been hiding out here.
Daleyza taps her fingers against my knee to get my attention again. Kieran, you know the best thing about not being able to talk? People tend to forget I’m there. And that means I see a lot more than they think I do. Like the way you look at her.
I swallow the last bite of cinnamon roll, the sweetness suddenly bitter on my tongue, and stare at the ground.
It’s sad, really—how easily she says it.
Like she’s accepted being invisible.
She thinks no one notices her, because she can’t speak, and people forget she’s there. And maybe most do. But she’s always been sharper than the rest of us. She sees more. Feels more.
I was told people picked on her for her disability growing up—cruel little kids who didn’t know better, and even crueller adults who did.
But Darian never let it slide. He stood up for her every single time.
Apparently, Drew came home with bruises nearly every day, protecting her.
He's an idiot, but he would do anything for his sister.
When their parents died, Darian was just nineteen. The twins were only fifteen. He could’ve walked away, could’ve run away from the weight of it all. But he didn’t. He stayed with them, protected them, looked after them the best he could. And not long after that, he joined the Veilguard.
That’s when I met him. And Ronan.
You like her.
She signs it like it’s the simplest truth in the world.
But it’s not. Not for me.
I nudge her shoulder lightly with mine. “You didn’t tell me you were a Seer.”
Yeah, I’m changing the subject. But it matters. More than she realises.
The Astral Sanctum would come for her if they ever found out what kind of power she’s carrying. And if she’s as strong as Temptress says… that’s not a good thing. Not in this realm.
The constant headaches she used to complain about—it all makes sense now. The way she always seemed to know more than she let on. But if Vespera finds out, or that bastard King Draeven… I don’t even want to finish that thought.
Don’t change the subject.” Her eyes are locked firmly on mine. It is what it is—I can’t change being a Seer. But you… You’re out here hiding from your feelings for Ravena.
I stand, brushing my hands down my pants, jaw tight as I look down at her.
“My feelings don’t matter,” I say flatly. “Whatever they are… she’s with Ronan. And the psychopath.”
She could be with you, too.
I let out a bitter, hollow laugh. “Yeah, right.”
The idea is ridiculous. Witches and humans, we don’t share. The Veilguard aren’t supposed to have relationships, even if we aren’t a part of it now. I don’t even know if I could share her.
“She could never be with someone like me,” I say under my breath, not wanting to fully admit it.
Daleyza stands, stepping in front of me until I can’t avoid her anymore. She waits for me to focus on her.
You’re too hard on yourself. Just talk to her.
Her hands fall to her sides, and she glances toward the house. My gaze follows, and there she is—Temptress—standing in the doorway like she felt the shift in me a mile away. There’s worry on her face, not the kind that demands answers but the kind that aches for the truth.
My heart is beating hard in my chest, loud enough that I swear I can feel it echo in my ears.
Images flash behind my eyes—her body bare in the sunlight, the way her smile curves when she’s truly happy.
And now, as she steps slowly down the stairs, I notice something different.
Her eyes. They don’t carry the same shadow they used to.
That bone-deep loneliness I used to catch when she thought no one was watching… It’s not there tonight.
Even when I was drunk, I noticed it. I noticed her.
Daleyza winks at me as she turns, subtle as ever. On her way to the house, she quickly squeezes Ravena’s hand. That silent encouragement on the way only she can give. And then she disappears, leaving the two of us standing in the quiet.
“How much did you hear?” I ask, my voice comes out rougher than I meant it to be. But she’s close. Too close. Close enough that I can see the purple flecks in her silver eyes.
She shrugs her shoulders, casual—but her gaze never leaves mine. “Not much,” she says quietly. “Just that you think you don’t deserve me.”
Because I don’t. I never will
I look away. “I don’t.”
She moves in my line of vision, her brows pulled together, something soft settling in her expression. “You don’t get to decide that for me, Kieran.”
I finally let myself look at her properly.
She’s wearing a soft, pale pink sweater—too innocent, too sweet for someone like her—but it hangs off her shoulder, slipping low enough to reveal the faded imprint of an old vampire bite.
Just below it, there’s another fresh one.
Malriks, no doubt. It pisses me off more than anything, knowing that she's his.
Her collarbones catch the light that’s starting to set, and now that I know what she looks like under that sweater, it's goddamn torture. I shouldn’t be thinking about it, but I can’t stop.
Her hair is tied up, messy and effortless, leaving her neck exposed—pale, smooth skin just begging to be marked. Mine.
I grit my teeth because the truth is, I'd break her.
In every fucking way.
“You have no idea who I am.”
Sometimes I don’t even know.
“I want to know you,” she says simply. “But what I do know is, you care about your family. You carry the weight of being the oldest, like it’s your penance.
You fix your motorbike even when there’s nothing wrong with it, just to keep your hands busy.
You hate using your phone, probably because you don’t actually know how to work it. ”
A small laugh escapes her, and it cuts through the tension like sunlight through storm clouds.
“And deep down,” she goes on, softer now. “You’re just a big, grumpy teddy bear to the people you love. You pretend you’re made of stone, but I know the scar on your face still aches.”
I stare at her wide-eyed. Fuck.
She smirks, proud of herself. “I know more than you think. And I also know… You used to sleep around, because you convinced yourself you didn’t deserve to be loved.”
She’s too close. Too right. It pries me open in ways I’ve fought my whole life to avoid.
“No. That’s where you’re wrong.”
She waits, watching me.
“I don’t know how to love.”
It’s not that I don’t want to, I just never learned how. I just know pain.
“You think I do? No one really knows how to love. Not perfectly. Everyone’s version of it is different. But if they’re your person—the one who you’d go to war for, the one you don’t want anyone else touching, the one you’d burn entire realms to protect… then yeah. That’s love to me.”
I let out a sharp breath and pinch the bridge of my nose. “You love more than one man,” I grit out, needing to say it, needing her to hear it.
She doesn’t blink. “And?”
I shake my head. “All I’ve ever known how to do is fuck, Ravena.” My voice drops, colder now, harsher—because that’s easier than admitting to anything else. “I use women. Always have. They’re just a hole. A way to get off. That’s it.”
The words taste like acid as they leave me, but I want her to hear the worst of me. I want her to see the ugliness and run.
She presses her lips into a thin line, thinking. Calculating. “Then why haven’t you slept with another woman since meeting me?”
I wish I knew.
I dig my fingernails into my palms, the answer stuck in my throat.
I tried. I really fucking tried. A few times, I went out hoping to lose myself in someone else, anyone else.
But the second I got close, her face was all I saw.
That voice. That scent—cherries and vanilla that always invades my senses.
My silence stretches too long, so I throw out the only deflection I have left. “Who says I haven’t?”
Her eyes narrow, amused. “Ronan.”
“Why am I not surprised?” I mutter, dragging a hand down my face. “That guy can’t keep his mouth shut.”