Chapter 30 Maeve #3
“Mythical or not, I find my mate the same way all big cats do. Our mate has to intrigue the cat within. Curiosity killed the cat and all?”
“Trust me, if I were to kill you, it’d be from a much better method.”
He chuckles, but there’s no humour in the sound. “You called to my pantheral, as you well and truly know, and now your merry band of mates think we’re some kind of destined boy band.”
I blink, trying to process this bombshell through the fog in my brain. “Wait, what? You think we’re...” The words die in my throat as the room lurches violently to one side.
“I don’t think anything, maelstrom. I know the truth,” he finishes. “We’re mates. Soulmates, bound for life, and shackled together unwillingly.”
“Excuse me?” I manage to get out. “Did you just say that I’m your mate?”
“Unfortunately. And after the speech from Julian last night, I’m intrigued by your thoughts on the matter.”
“Disgust. Revulsion.” I gag, more from the rising nausea than him, but I’m happy to let him think otherwise. “Horror.”
Torin’s lip curls.
“Revulsion?” he repeats, then laughs mockingly. “You can’t lie to me, Maeve. You’re not disgusted. You’re threatened.”
“Threatened by you? Please.”
“Yes. Because you can’t control me.” His eyes flash amber. “You can pull bears and horses and even demons into orbit. You can make them kneel. But I won’t, and you have no idea what to do with that.”
I tighten my grip on the armrest to compensate. Is he truly implying that Lucifer… that Draven…
“I don’t want you kneeling,” I snap. “I want you gone from my life. Dead, in another country, however it’s possible. I don’t care.”
“Of course, you don’t,” he shoots back sarcastically. “You want worship, Maeve. Someone to literally lick the floor clean so you can see your ugly fucking face in it. You want men who’ll bleed for you while you stand there looking untouchable.”
Heat floods my body again, sudden and vicious. He steps closer.
“But I’m not that man, maelstrom. I’m not gentle. I’m not one of your tame little protectors. And that terrifies you.”
My throat thickens.
“You don’t know a single thing about what terrifies me.”
“I know you hide behind being ‘damaged’ so no one can call you out,” he says coldly. “You think if you act broken enough, no one will expect you to choose.”
The air digs into my throat with each shallow breath. Sweat prickles along my hairline, and my heartbeat drums against my ribs like it’s trying to escape.
“That’s not—”
“You don’t want to be alone,” he cuts in. “You want control. There’s a difference.”
Something cracks inside me.
“You don’t know anything,” I whisper, but the words lack conviction, even to my own ears. My traitorous body leans towards him before I can stop myself, then jerks back like I’ve been burned.
I’m tired of everyone deciding what I am and how I should behave. I’m fucking tired of him.
“You don’t get it, Torin,” I say quietly, hating how my voice breaks. “I’d rather be broken alone than risk letting someone like you shatter what’s left.”
But even as I say it, I wonder if it’s true.
Torin’s face is ashen, his eyes wide, and I can see the exhaustion. I’m not stupid and can tell he’s had a rough night.
It’s a shame I’m a bitch and couldn’t give a fuck.
In fact, I hope he suffers more.
“Maeve, something’s wrong with you,” he says, his voice clipped. His eyes narrow as he stares at me, nostrils flaring slightly. “What’s happening?”
“Nothing.” I cross my arms, but the movement makes me sway again. “I’m just tired of your bullshit. So, please, see yourself out, and leave me the fuck alone.”
His jaw tightens, lips pressing into a thin white line. His gaze slides from my face to my trembling hands, down to my unsteady knees, then back up to the sweat beading at my temples, cataloging each betrayal of my body like evidence at a crime scene.
“Is that so?” he finally manages, his voice rough like he’s holding back.
“That is so,” I croak out. I clear my throat, no matter how much it hurts.
No matter how hard it is to breathe.
“You’d rather what, lie to me, than let me get you some fucking ibuprofen? Get a grip, maelstrom. I’m not going to poison you.”
My vision spins. My chromius hisses, the snarling sound echoing through my mind. I feel like I’m on an upside down rollercoaster ride. Up and down, fast and spinning.
Shit.
“Slow your breathing, or you’re going to—”
I grip my throat, a wheeze escaping my throat. “I’m.”
“You’re?” He crouches down in front of me. “Maeve, how many fingers am I holding up?”
My eyes roll around in my head, unable to focus. “How many?”
I don’t think the words sound right. My words. They’re weird. Slurred.
“Maeve.” There’s something in his voice I’ve never heard before. Not anger.
Not mockery. Something that sounds alarmingly like concern.
My body feels heavy, like I’m sinking into quicksand.
Shit.
“Help,” I croak out.
The word tastes like surrender, bitter and heavy on my tongue. I hate myself for letting it escape. For needing him, of all people.
“Fuck,” Torin hisses, and suddenly, his hands are on my armrests, steadying me. “When did this start?”
I blink at him, trying to rewind my own body like it’s a faulty video.
“When did what start?” I slur.
Torin’s face drains of colour. “No—no, don’t do that.”
“What did you take?” His voice drops, sharp and strained. “Maeve. Answer me.”
I smile. Or at least, I try to.
His hands hover uselessly in the air, fingers flexing like it’s physically costing him not to grab me.
“Don’t you dare black out on me,” he growls, and there’s no arrogance left in it. “Maeve—stay awake.”
The room tilts.
His eyes widen.
“Maelstrom?”
Darkness swallows me whole.