Chapter 19 Kane
Drinking is easier than eating, though still unnecessary.
Yet I ensure to take a sip every time her eyes land on me. And each time, she rewards me with a soft look, a small smile, a brimming laugh.
How long did it normally take to finish this type of beverage? What was the average time? Because if she’s willing to look at me like that every time I force myself to swallow this saccharine liquid, then I will drag it out indefinitely.
When I’m not waiting for Jasmine to grace me with the smallest glimpse of her, I’m messaging Sai and Ezekial about Julien.
My brother has just swapped out with Sai, and his report is… concerning.
Julien’s beast is inconsolable.
Starving, yet unwilling to feed. Desperate for her, but denying himself.
This has happened before, that isn’t a lie, but the circumstance was never this. We were never trying to console his beast.
I tried to speak with it, then Julien, but he’s too far gone. They are one, and all they see is her.
I glance over the top of my phone, attempting to be covert as I watch Jasmine feed two fox-like creatures.
The wide skylight above floods the atrium with the morning sun, drenching her in gilded rays.
She smiles down at the creatures, tentatively reaching out her hand and coaxing them with soft words they cannot understand.
When one finally fares to take the food pinched between her fingers and scuttles back, her smile only widens.
I’m staring. I’m more than aware. But I am powerless to look away.
Yes, she is beautiful, any being with eyes could see that, but it’s more than that.
She brings light everywhere she goes. She is warmth, kindness, care. She is everything I am not. And the light is drawn to her, follows her, clings to her.
I am the dark moth who cannot resist, desperate to be scorched by her. For when she casts her light upon me, even for the briefest moment, it softens the heavy darkness I’ve always despised.
She brushes her hands over her skirt before standing and walking towards me.
I don’t move, still leaning against the wall with a cold coffee in one hand and my phone in the other.
“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t like it,” she says, smiling.
I stare at her. “I do like it.” Because you gave it to me.
She huffs softly, still smiling. “Kane, you’ve been holding it for an hour. It’ll be freezing.”
“I’m savouring it.”
What am I even saying?
But she doesn’t seem to mind my nonsense. That soft, closed-lip smile spreads into a grin, and as if the universe isn’t already trying to torment me, a stray ray of sunlight breaks through the skylight to bathe her face in more golden light.
Immaru.
“What was that?” she asks, with that smile never leaving her lips, but when she sees my reaction, which is to immediately still and reinforce all mental barriers—it drops away. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to… I didn’t realise that was an inside thought.”
She edges onto the planting table beside me, and I continue to stare blankly ahead.
My control of the dark has been impeccable lately, stronger than it has ever been, so how did that happen?
Have I exerted myself with Julien too much? Or is it simply her?
“Is it strange to miss something you’ve never had?” Her vague question disrupts those thoughts as I follow her line of sight. She’s staring ahead, studying the two orange foxes in their enclosure now chasing each other. “Is there even a word for that?”
“Saudade.”
Her eyes latch onto my profile. “What language is that?” Her voice is soft.
“Portuguese.”
“How many languages do you know?”
“A few.” If she asks me to be more specific, I’m not sure I could recount them all. Although Julien knows more. “What has made you feel saudade?”
When she doesn’t respond, I turn to see she’s already looking at me. But she blinks away whatever was holding her captive.
“I’ve missed being with animals, even though I’ve never really been around them.”
“You’re good with them.”
She nods. “Because I’m an empath.”
“Because you’re kind,” I say. “Animals are pure beings, driven by instincts, not tainted by the world. They can sense things in beings that others cannot.”
“You think I’m kind?” she asks, not because she doubts the words, but because she can’t believe I’ve said them.
“To a fault.”
She frowns. “I didn’t realise kindness could be a bad thing.”
“If someone had treated me the way I treated you, I wouldn’t have responded with the same level of restraint and kindness.”
Her brows furrow, then she studies me for a long moment. “Tell me, what would you have done, in my position?”
“Reject me.” The words fall like stones, and the moment they’re out, an intense pounding erupts from my chest. I bite my tongue to distract myself from it.
Her face shifts into shock, then hurt which she quickly masks. But not quick enough.
“You can’t reject bonds,” she murmurs. “I already looked that up.”
The pounding in my chest intensifies.
She looked it up. She’d considered rejecting us.
No. Me.
Something inside me is thrashing, clawing, desperately trying to escape.
“Rejection can take many forms, like distance.” My gaze meets hers and I instantly regret it. Her eyes are too wide, too open. Too much. “I can still leave.”
It’s all I’ve thought about since she offered her friendship.
I don’t deserve it, but I still want more. I told her so, and I hate myself for it. I don’t deserve more. I don’t deserve her. And watching the oldest member of our unit fight to restrain himself while I stand here, indulging in what should never be mine, only makes me feel more wretched.
Julien and Sai betrayed her trust, but they are still worthy men. Far worthier than I could ever be.
She bites her lip, her brows pulling together, then abruptly turns from me.
“Well, if that’s what you want, I’m not going to force you to stay.” Her voice is even, but too sharp. “But instead of hiding behind vague words, why don’t you do us both a favour and just speak plainly?”
I frown, noting the tension in her jaw, the way her fingers grip the edge of the table.
When I don’t speak, not knowing what she wants me to say, she inhales shakily as though pulling the words from somewhere deep.
“You’ve never wanted this, whatever this is, whatever it could be.
” Her voice is breathless, words tumbling out in a rush.
“You hate that there’s this—this thing inside of you pulling you to me.
I’m not going to force you to stay, Kane, and I’m certainly not going to beg.
So do us both a favour and just say it.”
“Say what—”
“You don’t want me!” she explodes, eyes burning like untamed fires. Then she squeezes them shut, lowering her voice. “Which is… fine, but just… just fucking say it so you can stop telling me you want more, then in the same breath ask me to let you leave.”
That’s what she thinks? That I don’t want her?
Her.
Our missing piece, our strength, more than our equal in every way. I’ll never compare to her. I’ll always remain inferior peering up at the light she may bestow.
She thinks I don’t want her?
She shakes herself, frowning when I stay silent. Then her gaze locks on mine, and it’s like being seared by the sun. “I never thought someone so dangerous could be such a coward.”
That final word becomes a dagger that slices my chest, and with the pain, the room tilts into grey.
My fraying restraint shatters.
My hands press to the table on either side of her, caging her in as I lean closer—finally surrendering to her warmth, to the pull I’ve fought against for so long.
I feel like Icarus, daring the sun to burn me alive for being so bold.
“I am a coward,” I say hoarsely, my darkness echoing the words. “You were right when you said it the first time, in Ezekial’s office, and you’re right now.” She swallows, eyes darting over my face. “Because you terrify me.”
“Why?” she whispers.
I glance to the side, at the shadows, away from her warmth. It’s safer there, in the cold abyss I’ve always known.
“I am hundreds of years old. I have committed countless atrocities. When people recount the myth of the Dark Gods’ arrival to this realm, I am the villain in that tale; the monster in their nightmares.
I will never be redeemed. I bring destruction everywhere I step because all I’ve ever sought is revenge. ” The words taste bitter, but absolute.
They define me, they always have. Always will.
I look back into her blinding light, to the warmth I don’t deserve yet can’t resist.
“Until you.” I pause, her lips part. “I don’t know how to accept something I don’t deserve.”
For a moment, she says nothing, the silence stretching. But she never looks away.
“You don’t know how to accept me? I don’t know how to trust you, or them.
Hell, even myself.” She throws her hands up.
“Everything I thought I knew is gone. The people I should’ve trusted most lied to me, used me.
I doubt everything.” Her voice is edged with frustration, but beneath it, there’s something else.
Not just anger, but fear. The same fear I feel.
She exhales sharply, fingers tightening around each other in her lap.
“I know it’s easier to pull away. I tried, I wanted to, wished I could.” Her gaze lifts, meeting mine, fire burning into shadow. “But not now. Not anymore,” she says, fierce, determined. “And neither will the others. You’re the only one fighting this.”
I shake my head, not in denial but in warning. “Because I’m the only one who doesn’t deserve it. I don’t deserve—”
You.
The word lingers unspoken, yet it echoes louder than anything I’ve admitted. Now, I expect her to shrink back, to realise she’s wasted her light on something broken beyond repair.
“Kane.” I can’t help but listen when she makes my name sound like that. Like a prayer and a song, a new language, one I didn’t yet know but was desperate to learn.