Chapter 35 #2
“It’s really not my problem,” David said. Did his voice sound raspier?
Anna said nothing, but an edginess had woken in David, vibrating against his skin. He needed to move, to think. He kissed Anna’s temple and whispered something about needing a drink. She nodded, her sleepy eyes drifting closed while he pulled on a loose pair of trousers and slipped from the room.
The door snicked shut behind him, and he headed toward the cookery, stopping short as he registered another presence in the room, sitting at the table.
Isobel looked up at his entrance, unsmiling, though he didn’t miss the way her gaze darted down to his bare chest before tearing away to stare at the wall.
“You’re up late,” he said, carefully making his way toward the pitcher of that lemony drink the brownies kept stocked for him.
She held up an empty elixir vial. “Just waiting for this to kick in.”
Sipping his drink, he leaned against the serving counter. “I thought you weren’t capable of sickness.”
“Pregnancy is not a sickness.”
“No? Maybe you’re just doing it wrong, then.”
Isobel glared at him. “Could you be any less pleasant?”
“We both know I definitely could.”
She laughed humorlessly. “So this is you trying?”
He set his glass down. “This is me choosing to ignore the fact that you accused me of things I didn’t do, lied to the entire realm about Galadaine and Meléan, and stole my soul.”
“I didn’t steal it,” she said. “It’s still in there, isn’t it?”
“Part of it,” he said. “The rest of it is sleeping down the hall. In his bed instead of yours.”
She scowled. “He’s just upset—”
“That you raped his soul? I wonder why.”
With a sigh, she stood. “You are so crass.”
She glanced to the side, giving him her profile, and a violent lurch in David’s chest made him suck in a breath, like a wire tether snapping tight, shredding through anything that existed in its path.
A spike of pain drove through his heart, and his veins lit on fire as the connection between him and Sean expanded like a dying star, demolishing roadblocks to feed emotions through.
He’d looked at this woman so many times, but tonight looking at her made him feel as if he was staring over a cliff, like his life was just a step away from changing forever.
Or maybe ending completely.
Oh, fuck.
No. No. No.
He knew this feeling—this heady, acidic warmth. He’d felt it dozens of times. Inside Sean.
David tried to stop it, but the very chemistry of his brain altered as his conjoined soul made a home for Sean’s magical bond to Isobel, right in the center of his heart.
Opinions shifted, and brand-new thoughts that were somehow familiar to him rained through his consciousness—thoughts of tarnished emotions and forced sentiments, thoughts of entrapment and prisons.
In the space of one second, she snapped every cell in his body in half and put them back together in a different order.
He didn’t want to acknowledge it. Could hardly believe he felt it. Couldn’t bear to name it.
But denial was impossible.
Hurt when he hurts.
Breathe when he breathes.
Love what he loves.
This poisonous love ate through David’s insides, the same way it had for Sean.
David’s hands began to shake, and he clasped them to stop it. He wanted to leave, to run. But where would he go? He couldn’t outrun something like this. It was in his very soul.
Without speaking, without even looking at her again, David strode from the room, heading straight back to his room. He slipped through the door and stilled at the sight of the woman sleeping in his bed.
Somehow, in the tumult, he’d forgotten about Anna.
He stared at her face—her pretty, pretty face—and the next, far worse realization hit with all the subtlety of an explosion, shattering something inside.
The two of them, whatever they were to each other…they wouldn’t survive this. The fragile, budding affection inside her would wither and die in the face of this.
How could he even explain it?
I thought I might be able to love you, but the truth is that I love someone else. I don’t want to, but I can’t stop it. I will never be able to look at you and say you’re the only one.
Nausea burned its way up his throat.
How much more would he have to sacrifice for this forsaken bond?
His magic. His memories. His very personality. And now Anna. She was a casualty of Isobel’s selfishness. She’d fallen in love with the wrong man.
Even in sleep, that sparkling love shone just beneath Anna’s surface, fresh and sweet and eager to grow. David moved to the end of the bed, still gazing at her face, relaxed in sleep.
When she woke, everything would be different.
Could he continue to string her along when this poison was dripping through his heart? Not without hurting her.
And suddenly, he felt…broken. Bereft. Resentful that he’d been right about their expiration date.
This wasn’t something he wanted to be right about, but hadn’t he known all along that she’d be taken from him? He’d just never dreamed it would be because of Isobel.
A great fissure spread through his ice, and a bleak sadness leaked through, dull and heavy, smelling like the ghost of honeysuckle fading from his bedsheets.
Anna flinched in sleep, almost as if she could feel it, this cracking, shattering pain he tried to shove away.
Was this how it would feel without her? Would the absence of her eat away at him like acid?
It didn’t matter.
His own pain was of no consequence. Hers, however? Hers he could modulate. He could smother and choke it until it died a quiet death.
But how did one make someone fall out of love? What ending would result in the least amount of pain for her?
His head tilted as he studied her emotions. The new love hadn’t grown roots in her. It hadn’t had time to burrow in. It stood on spindly legs with no foundation, spun from bits of glass and fluff. Fragile.
If it was fragile, he could break it.
Better to crack a thin sheet of glass than try to shatter a fist-sized diamond.
Because if he knew anything about Anna Ainslan, it was that her love would only grow. Layers upon layers of reinforced emotion would build to create something nearly indestructible. If he cut it off now, it would fade to nothing.
Resigned to indescribable pain, David slipped back into bed beside her, wincing when she curled into his side like she belonged there. He stared at the ceiling, terrified he’d uncovered the key to his own happiness, only to learn that his bound hands were unable to grasp it.