Fourth Debt (Indebted #5)(83)

She sucked in a breath, looking at the ceiling. “Nothing. Everything’s perfect.” Her fingers tightened around my cock. “I want you, Kite.”

Her voice echoed with love, but I didn’t let her derail me. Not this time.

“Tell me. Do you hate me? Do you secretly loathe me for what I’ve done?”

I won’t be able to live if you do.

“How can I make it up to you?” My voice turned ragged. “How can I prove I mean what I say? That I’m so f*cking sorry. That nothing else will ever—”

She hushed me, pressing a finger over my mouth. “There’s nothing else you can do. I believe you.”

Her voice said one thing, her thoughts another.

I hated when people lied. It tangled me into f*cking knots trying to figure out their true meaning. That’d been the problem from childhood. Cut would order me to do one thing, but his cold-hearted cruelty guided me to do another. Kestrel learned from a very young age never to lie to me. I needed utmost honesty to survive living in a household with so many conflicting ideals and hierarchies.

“You can’t lie to me, Nila.” My blood thickened with impending doom. What wasn’t she saying? Would it destroy me if she did? I pressed my forehead against hers. “You can’t keep things from me. I know there’s something you’re not saying and until you clear the air that emotion will overcast everything until it drives me mad.”

Her face tightened. “Your condition can be a real pain, you know that?”

I laughed wryly. “You’ve only just noticed?” The derisive humour didn’t shred the tension between us. “Spit it out. Now.”

A single tear escaped.

Fuck.

“Nila…don’t.” Ever so gently, I licked the salty drop, taking her sadness and vowing to turn it into endless happiness. She deserved so much happiness. Eternal happiness.

And I would be the one to give it to her.

My chest cracked open. “I’m so sorry, Nila.” Burying my face in her hair, I clutched her hard. “So sorry for everything—for what I am, for what I demand of you, for the things I can’t fix.”

Her arms wrapped around me. “You don’t need fixing, Jethro. You’re bombarded every day with stimuli. You’re so strong to have endured a childhood living here. You put mechanisms in place to protect yourself. Only…”

“Only?” I traced her cheek with a fingertip. “Go on…”

She tensed, hesitation and reluctance seeping from her. Sucking in a deep breath, she rushed, “I know I love you. I’ve never known anything so clear, but I can’t help wondering if you love me.”

I reared back. “What?”

She couldn’t have hurt me more if she’d tried.

“How can you even think something like that? What have I just been saying? You think I’ve been lying to you?” I rolled off her, trembling with rage. “What does that f*cking mean?”

She sat up, twisting her fingers together. “I just mean…you feel what others feel. Could you be reflecting what I feel for you? How do you know what’s real and what’s not? It makes me wonder if I forced you to love me. That any woman who cared for you after a lifetime of living with Cut and Bonnie would’ve made you fall—not fall, but mirror her affection.” Her eyes glossed with unfallen tears. “How can I trust that you know what you feel isn’t just me putting those thoughts into your head?”

I shoved off the hay bale, unable to keep still. “I can’t f*cking believe this.”

How could she be so clueless? So heartless to say I was so lost to not know my own wants and dreams. How could she even ask that after I cut her hair and almost f*cking cried at her pain? “I’m a human being, Nila. I have the same thoughts and feelings as the rest of the population.”

She hung her head, dark hair curtaining her face. “You do, but you also have so much more. Your condition, Jethro…I mean, I had one goal when you took me to Hawksridge: to make you love me so I could use you to free me.” She swallowed, her eyes tight with confession. “What if I succeeded?”

Of course, you succeeded.

But I’d fallen for her of my own free will.

I should be appalled, but really—I’d known all along. I’d felt her conspiring, pushing me to let her in. Thing was…she didn’t need to make me love her. I’d already fallen—long before she started her games. Even before she forced me to kiss her, I’d given her my heart without knowing it.

“You have no idea what you’re saying.”

“Don’t I? Ever since you told me what you were, I’ve wondered. When you died, it killed me to think I’d never know the truth. Never know if you felt the depth that I feel for you—or the pain I felt when you were taken from me.”

Dragging both hands through my hair, my side burned with pain. Her words whipped me like a thousand bullets. As an empath I was subjected to hundreds of emotional pulls and tugs every day. I was whittled down within an inch of sanity every second.

But that didn’t mean I copied the strongest thoughts. It didn’t mean I was weak and couldn’t think for myself. If anything, my condition made me stronger. Not only did I cross-examine every opinion and sentiment but I also learned how to barricade my own conclusions from being tainted by others.