Island of Glass (The Guardians Trilogy #3)(88)

The word dripped with derision.

“You said those things to me when you thought I was out of it, but you can’t say them to my face?”

He caught her fist in his hand before it connected. “Hit me again, and we’ll see who’s the coward.”

“Emotional midget work better for you? You’re in love with me, and you can’t say it when I’m conscious because you’re afraid. That’s pathetic. You’re pathetic.”

Temper hot and visible, he hauled her to her toes. “Watch yourself.”

“Screw that. I say what I feel, remember? You’re the one who lies about it.”

“I haven’t lied to you.”

“Let’s just test that. Are you in love with me?”

He dropped her to her feet. “I’m not getting into this any deeper.”

“Yes or no. That’s simple. If you’ve got the balls.”

“It doesn’t matter what—”

“Yes or goddamn no. Pick one.”

“Yes!” And the word bellowed like the thunder. “But it doesn’t—”

“Yes works,” she cut him off. “So good.” She opened the door for him, gestured to show him he was free to leave.

“It can’t go anywhere.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, it already has. And if you’re going to fall back on the immortal’s lament, it doesn’t fly. Yeah, I’m going to die. Could be today.” She flicked a hand toward the storm outside the window. “Could be fifty years from now. Could be next week or I could live to be a hundred and four. Five of the six of us have that to face, and it sure as hell isn’t stopping Bran and Sasha or Sawyer and Annika from grabbing what they have for as long as they can have it.”

“None of them have stood by and watched the other die.”

“But they will.”

“It’s not the same, not remotely.”

“Grief is grief, but you hold on to that if you need it. I’m not asking or expecting you to hang around should I hit a hundred and four. I just wanted the truth. However long it works, it works.”

“Marriage is—”

“Who said anything about marriage?” she demanded. “I don’t need pledges and rings and white dresses. I just need the respect of the truth. Now I’ve got it, and we’re back on even ground. That’s enough.”

She sighed, and this time laid her palm on his heart. “That’s enough, Doyle, for me. Give me the truth, and stick with me as long as it works, and that’s enough.”

He closed his hand over hers. “I swore I’d never love again.”

“That was before you tangled with me.”

“It was. There’s no other like you. Your eyes lured me, your mind fascinates me, your body . . . didn’t hurt a thing.”

She let out a half laugh. “You forgot my sparkling personality.”

“It doesn’t sparkle. I’d rather the edge than the shine.”

“Lucky for you.”

She moved into him, rose to her toes, felt his hands grip her hips. And heard someone running down the swirl of stairs.

“You need to come!” Annika clasped her hands together. “To the top. I have to get Sawyer. You need to come.”

With no questions asked, they raced up.

Bran stood beside Sasha, a hand on her shoulder as she stared through the wet glass of the terrace doors.

“A vision?” Riley asked.

Even as Bran shook his head, Sasha spoke. “Not exactly. It’s . . . Something’s out there, but I can’t see it or hear it. I just know it.”

“Nerezza?” Riley walked up to stand at Sasha’s other side.

“She’s close—too close, but that’s not it. In the sea, through the storm or beyond it. I can’t tell.”

“There’s more.” Bran turned to where the three paintings stood on the mantel.

They pulsed with light. A deep strong red through the painting of the path through Bran’s forest, a pure rich blue through the painting of the house, a clear brilliant white from the Island of Glass.

“It’s— I think it’s their hearts,” Sasha said. “The heart of the stars beating. And there’s something out there we can’t see. In the heart of the storm.”

“Wait.” Riley pressed her fingers to her temples as Sawyer and Annika hurried in. “In my notes . . . Let me think. I’ve got references. The heart of the stars, heart of the sea, heart of the storm.”

“I’ll get your notes.”

“Just—” She held up a hand to hold Doyle off. “References to the stars’ resurrection—the fall and the rise. Silent breath, blah, blah, beating hearts. They pulsed when we found them, so I put it down to that, but there’s references to the heart calling to heart, leading them home. And . . . ah . . . when the stars wake full, the storm breaks, land and sea. Ride the storm to its heart, and there the heart of the sea, the heart of the worlds waits.”

“The Island of Glass?” Sawyer moved closer to a window, peered out.

“It’s a theory. And Sasha talked about the storm, riding it. We sure as hell have the storm.”

“Ride it to where?” Sawyer wondered. “Visibility is complete crap out there.”