Lifeblood (Everlife #2)(79)

He disregards my questions, rasping, “Javier doesn’t want to speak with a Troikan. You need to go, and you need to trust me as you promised.”

I admit it. This card is harder to discount. “I’m staying here. I’m speaking with him.”

A flash of fury in eyes still capable of making my blood sing. “How do you think Troika found us, Ten? Because we’re bad at hiding? I assure you we’re not. Or because someone informed your realm?”

“The latter, but—”

“I’m supposed to put up a fight before I let you have him.”

“Why? Why would Myriad willingly give him up?”

“I don’t know the plan. I only know you risk your life every time you’re around him.”

“Or you want to keep him, so you’re tricking me into leaving,” I snap, and Killian scowls at me. “Javier has a blood relation who asked us to speak with him, so I’m going to speak with him.”

“The relative isn’t the final authority,” he snaps back.

I breathe in...out...calming. This is Killian I’m talking to. My love. He’s not lying to me. He believes what he says.

“You’re right,” I tell him. “The relative doesn’t get to pick for Javier. So Javier can tell me to go—if that’s what he wants. He can even tell me to stay away forever. But he will hear me out first. I’m certain he’ll want an update on Dior.”

“He’s slept with two different girls in two consecutive days.” His tone is dry. “I think it’s safe to say Javier is over Dior.”

I purse my lips. How easily Killian speaks of a relationship’s death.

Forget Javier. For the moment, anyway. I made a promise to Kayla. “Do you know where Victor Prince is being kept?”

Killian smiles a cold smile. “Yes...because I abducted him.”

What? “Is he alive?” My grip tightens on the swords.

“Yes.” A single nod of his head. “For now.”

There aren’t many reasons Killian would have kept a Troikan Messenger alive. In fact, there’s only one. His weakness—for me. “You think you’re helping me.” What I don’t understand is how Victor’s imprisonment helps me. “I’d rather you stay safe and Victor goes home.”

Now he gives a clipped headshake. “You don’t get a say in this.”

I try a different route. “His friends miss him. I miss him.”

Mistake! He tenses. “You gonna stop loving me if I keep him?”

“No,” I say, but he’s far from pacified.

A muscle jumps beneath his eye. “Maybe there’s something about him I don’t like. Something I’ve never liked, even when he lived in Myriad.”

“Maybe he doesn’t like the fact that Victor can touch you and he can’t,” Sloan calls.

“Shut up, inferior,” he grates.

“Killian—” I begin.

“No.” Rage vibrates from him. “We’re on opposite sides of a war, lass. A choice you made. Do you expect me to lay down my weapons and accept defeat?”

“No, I—”

“Good. Because I haven’t. I won’t. I’m too busy fighting for ye.” His accent thickens. “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done to give ye a better eternity, not just a better present. I’m protecting ye the only way I can. And I’m doing it without lying. Do know how difficult that is? But I do it because I know ye despise liars. Because I want to be a man worthy of ye, even if I can’t have ye.”

“I’m nothing special. I’m not yet worthy of you. But I’m here. I’m yours.”

Abject longing stares at me through those blue-gold eyes...until his expression hardens. “I’m not going to get out of this alive, lass, and I know it.”

“You’re not going to die.” Panic grabs me by the neck and squeezes. “Do you understand?”

He offers me a small, sad smile. “I’m living on borrowed time. When this is over, my crimes will be exposed and punishment will come. I’ll be kept alive only as an insurance policy against you, my life used to control yours—to stop you from leading your armies into battle.”

“I don’t have armies!”

He plows on. “Do you really think I’ll let that happen? No, lass. No. I’d rather die than hurt you, and I will. I’ll make sure I go out in a blaze of glory.” He laughs now, but the sound lacks any hint of amusement. “What I did to Dior is being done to me, only a hundredfold worse. Your realm says we reap what we sow. Karma. Justice has come for her due, wouldn’t you say?”

“Killian.” I take a step toward him.

He jumps back, avoiding contact. “I have always believed what’s meant to be will be, and everything will work out the way it’s supposed to work out. This,” he says, spreading his arms, “is my fate.”

“No.” I stomp my foot. “Everything works out when we fight for what’s right. Choice matters. You say you don’t want to lay down your weapons and accept defeat, but that’s what you’re doing. What you’re choosing to do. You have options. You can defect to Troika.”

“Impossible. Your realm would never accept me.”