Third Debt (Indebted #4)(92)

IT WAS DONE.

Out in the open.

My disease verbalized and acknowledged.

And she hadn’t run.

She hadn’t looked at me with pity or disgust. She’d accepted it and loved me even more.

Her emotions came in crashes, echoing in my soul. By being honest, I’d given her answers. And with answers came freedom to give in and trip from new love into forever love.

I wanted to crush her to me and never let go. I wanted to get on my f*cking knees and thank her for the rest of my days for being brave enough to accept me.

Life together hadn’t been smooth. Our past was full of debts and degradation. Our future—if we even had a future—would be full of miscommunication and misunderstanding.

I’m not an easy person to love.

I knew that. Kestrel knew that. Jasmine knew that. There were times when I was too much. When their good intentions just weren’t enough and I’d have to leave to regroup on my own.

I could never hate them for that—for needing timeout from dealing with a f*cked-up brother. But Nila…she would be drained of everything. I would take and take and take until that blistering, joyous love would turn to putrid ash.

Can I do that to her?

Could I suck her dry and hope to God she was strong enough to save us both?

Do I have any right to expect her to?

No. I had no right at all.

I should ship her overseas and kill my father to end this entire f*cking mess. But now that I had her…how could I ever let her go?

Nila hadn’t moved or spoken, her eyes full of thoughts.

I murmured, “The day Kestrel gave you Moth, I very nearly broke. I came to your room that night. I sat outside for hours, trying to get myself together so you wouldn’t see how much it f*cking hurt that he’d given her to you.”

Nila sucked in a gasp. “He told me it was your idea. That you wanted to give her to me the day after the Second Debt.”

I flinched. It sounded like I’d hoped to buy her forgiveness for the ducking stool by gifting her a horse. “It wasn’t like that. I only wanted you to have something you’d never had before.” I would’ve stopped normally, censored my thoughts and deleted things that would show the truth, but now…I had more to say. There was so much more, and for the first time, I was able to speak openly.

Pushing the food tray further down the bed, I reclined against the pillows and pulled Nila beside me. We lay down, legs entwined, arms around each other.

For an extraordinary second, I held her and drank in her thoughts. To have no barriers between us—no lies or deceptions—it’s more than words can say.

“That moment in the horse float, heading to polo, I knew how you felt about her. The softening in your soul, the desire to own another’s life, to have something reliant on you—all flowed in a wash of desire.” Inhaling the floral scents of her hair, I whispered, “You fell in love with her a lot faster than you fell for me.”

Nila snuggled closer, squeezing me tight. “All this time you knew how I was feeling?”

Does that hurt you? To know I felt what you did, heard your panic, lived through your agony? Did that make me a terrible person to be able to withstand, not only doing awful things to her, but receiving the consequences of my actions through her, too?

I nodded. “Every debt. Every argument. I felt you.”

She stayed silent; a wave of unfairness flowed from her. I didn’t want her feeling as if I used her—that I’d eavesdropped on her emotions.

I said quietly, “That’s why Cut hates you. He can see the power you have over me—a power that I’ve been taught to hide my entire life.”

Nila went still. “It’s not only Cut who has a power over you. Jasmine does…and Kestrel.”

My muscles locked, but I forced myself to relax. I’d committed to being open. I would continue to keep my promise. “Yes, Jasmine has the same condition as me but not nearly as bad. There are different levels of HSP. I’m on the unusual end of the scale where I’m borderline sixth sense—if the doctors believed in that phenomenon, of course. I’m highly empathetic, to the point where I’ll grow sick when others are ill. My heart rhythm becomes irregular if the stress of the person I’m with goes past my realm of capabilities.”

Nila twisted in my arms. “Oh, my God. The springs.” Her mouth popped wide. “Your heart was irregular then. I thought you were ill…” She dropped her eyes. “Actually, I didn’t think that. I thought you were…”

“What? Tell me.”

Her black gaze swooped upward, capturing me completely. “Lost. I thought your rhythm was lost.”

I swallowed hard. “Perhaps you’re an HSP yourself. Not many people notice my moods or complexities—unless I get terribly bad. Over the years, I’ve been able to hide it better. From the ages of nineteen to twenty-six, I was pretty perfect. Apart from a few episodes from my father’s temper on a deal gone south or my little brother’s arrogant lunacy, I managed to keep their thoughts from creeping too much into mine.”

Nila smiled almost smugly. “But not me.”

I kissed her, slinking my tongue into her mouth. Taking my time, I tasted her as if this was the first time I’d kissed her. And it was in a way. The first time I’d let myself be so open and honest.