Through the Fire (Daughter of Fire, #1)(64)

I opened my eyes and glanced up at his face. I caught him staring at me with such a tender expression that my breath caught in my throat. His breathing sped as a slow smile spread across his lips. “I’m having such a hard time,” he admitted softly.

My heart clenched at his words, which were in direct contrast to the love radiating from him. “With what?” I asked.

He blew out a shaky breath. “With trusting that this is real. I’ve imagined it so many times that it’s hard to believe you’re actually here.”

I twisted in his arms and pressed a kiss against his chest. “Believe it,” I said. “I’m not going anywhere without you.” Not again, I added in my head.

“What was it like for you? You know . . . after.”

I scoffed. “Harder than you could imagine.”

I hadn’t meant the words with any malice, but he flinched beneath me in reaction to them, or possibly the regret they caused him.

I pushed myself up off the bed. “Don’t do that,” I admonished.

He frowned.

“I told you how I feel about ‘what-ifs.’ We’re here now, together, that’s what matters.”

I pressed my hand against his chest; his heart beat a steady rhythm against my palm. “This is what matters.”

He looked away from me, his guilt obviously still working through his system. I wrapped myself around him again.

“So when did you . . .” he cleared his throat. “You know.”

Lifting my head a little, I got a better view of his discomfort, which I found endearing. “When did I what?”

He dragged his hand through his hair. I figured it was his back-up nervous tick because his neck was pressed against the pillow. “When was your first time?”

I dropped my head back to rest on his arm. I’d known the question was going to come up before long, and I only hoped Clay could understand the choices I’d made. “About a year after you left.”

He shifted beneath me obviously, not happy with the topic even though he’d been the one to raise it. “Did you love him?”

I shook my head. “He wasn’t anyone special, just some guy. It was a very dark time for both of us, and we kind of began to rely on each other. We were both lonely and, well, one night we were drinking away our sorrow when one thing led to another. I just wanted to feel loved again.”

“What happened?”

Wrapping my arms around Clay, I said, “I was stupid. I showed him . . . what I can do.”

Clay frowned.

“He called me a freak and threatened to call the police.”

I held onto Clay in a way that anchored me to reality and reminded me that I wasn’t in that place any longer.

“There was one other, one who didn’t care about my heat or the strange things I can do.”

He rubbed my arm reassuringly. “Tell me about him?”

“We probably could have had a chance at happiness, if I’d stayed,” I said quietly, knowing that as hard as it was for me to talk about that time in my life, it must have been equally as difficult for Clay to hear it. “His joy for life was infectious and with his large family, he might have been able to keep me safe. But one day I realized I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. When I was with him, I couldn’t get you out of my head. He saved my life, and I thanked him by walking away.” I looked up at Clay, hoping that he’d understand the things I needed to tell him about Aiden. “In some ways, he was probably perfect for me.”

“Why?” Clay lifted his hand up and rested it underneath his head.

I missed his touch instantly. “He . . . he wasn’t human either.”

“He wasn’t human?” Clay rolled away from me and sat bolt upright. “What was he?”

“Does it matter?” I asked. The shift in his emotions left me uneasy. We were talking about ancient history. Who, or more specifically what, Aiden was had no bearing on anything anymore.

“It matters to me.”

“Fae,” I said quietly.

“You were mixed up with fairies?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is a bad thing,” he snapped.

“It was a Seelie court,” I said. He had to know the difference.

“As if that fucking matters,” Clay sneered.

I couldn’t help but take his attack personally even though it was aimed at the fae. It was a judgement on my choices when it came to Aiden. “He was kind to me, his whole court was nice to me; they welcomed me and treated me like one of their own.”

“Fae aren’t friendly, Evie,” he snapped.

I flinched against the harsh, bitter edge to his words and pulled out from his slackened arms. Shifting away from him, I pulled the bed sheet over me and ran my fingers through my hair.

“They aren’t nice. They tortured my sister for years. They did things to her that no child should ever have to experience, and they did it for what reason? Fun?” His voice was edging toward hysteria.

“That wasn’t my experience,” I retorted. Regardless of my love for Clay, I had to defend Aiden and his family. After all, the fae had taken care of me when I didn’t have the wherewithal to take care of myself. Whatever Clay’s opinion of them, and despite how it had ended with Aiden, my memories of my time with the fae would always be fond ones. First they had saved my life, and then they’d saved my happiness—by helping me find Clay. “Aiden helped me when I wasn’t interested in helping myself. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be here with you now.”