Shadow's End (Elder Races, #9)(68)

“Come here,” she whispered. “Come here.”

The monster’s eyes narrowed. For a moment he looked uncertain and so filled with yearning, it caused a deep ache to fill her chest.

Watching her closely, again he obeyed. He bowed his head.

As he did, she stood on tiptoe and kissed that adorable, dangerous monster on his snarly, fang-filled mouth.

He froze. She could tell he wasn’t even breathing. Where she leaned against his chest, the powerful engine of his heart hammered too fast against her breasts.

Then the shape of his body and the contour of his mouth changed. His bruising, iron-hard hold on her gentled.

He gathered her close, slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her with such passionate tenderness, tears spilled out of the corners of her eyes and streaked down her cheeks. She kissed him in return, holding onto him fiercely. For that one moment nothing else existed.

When he eased away, he looked sober and self-contained. His expression was so unlike what she had expected, she shivered.

After a quick glance around the empty room, he muttered, “I lost control.”

“Yes, you did,” she told him gently. “Do you remember what happened?”

His mouth tightened. He passed a hand over her hair in a fleeting caress, then let her go and stepped away. “I remember enough. Soren was angry and aggressive. He came at us too close, too fast. He’s such a dangerous Djinn, it threw me—back to the manor house.” His dark gray eyes met hers briefly before he turned away. “I apologize. It won’t happen again.”

Thrown off-balance, she stared at his broad, powerful back. She thought she had understood what was happening, but this wasn’t anything like she imagined. After such ferocity, and a kiss so devastatingly tender she could still feel his lips on hers, he now acted almost as if he was embarrassed.

Could she have read the situation wrong? Had he really just been thrown back to the confrontation in Wembley?

She felt as if a whole shining future had been snatched away from her. Just as fierce and overwhelming as the joy that had swept through her only moments ago, disappointment crashed down on her so heavily she felt a crushing weight on her chest.

She wanted that future. She wanted it desperately. She wanted him, and the kind of love she sensed that he was capable of giving.

I love him, she thought. Somehow, at some point in time, I fell in love with him.

I want him, more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.

If nothing else, admitting the truth to herself was an immense relief.

She stepped toward him, one hand outstretched, not that he could see it, since he still had his back turned toward her. “It’s all right, Graydon. I don’t want you to apologize. I want . . .”

I want my monster back. The words sounded so raw and needy, she caught herself before she could say them.

His shoulders had stiffened. With an unpleasant shock, she realized that he didn’t welcome anything she might have to say. His silent, rigid posture stopped her words as effectively as if he had stuffed a gag in her mouth.

Breathing hard, she pulled the ragged pieces of herself together. After a moment, she said, “Since you’ve recovered, we should ask the others to return.”

“Yes,” he said. He strode toward the door that led to the outside hall. “We have a lot to do, and as you pointed out, time is slipping away from us.”

His too-quick response shoved her over some kind of edge. She felt as if she had been heading toward that place for a very long time.

After running a gamut of emotions over the last twenty-four hours, she jammed on the emergency brake and came to a full stop. Angling her jaw, she put her hands on her hips.

Maybe it was unwise. But she was tired of trying to be wise. Of trying to think only of the greater good or taking the best course of action.

She was fed up with taking the long view, holding the course. Always looking out for other people.

And f*ck diplomacy. Really, just kick that shit to the curb.

This, she thought, is about what I want. No one else.

Telepathically, she said, We have a lot to do, and a lot to decide. None of it is going to be easy. I get that now is not the time to talk. Even so, I still want you to know I love you. Graydon, I’m in love with you. I think I have been ever since that night we spent in the forest.

Quick as a cat, he spun around to face her. His gaze had turned raw, and a muscle leaped in the tense line of his jaw.

Whatever barrier he had erected between them seemed to be gone. In the face of his intensity, the fierce focus she had acquired splintered completely.

She stumbled on. So . . . either you’ll welcome that, or you won’t. But I’m not going to be silent about it. And . . . and well, that’s all I had to say. Oh, except—after we get done killing Malphas and fighting to free Ferion, I’m going to fight for you too. Unless . . . unless of course you don’t want me to.

Aaaggghh.

As a rousing declaration of love, that foolish speech left a lot to be desired. She felt stupid and naked, and completely out of her depth.

After they stared at each other for a pulsing moment, she threw up her hands and charged for the door. Someone, anyone needed to come back into this blasted suite. In fact, right now would be a good time.

“I love you too,” Graydon said aloud. His voice had gone hoarse. “For two hundred years, I’ve been waiting for you, hoping for you. Fighting for you any way I could. I never dared let myself hope you might feel the same way, or I couldn’t have walked away from you.”