Torn (A Wicked Saga, #2)(90)

I held my breath, hoping that it was who I thought it was but praying that it wasn’t at the same time. But it was. It was Ren. He looked like he’d showered and changed. The gray Henley he wore hugged the lean lines of his body, and the sweats hung low on his hips. He was barefoot.

Ren’s gaze swung right to the bed. He stopped just inside the door, not moving, and he didn’t look away.

“I’m sleepy,” Tink announced suddenly. He rose before I could say a word, then scooped up the sleeping kitten. He leaned over, kissing my cheek. “See you in the morning.”

Tink was surprisingly quiet as he exited the room, not saying anything to Ren as he closed the door behind him. There was no doubt in my mind that he was a bit worried about my mental state, not that I could blame him.

I was a bit worried myself.

Sitting up against the stack of pillows, I clenched the comforter as Ren approached the bed, his steps slowing.

He sat down on the edge, and those eyes, so green and so warm, so human, met mine. I had to ask myself once again how I could have ever mistaken the prince for him. The eyes had been the same color, but that was it. When I’d seen him in that horrible place, his face had been battered. Now, there was no sign of those bruises or cuts, but he was haunted. I saw it in his eyes.

It struck me then that this was the first time Ren and I were together, both of us in a stable and safe environment, no one tied up or chained, since I’d told him I loved him and that I was the halfling.

So many things had happened since then.

Too many things.

And neither of us was the same.





Chapter Thirty-One


Ren exhaled slowly as his gaze roamed over my face. I had no idea what I looked like, and it was only then that I realized I was still in the robe that was now covered with tiny, gray cat hairs. My jaw ached, and I knew it was probably bruised, and my hair was a wet, curly mess.

“Your eye,” he said quietly. I didn’t get what he was saying at first. “It looks like a vessel burst in your left eye.”

“Oh.” I blinked, having no idea that had happened. “It doesn’t hurt.”

He tilted his head to the side and then his gaze flicked to my neck. “I should’ve gotten there sooner. There was a damn accident on US 11, and it slowed us down.”

“It’s not your fault.” I crossed my arms, staring at the paisley design on the bedspread. “And you did get there in time. You stopped him.”

“It’s my fault.”

My gaze lifted, and I found him staring at me. “What?” I said.

“All of this.” He gestured with his arm. “It’s my fault. I handled things wrong. I got caught up in my head and wasn’t paying attention. Walked right into a damn trap. And because of me, that bastard was able to get his hands on you.”

The tightening around my chest increased. I couldn’t believe he was blaming himself. “Ren, you can’t hold yourself responsible for any of this.”

“Yeah, I can. I left you that night when you told me what you were. My head was f*cked up. I should’ve known better than to go after the fae when I did. I wasn’t in the right frame of mind, and I got myself captured.”

I looked away, drawing in a shallow breath. “Then isn’t it really my fault? I blindsided you, and I didn’t even tell you about the prince. I . . . I kept that from you. If I had warned you about him being around, you would have been better prepared.”

“I didn’t give you a chance to tell me about him,” he said, and paused. “I wish you hadn’t waited to tell me. I get why you did—why you felt you couldn’t. I’m a member of the Elite—was a member, anyway.”

“Was?” I whispered.

“Not officially an ex member, but I’ve been MIA for weeks. That’s not going to go over well with those in charge.”

“No,” I agreed. He was right. “Doubt it’s going to go over well for either of us.”

Ren turned his body toward me. Our gazes met for a moment, and then I focused my eyes on the bedspread again. Deep inside, my chest ached as if it had been cracked wide open. A moment passed. “I really don’t care about any of that right now,” he said. “Maybe that’s the wrong thing to be thinking, but I don’t give two f*cks about the Order. I don’t want to talk about them. I want to talk about us.”

My heart turned over. I wasn’t sure I was ready for this conversation, because I knew what was coming. I bent my knees, tugging the edges of the robe over them. “I’m kind of sleepy. I mean, it’s been a really long night and I just want—”

“Don’t,” he said, his voice so soft that I had to look at him, and I lost the ability to look away. “Don’t shut me out, Ivy. I know I deserve it if you do, but please don’t.”

“You deserve it?” My voice cracked. What in the world was he talking about? I didn’t get it. How could he really think all of this was his fault? Words tumbled out in a rush. “He pretended to be you.”

Ren drew back, his shoulders stiffening.

“Did you know that?” I asked, but went on before he could answer. “After you left Monday night, no one knew where you were Tuesday. Then you—or I thought it was you—showed up on Wednesday, and you said it didn’t matter what I was. That you still wanted to be with me, and I was . . . I was just so desperate to believe that, that I didn’t see what was right in front of me. He pretended to be you—looked like you, sort of sounded like you, but he wasn’t you. I should’ve realized immediately that it wasn’t you, but I didn’t until later that day. I should’ve known immediately.”