Page 96 of Betrothed in Fury
“Come on, Mr. Lorde,” I say.
We head to the dance floor, where our brothers are quick to join us before family begins steadily loosening up. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves—including Logan, who laughs as he performs a few goofy moves—but this only accentuates the disconnect between my surroundings and this inner struggle.
When a slow song comes on, our brothers disperse, finding partners to dance with, and I move close to Logan, positioningourselves for the slow dance, pushing closer than I probably need to, which draws his attention.
“Didn’t realize you could dance, Kill.”
“I’m better at this than moving to pop beats.”
“Maybe you need to learn to cut loose.”
“Maybe you’ll have to teach me how.”
He smirks before studying my face. “What’s wrong?” he presses—of course he would because he’s made it clear he can see more than he should, more than anyone should of what’s going on within me. “You seem uncomfortable.”
No need to dig it in.
“I have a lot on my mind.”
What a fucking understatement. Even worse, the wicked part of me despises him because he’s the reason for all this. Before it was time to follow our fathers’ arrangement, I never suffered like this. Even with my brothers, whom I’d lay my life down for, I never felt this intensity I do with Logan.
But I have what I want. He’s all mine, yet it comes with this ache, knowing I’m the one who will make him miserable for the rest of his life.
The tightness in my chest intensifies. I’m getting lightheaded. “’Scuse me,” I say, pulling away from him.
I hurry into the house, breaking into a cold sweat. Logan calls after me, but I ignore him and rush into the kitchen, bracing myself against the island.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“How can I ever be okay now that I know I’ve ruined your life?” I blurt out.
Damn my impulsiveness. I shouldn’t have shared that with him, but I’m using what self-restraint I have left to still this darkness within me.
Judging by his stunned expression, you’d have thought I attacked him. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t you see? It’s won—this evil in me. It got what it wanted, at the cost of you never finding happiness in this world. I hate myself for it.”
“Killian, something’s wrong. Let’s get you some water, and you should lie down.”
“No amount of water or lying down will make this better.”
Even knowing it’s something happening internally, I loosen my collar and unbutton the top buttons of my shirt.
“Okay, okay,” he says, wrapping his arms around me. I want to shove him away, but it feels so relaxing, I selfishly let him keep me close as he guides me into the adjoining room. He leads me to the couch, where I settle, steadying my breathing.
He heads off, and I hear him running the water in the kitchen before he returns with a glass. I down it, and he takes it and sets it on the coffee table.
“It’s been a busy day,” he says, and I look at him, shocked.
“After what I just told you, you think this is about the busy day?”
“I don’t know where any of this is coming from. Nothing’s changed between earlier and now.”
“You’re wrong. Everything’s changed since our chat before the ceremony. And I can’t bear to be in my own skin. I can’t bear to be what I am, knowing I can never give you what you need. Spending the rest of my life knowing you deserve better.”
“Killian,” he says, taking my hand. I crave it and want to push it away all at once, but my desire to touch him wins. “I don’t care about any of it. I know who you are. I know you can’t love me the way I want. It’s not something you can change, and I wouldn’t ask you to do that. I’ve made peace with it, and it doesn’t change the way I feel about you.”
He says that last part in a particularly pointed way that immediately alarms me. “How do you feel about me?” I ask, terrified I already know the answer.
