Page 132 of Reap & Sow

And suddenly Kit’s fingers were sliding into her hair, thumbs tracing the cut in her hairline. He pressed his forehead to hers. “Scorn me, if you must. Curse my name; send me away. I will go. I will do anything you ask. But yes, Eda Shaw, Breaker of Gateways, Hero of Humans. If what I feel is not love, then I shall never know the meaning of the word. I am…I am wretched with the wanting of you.” His eyes, Eda realized with shock, were wet. His voice broke. “Just thought you should know.”

She kissed him.

It was profound, the way they surged together. The world narrowed down to the places where they touched. Their breaths came fast and labored. He pulled her bodily against him, shuddered as she twined her arms about his neck. His scent surrounded her—wine and lightning storms. They layered kisses upon kisses into the waiting heat of the other, pliant and needy. Eda had never put much stock in prayer, but she wondered if this was what the Faithful found in worship. A beautiful sense of belonging, a burning devotion.

“You’re a fool,” she gasped, finally pulling away.

His hands tightened on her waist. He’d transformed, she realized—his horn brushed the crown of her head. “Obviously. What sort of cretin declares his love amidst blood and entrails? I promise I’m usually more suave than this.”

Eda laughed. Kit grinned with both fangs, eyes crinkling at the corners. He caught her bottom lip once more, kissing her with a devastating ardor that had her melting into him like wax before a flame. But just as Eda’s happiness threatened to lift her clear off the ground, he pulled back. His smile turned small and sad, if no less wistful.

Unease rose. “What is it?”

“I told you once that demons are greedy. It’s true. I would keep you forever if I could. If you would let me.” His voice wavered, raw. “But you don’t have forever.”

It was like ice water down her back. “That—it doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. I’m the one who asked you to make the Pact, and I’d do it again. If I only have a few years left, then…then they’ll be very good years. So long as you’re there.”

His expression only crumpled further. “I’ve no wish to live in any world where you are not. You think I will ever be happy again, after knowing what it is to be yours? Knowing it was I that sent you to an early grave?”

“Kit—”

“Do not ask me to watch you die.”

“I don’t understand.”

He drew away and plucked up a discarded silver sword, careful to touch only the cloth-bound grip. It had been forgotten between the pews—the same one Mr. Night splintered in his fury. The blade was broken in half at a perilously sharp angle.

“There’s only one way to get your years back.”

He pressed the sword into her hands.

Understanding struck her like a thunderclap. Like a frigid wind, chilling her to the bone. Eda gripped the hilt with numb fingers and watched, horrified, as Kit knelt at her feet. He looked up at her with infinite tenderness. A supplicant before his deity.

She wanted to slap him.

“No.”

“Eda.”

“I said no!” She threw the sword down. “How could you—how could you even suggest—” She was shaking. Her breaths came quick and shallow. “You’re asking me to kill you?”

“Yes.”

Eda raged in the face of his calm, his quiet surety. “And you thought I would actually do it?”

“You must.”

“No.”

“You must, Eda.” He gripped her hand. “I die willingly.”

“Stop it!” She tore away from him. “I did not go through all of this, all of this…pain and suffering just to lose you in the end. How dare you? How dare you even ask it of me!”

He surged to his feet and shook her, just hard enough to render her silent. “You do not have a choice, you beautiful stubborn creature! Do you understand? If I don’t die, then you will.” He wiped something from her cheek. She was crying again. Perhaps she’d one day fill an ocean with her grief. “You will die, Eda. Not today, not tomorrow, but soon enough. You’ll leave your brothers to mourn you, for me to mourn you. Do not tell me you wish for that. Do not tell me you would give up so easily. You’ve still the whole world to discover, remember?”

Why now, when she needed it most, did his self-serving nature fail to materialize? You will never know what it is to be mortal until you can face the inevitability of your own death, she told him in the hunter’s house. How she wished to take back the words.

“You said you wouldn’t leave me again.” Her voice warbled like a dying bird. Be a coward, she begged him with her eyes. Be selfish and fearful if it means you won’t make me do this.