I feared she’d see. And maybe she never would. Maybe if she stopped touching and connecting with my emotions, the memories would stop.
“I don’t want you to go into my mind anymore, Vienne,” I told her, keeping my voice low. “You said my memories are the first you have ever dreamed, so maybe they will stop with time…as long as I don’t feed them to you anymore.”
“Feed them to me?” she asked, her eyes flashing. “I’m not like a parasite, Davik. I don’t mean to see them. I don’t want to. It just happens. And besides—”
She cut herself off and I could see that my words had struck a nerve. I sighed. Whatever she’d been about to say was lost as her irritation rose.
“I am sorry, leikavi,” I murmured, apologizing to her for the second time in a handful of days when I truly didn’t remember the last time I’d apologized to anyone, though it had probably been to Devina…or my lomma. “I did not mean it that way. But there are things that I have done, moments in my past that I do not want you to see,” I confessed.
The anger in her tight expression began to soften. “Like what?”
I huffed out a small breath. “Moments of rage. Moments when I’ve killed. Moments I’ve...” I trailed off, trying to ease the tightness rising in my chest. My voice was gruff and hardened when I said, “They are moments I do not even want to relive again. I do not want you to either.”
Because then…she truly might understand what I’d told her weeks ago. That I truly was a monster.
And what would happen then?
She would fear me. She might recoil from my touch.
In Dothik, when I’d brought her into my personal chamber from the dungeons, I’d wanted her to fear me. But now?
It would tear at me if she did.
“Do not go into my mind anymore, Vienne. Promise me.”
“I don’t know if I can promise that, Davik,” she whispered.
My brows furrowed.
“My gift keeps me safe, no matter how much I don’t like to use it.”
I realized what she was saying. “I would never hurt you,” I growled.
“I know,” she said, her expression softening, which only added to my confusion. “But just like in Dothik, what happens if there comes a time when we want different things? What happens if there comes a time when I will need to make decisions for myself? I have my family to think of. I cannot be controlled. Especially by you.”
“So you will just control others?” I snapped. My heart was racing and I felt her press her palm harder against the angry thrumming, as if she was trying to soothe it.
“I’m trying to be realistic, Davik,” she whispered. “We—we both know that this is temporary. A small piece of time before everything else comes rushing back in.”
I cursed low under my breath.
“I can protect you,” I rasped, the words sounding stilted even to me.
She smiled but it was sad and that expression tore at me. Because I realized that she believed I couldn’t.
“Can’t…can’t we just enjoy this?” she asked softly. “Can’t we just enjoy this while it lasts?”
In her eyes, there wasn’t an alternative. And I realized that I couldn’t give her one without revealing our plans to her, without revealing that we never intended to give in to the Ghertun’s demands, which she believed. Without revealing that I’d been deceiving her, that I knew where the heartstone lay, that Lokkaru had told me its location long ago.
Give it time, came the voice. It didn’t sound like my own. It was much too calm, much too rational. Give it time and maybe soon, she will trust you. Maybe soon, she will realize that you can protect her, that she has nothing to fear…
“Please,” she whispered, leaning forward to brush her lips against mine. And I felt myself give in to her. Releasing a breath, I returned her kiss, cupping the back of her neck, pressing her into me.
“On one condition,” I rasped.
She pulled back, wariness in her gaze. “What is it?”
“Tell me what memory you dreamed.”
Her parted lips closed.
“On one condition,” she said back.
My brows rose.
She swallowed, her eyes flickering back and forth between mine.
“You tell me about your sister.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
It was a gamble.
A large part of me thought he would shut me down, that he would grow angry since I knew it must be a painful subject.
But the expression that stole over his face was knowing. As if he’d been expecting it. His