Changed by Fire (Phoenix Rising #6) - Harper Wylde Page 0,155

to hide from the bloody fucking humans. There will never be a time when she’s safe! I’m a bloody fucking dream walker. I can tear people’s souls from their bodies, Nix, did you know that? As easily as fucking breathing, I can shred them until they’re nothing.” His chest was heaving, his face bright red as he screamed at me while I watched him silently.

“And?” I put all of the blasé dryness I could into the word.

He gaped. It was an absolute pleasure to shock the hell out of Ciarán O’Connor, let me tell you. It was a moment I would cherish for the rest of my life. “And?” he sputtered. “I tell you I can shred a person’s soul and your response to that is ‘and?’” He threw his hands up. “Bloody hell, what is wrong with you?” He seemed almost horrified now as he studied me. “Maybe I should be keeping you the hell away from my teddy bear. Horrible influence, you are.”

Idly, I wondered if Kill’s accent would come out this strongly if I infuriated him. No, bad Nix, not a nice way to think. “Your teddy bear, is it?” I mocked him. “I thought you were forsaking her as your mate.”

Ciarán’s shoulders sagged. “I’m forsaking my right to take her as a mate,” he whispered. “It doesn’t mean I forsake my duties to her. I will be here. Forever. Even if I’m stuck in the ether, watching her live on with those bears of hers.”

I scoffed, “Oh, please.” Ciarán tripped on a beer can, hitting the floor with a crash, and I snorted.

“After the issue with the Council, my mates know I could lose control at any time and accidentally kill them—none of us have figured out what that power was. But you know what we did, Ciarán? We grew up and fucking talked about it. I told them I was scared, and they told me we’d work through it, and they trust that I’m not going to hurt them, that if I tried, one of their brothers would stop me before I was able to. You Celts. You think you’re so romantic and broody.”

I flipped my hair, and then my hands found my hips. “Let me tell you something. It’s not fucking romantic. Do you want to know what’s romantic? Having a mate who will let you share the worst things that have ever happened to you, while they tell you they still love you anyway. It’s having a mate who doesn’t care if you’re covered in vomit or blood or piss or anything else. They will pick you up, bathe you, and make sure you’re taken care of. It’s having a mate who knows how to laugh with you, even when they’re having a terrible day. It’s having a mate who will stand beside you while you both fucking fight to your deaths. Romance isn’t perfection, Ciarán. It’s not being everything for someone. I’m broken. I’m more broken than you can even comprehend. I’ve been beaten, killed, raped, terrorized, kidnapped, and drugged, and it doesn’t change my mates’ love for me in the slightest. “

Ciarán’s eyes were huge as they stared into mine. He hadn’t bothered to get off the floor, still sprawled in the bottles around him as I stood over him, my chest heaving as I tried to drag in air. “If you aren’t willing to accept the parts of Rini that aren’t perfect, then yes, you better stay the fuck out of her life before I haul your sorry ass out of it. If you think you’re better than her because you’re a mythological and she’s a bear, then I’m going to hand you your ass before I make sure you’re never exposed to my best friend again.”

Ciarán made a strangled noise. “That’s what she thinks?” His words were a ragged whisper. “She… she thinks I walked out because of what she is?”

“What else could she think?” I challenged. “Do you really think any woman who hears, ‘I’m doing this for you, it’s me, not you,’ believes a word of it? It’s a fucking cliché for a reason, Ciarán.”

He scrambled to his feet, knocking trash aside as he grabbed my shoulders. His face was white under the grime that coated it, his green eyes nearly glowing as he shook me slightly. “Tell me that’s not what she thought.” The words were a plea.

“Rini talks a big game, but she’s your mate. She loves you with everything she has, but she also

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