The King (Black Dagger Brotherhood #12) - J.R. Ward Page 0,132

but I’m still of value, blah, blah, blah’—things haven’t worked out like that for me, though. In my head…” He made a circle at his temple. “I’m not anything. I’m not … anything.”

Suddenly, Selena wanted to weep. To stare across at this absolutely magnificent male … and know that in his heart, he saw nothing of what he was? It was a crime—a crime caused by the very people who should have cared most about him.

“Is that why you were with the humans?” she heard herself ask.

In the silence that followed, it was difficult to draw an even breath: She was frightened of his answer. For a whole lot of reasons.

“Yeah.” He cursed under his breath. “Like, you know, I was with this woman—right before I got the migraine.”

That was just the other night, she thought, wanting to cringe—

“And she was as empty as I was feeling. Just two hollow bodies clapping together. It didn’t mean anything, and that’s what I’ve been doing all these years. Physical exercise and that was it.”

Selena struggled for the right thing to say, something that was even-keeled and signaled that she was comfortable with what he was telling her … when in reality it was ripping her heart out. Even though it shouldn’t have.

She’d spent how much time with him? An hour? Two at the very most?

Impending death was making her reckless—

“I could save them,” he said, almost to himself. “If I sacrifice myself, I can save my mother and father.”

He shifted his head to the side sharply and a crack sounded out.

“Here,” she murmured, moving behind him. “Allow me.”

Pushing his hand out of the way, she gripped his iron-hard shoulders and squeezed as he had done, trying to work some ease into the muscle fibers. As she worked at him, his smooth skin slid over ropes of tension, but that was the only thing that seemed to be accomplished.

He groaned. “That feels amazing.”

“I don’t think I’m doing anything.”

His hands briefly covered her own. “You are. More than you know.”

Selena continued the massage and thought of her own past. “As I said, I didn’t have a proper mother and father. I was raised with and by my sisters. I was needed to further the traditions, but I cannot say I was ever wanted by anyone. Claimed, as it were. So, in a way, I can imagine how you feel—bred but not born, as it were, because born implies you were hoped for, prayed for.”

He leaned his head back and stared up at her. “Yeah. That’s exactly it.”

She smiled at him and pushed him back into position.

“If my parents are killed, I feel like I’m going to go to hell,” he muttered.

“But you can’t be culpable in this, because you never consented.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You were promised when you were incapable of giving consent—indeed, it sounds as though they never even asked you. Therefore, your failure to perform, and any consequences thereto? They are your parents’ to claim, not yours. This is about you and yet has nothing to do with you.”

“God…”

When he didn’t finish, she frowned. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be presumptuous.”

“You’re not. You’re … perfect.”

“Hardly.”

“I want to do something for you.”

She stilled. “What?”

Because she had some ideas.

“Something worthwhile.”

She eyed the fur rug she had been stretched out on. Oh, it would be worthwhile …

“But I keep coming up with nothing.”

Selena sighed. “Your presence is plenty.”

Trez put his hands over hers again and pulled her forward so that she was draped over his back. Holding her there, he put his head against her own.

As he breathed in, his great torso expanding, she was lifted from the floor and brought back down. “Thank you,” he said in a voice that cracked.

“I have done nothing.”

“You’ve made me feel like I’m not evil. And tonight, that’s everything.”

“Oh, you are never that,” she whispered as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Not you, not ever.”

Closing her eyes, she held on to him, and found herself becoming connected with him at the soul level. To the point where she didn’t know how to leave him. Not just tonight, but … whenever her destiny finally claimed her.

“Have you eaten?” he asked after a while.

“Actually … no.” Her stomach rumbled. “And I am hungry.”

“Let’s go downstairs. My brother was making some of his sauce—or at least, I assume so. He does that every time I have a headache.”

Selena relinquished her hold and went to ease back—

Without warning, her spine rebelled, the vertebrae locking into their position. Trez, on the other