frankly you haven't believed me about anything else since I got here."
He flinches as if I struck him with my words, and he turns to face me again. "Believing you means giving up on my own hope," he says simply, and it strikes me then that we all nurture our own lies, our own shortsightedness, when the truth is too shattering to our necessary realities. It's how we survive an inhospitable world.
It’s how we live with our pain.
I spent my life convincing myself the women in my family were all insane, because if I'd even once seriously considered we were of magical descent, born witches with power, I would have had to face the truth: that my mother died in vain. That every woman in my family lineage died for nothing.
Sometimes the truth is too painful to face.
But we've run out of time, and lies, and now we all must break the illusions we've been flirting with and commit to the reality we've been dealt. Before that reality destroys everything.
I am a witch. Descended from others like me. That’s my new truth.
I give the man beside me time to adjust his understanding of his own truth, before asking again. "Do you believe me?"
Finally, he looks at me, his lips set in a firm line, his eyes hardened to his new reality. "Yes, Celeste. I believe you. And I won't let him hurt you again."
13
Voices coax me awake. I stir slowly, a sense of safety cocooning me until the fog of sleep is chased off by a sudden awareness of reality. I’m still a prisoner. Wrapped in a down quilt and sharing a private room with twin werewolf brothers equally devoted to me and equally gorgeous, but a prisoner all the same. Beside me, propped against the headboard, Dean runs his fingers lightly over my hair.
Mouth dry, I pull my arm free from where I’d wound it tightly around his waist and grab for the water bottle on the nightstand. I tip it back and drink generously as I tune into the conversation they’ve apparently been having while I slept.
“He’s definitely playing his own game,” Declan says quietly from where he leans against the dresser, shirtless with his arms crossed over his chest. “It was bad enough when he was screwing with us, but now he’s pulled her into it. Taking her blood is only the beginning. When that doesn’t work, he’ll resort to the same torture he’s put us through.”
“We won’t let that happen.”
“Like we didn’t let him torture us?” Declan challenges.
Dean looks away. “She’s smarter than you’re giving her credit for,” he says, and I set the water down again.
“I’m right here you know.”
“Trust me, we haven’t forgotten,” Dean says, smiling at me. “How was your nap?”
I ignore him and turn to Declan. “I am smarter,” I tell him stubbornly. “I got us out of that dungeon, didn’t I?”
Declan softens as he pushes off the dresser and crosses to where I sit amid rumpled covers. He kneels and brushes hair out of my eyes. “You did, love. You’re brilliant. I’m just worried about you. That bastard wants you for something. I just want to know what.”
“We know he wants her alive,” Dean says. “That’s something.”
But Declan scowls at him over my shoulder. “I’m not willing to bet anything on that piece of shit. Especially not her life. Are you?”
I press my finger to the creases between his worried eyes, wanting to reassure him. “It’ll be all right.”
He pins me with a fierce, promising look. “I will protect you.” His gaze flicks to Dean who scoots in behind me, pressing his chest to my back.
“We both will,” Dean says against my ear.
“We will protect each other,” I say and Declan nods, satisfied with that.
“Someday you both will have the bakery you’ve always dreamed of. I can already smell the freshly baked bread.”
“And what of your dreams, love?” Declan asks.
“I’m still working on that,” I say softly. “My dreams turned to nightmares, and it’s been impossible to turn them back.”
“We will help you make new dreams,” he says.
Silence follows and Declan’s worried expression shifts to something else as his gaze dips to my mouth. He leans in, brushing a kiss across my lips, and my entire body shudders in pleasure. Dean’s hand caresses my neck and I close my eyes, enjoying the feeling of their touch, their closeness.
The sound of the lock clicking free makes us all jump.
Declan shoots to his feet and Dean slides closer, angling his body to shield