Page 169 of Daughter of No Worlds

As he blurted out, “This isn’t what I want.”

Chapter Sixty-One

Max

This isn’t what I want.

It all depended on the definition of “this” — whether those words were unshakably true or the biggest fucking lie I had ever told anyone else or myself.

Still, the sentence leapt out of me before I could stop it. And the hurt that careened across Tisaanah’s face gutted me. “Oh.”

Her mouth turned down. She had a perfect mouth, with a top lip slightly fuller than the bottom, and corners that always, always curled up just a little at the very edges. Even now.

It was an effort not to stare at it. It always had been.

Right. It all depended on the definition of “this.”

If “this” was the sensation of her lips against my neck, or that little sound that I suspected she didn’t even know she’d made, or the way that she felt enveloped in my arms…

If “this” was the sound of her voice, or the way she saw the world, or her stupid jokes…

“I never expected this from you, Tisaanah,” I choked out. We were still so close. Our noses almost touched. I could barely focus on the words I forced out of my mouth. “Almost every single person in your life has used you. And I’m not— This isn’t—”

And I wouldn’t be another one of those people, unwittingly or not.

This isn’t what I want.

If “this” was her lips, her body, her kiss, her touch, I would be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about those things. If I hadn’t had to shove them into a dark corner of my mind, never to be disturbed, never to be addressed.

But if “this” was her friendship, her companionship, her trust? Her happiness? Her safety?

Those things were worth more to me than anything else ever would be. Downright precious.

And for that, I would throw everything else into a box and lock it away never to be acknowledged, permanently, if that’s where they needed to be. I had already been prepared to do that.

My thumb swept over her left cheek, where gold skin met white. “We can erase the last minute and a half, Tisaanah. Never speak of it again.”

She whispered, “Is that what you want?”

“Is that whatyouwant?”

We were so close that our breaths mingled. Hers was trembling. Or was it mine?

There was no hesitation as she whispered, “No.”

Something wrenched in my chest. Something I couldn’t, or perhaps wouldn’t, identify.

“Today was a hard day,” she murmured. “I saw things that scared me. I did things that scared me. I want to claim you tonight because maybe we won’t have tomorrow. So, no. It isn’t.”

Claim!I was not even remotely prepared for the reaction that inspired in me, a dizzying, near-primal desire that scorched my every muscle. I never thought that word would sound so appealing.

“Is that whatyouwant?” she asked. “To forget it?”

The moonlight glinted in her eyes as she stared at me — those stunning, mismatched eyes, that now, as they always did, saw right through me. Her gaze was tired, her hair tangled and messy, her clothing oversized and simple. And yet, I suddenly found myself unable to breathe, because to call her beautiful would be such an understatement that it was downright insulting.

My chest tightened again, and I realized what it was that I’d been feeling:

Terror. Sheer terror.

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