Page 98 of King of Ruin

He nods. “You are. And when you figure that out–when you accept it–you know where I’ll be.”

My heart swells, and a knot forms in my throat. His patience is one I’ll never know, but truly appreciate.

Instead of a response, we both remain quiet, and I let him do what he always does, and wash me clean. When he’s all done, it’s all I can do to not grab onto his hand and tell him to stay. Tell him to lay with me until I fall asleep.

But that rational side of me that’s been in charge rears its head and reminds me of all that’s happened in the past week. All that we’ve been through.

I need to rest. To sleep. Eat a full meal.

So instead of doing what my entire body yearns to do, I accept his outstretched hand and hoist myself from the tub.

He hands me a towel before turning. “I’m going to get your breakfast and get patched up by Cat before I go. Lay down and I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Thank you.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t thank me. It’s my job to take care of you,mo bhanríon.”

A smirk curls my lips before I can stop it, but then the tender spot in my chest aches when he turns, leaving me in the bathroom alone.

I stare at the door until goosebumps sprout over my shoulders, the result of cold water dripping from the tips of my hair.

It could be the fatigue, or maybe just the beginning of a new era, but nothing feels the same. My mind, heart, and soul are at war, all of them fighting for dominance as to who should have the last say.

My mind is stubborn. It repeats Antonio’s teachings over and over. It tells me to stuff down the need I feel to give in to my heart. To give in to the passion that arises every time I even think of Kane. But my mind is also selfish. It wants me to claim Kane the same way he claims me, even though it doesn’t want me to care.

An uninvited image of another woman on his arm turns my entire body hot almost immediately, that foolish heart of mine squeezing with a flare of envy.

My heart. Such a distracting muscle. It hasn’t worked quite right in ten years, and after Antonio, I’m not sure how it still works at all. I thought it would take its last beat when I was out there on the grass. In front of their graves crying. Screaming.

Hoping.

The waves of my life were overwhelming me. Consuming me. Tearing my vessel to shreds with every lash of lightning, and score of wind. In those moments, I sent a silent prayer to my parents that if I was meant to come out of this alive, to let me find a light to lead me back to shore. To somehow calm the raging waters.

And they did.

Ezekiel Kane did.

My eyes flash to the door again.

My soul, my innate being, is made up of the remnants of my mother and father. It’s crafted from devotion, commitment, admiration, and love. It burns with the fire to help the helpless, and save those who deserve retribution. To condemn those who don’t.

Even through my plans for vengeance, I never lost those things. Perhaps they had been snuffed out a bit, placed on the backburner. But never gone completely, no matter how much my uncle tried.

To give him due credit, he taught me many lessons over the years that would result in us getting everything we wanted. He prepared me, and made me into the donna, and machine that I am today. But whether it was because we never thought I would survive the other side of that justice, or simply because he didn’t think he’d live to see it, we never talked about life after we succeeded.

Life after I found a reason to love. Towantto love.

My gaze flits to the bloody box near my dresser. Is it mad that I’m smitten with the fact that Kane brought me the head and heart of his father? Perhaps. But I’ve never proclaimed to have my sanity.

And the man who has brought me back from the brink of death twice now doesn’t seem to mind at all.

He doesn’t mind any of my faults. He doesn’t try to fix them either. He likes to be everything I need, when I need it, while also enjoying those very same aspects about me. Kane is my light, my shore to rest, and I refuse to give that up.

I refuse to give him up.

The idea formulates before I step out of my bathroom. I make quick work of dressing and putting up my hair. I grab a new towel and wrap the box up before tucking it beneath my arm and exiting my room. I pass the stairs and go down the long hall, past the long windows that look out over the pool, and stop just before my uncle’s door.

I don’t have my father, nor my mother, and perhaps for that reason, I need his blessing. His release from the chains that tell me I can’t do this. That Kane and I can’t make it work.

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