Page 52 of Touch

“Oftentimes.”

Andrew pauses, his voice tightening. “Who else needs you?”

“Nearly everyone,” she declares. “The human embrace is a gifted thing, but a mortal’s defect is in knowing how to select a life mate. That’s why I’m here. It’s about perfection…” She trails off when Andrew’s demeanor shifts, something about this conversation changing his outlook.

“You’re saying you control what they feel,” he summarizes, then laughs without humor. “You know, I’ve been sitting here, obsessing over your gorgeous mouth, eye-fucking you hard, and hanging onto every word, that I forgot why I’m here. You’re just so…” He stops himself, growling under his breath. “Your power. That’s what you used on Griffin and Ulrik. You brainwashed them.”

Love winces. For the sake of her realm, it’s her duty to lie. Yet the more she and Andrew speak candidly, the harder it is to wedge untruths between them. This mortal deserves better.

“Anger made those shots,” she admits. “He controls the nature of wrath. But yes, he did so at my behest.”

“Anger,” he repeats, tasting the name as if it’s been charred on a stovetop. “The hot titan who’s not your mate but was ‘passing through’ the right place, at the right time.”

“He does not warrant the accolade of titan any more than he warrants to be called intelligent.” Love cringes as though she’s swallowed a vomit-flavored cocktail. “Nor is he my mate.”

“Yet he interrupted his busy schedule to target more than one victim. Not just at your behest, but on your behalf,” Andrew edits. “While making tea, you were talking to yourself. You said something about ‘his type’ but didn’t finish the sentence.” His eyes kindle with treachery. “Fucking hell, you were talking about me.”

Needles prick her throat. She has revealed too much already. If he finds out the particulars of her task, it will further complicate her mission and jeopardize everyone in question. “Andrew, I—”

“Christ, I’m one of your targets. You’ve been playing me for a fool this entire time, just like you’re doing to the rest of this goddamn world.”

“It’s complicated. Please, listen—”

“How the fuck do you live with yourself?” he snarls. “Humans aren’t puppets to manipulate.”

“It’s always been like this. It’s the way of things.” Umbrage loosens her tongue. “You’re a mortal. You’re not meant to understand.”

His tea mug catapults across the room and smashes against the wall. “I know the fucking difference between honoring fate and stealing people’s free will!” he rages, gaining his feet.

She launches off the ground, her voice shaking with indignation, bafflement, and distress. “We’re benevolent. We steer mortals down the right paths, save them from regrets and choices that would otherwise end in spoils. Even more of your people would trip over their own follies and break their necks if it weren’t for us. Instead, we tirelessly reduce that number by a considerable amount!”

“Bull. Shit,” Andrew hisses, his breath pumping against hers. “Mistakes happen, but that doesn’t mean we’re all hopeless. That doesn’t mean you’re entitled to make us your bitches, so you can feel supreme. You have no family. You care for no one. You’ve never been mated, but you’re the one forcing people together? Talk about an error of fucking logic. Millennia of rule, yet it’s clear you know nothing about us, much less about love. I don’t want to be magically desired.Iwant to be enough. That’s not something you have a fucking right to dictate!”

Love reels backward. In that moment, she feels yet another debilitating sensation—unworthiness.

“Andrew,” she implores as he grabs his coat and charges to the door, but when he turns to face her, a brief and horrible silence pinches the room.

“You don’t know the way back,” she frets. “There’s no path, it’s dark outside, and—”

“Even if I weren’t a grown-ass man, you continue to underestimate mere mortals,” he spews. “I don’t need your so-called help. No one does.”

“Ulrik was a distraction, and Griffin made an enemy of you. I’m not obtuse. I know what you’re capable of in a brawl, but I couldn’t bear to stand by. I was protecting you!”

“Why would you do that?” he asks, then parrots her words. “My conflict with Ulrik and Griffin hasalways been like this. It’sthe way of things. Andbythe way? You’re lying again, Little Myth. You were protectingyourself.”

He throws open the door and disappears into the forest.

17

The fire snaps at Love from the hearth. She stares at the door, the threshold littered with shattered fragments of the tea mug.

You were protecting yourself.

Andrew’s words turn her into ash. He’s right. Indirectly, she had been protecting herself, because the survival of The Dark Fates rests on her shoulders.

He’s also wrong. Love had been safeguarding Andrew, for any impediments to his match will lead to his death.

Everything is connected. Everything is linked.

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