Page 156 of Between Fear and Favor

“Because of me?”

“Because of you.”

“Do you still feel guilty?”

“Not for that reason, no.”

“What reason, Dewalt?” she asked, free hand lifting up to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. Gods, I didn’t deserve her gentle touch—not after I’d put that heartbreak in her eyes.

“I should’ve told you about what Lucia said sooner. I-I was selfish. I didn’t want to let you go.” I’d never shown anyone this much vulnerability. Nor had healed so fucking much of my heart, but she’d revealed the hidden wounds too. The last thing I wanted to do was expose her to the rot beneath.

“Then don’t,” she said, biting her lip as if she wished she hadn’t said it.

I hesitated, breath going shallow. And before I could stop myself, before I could stop them, words spilled out of me. Hot and harsh, I knew the question was the sum of all my fears.

“What if I lose you?”

“Oh, Dewalt,” she said, and my heart hammered between my ribs at the sight of her. “But what if you don’t?”

So many futures I’d stopped myself from imagining flashed within my mind. A sun-warmed bed with her wrapped in the sheets. A summer of teaching her to swim, her skin beaded with water. Winter solstice with my family, my newest nephew or niece bundled in her arms. Her irritated sighs and her bewildered laughter. All the things I would never have. My chest caved in, and my eyes filled with tears. Mouth open, I could only stare at the woman before me. Nor deserved everything I’d imagined for her and more. But could it really be me who gave it to her?

She shook her head, frowning over the agony I clearly felt. She breathed deeply, then crossed her arms. As if she was protecting herself.From me.

“Without Lucia, without her schemes and-and without her fucking words,” she started, going very still when that rage-filled curse slipped past her lips, “what would you choose? Would you choose me?” Her voice shook, and no matter how angry she looked, no matter how deeply those brows furrowed, she couldn’t hide the hope in her eyes.

I couldn’t breathe. I would rather have died a thousand deaths than dash that hope. And in looking into those beautiful eyes, the ones which saw down into the heart of me and understood, I found my own hope reflected there. Like a prism, she shined her own light onto me. Since the beginning, she hadn’t danced around what so many others had for so long. Nor had called me on my bullshit and cared for me anyway. She’d had her entire life shifted and turned upside down, and yet she’d handled it with the grace of a queen, never losing who she was. The truth was, it was me who didn’t have a choice. I’d said it that night I’d warmed her body against mine.

She was an inevitability.

Without my notice, my fear had shifted. The potential of losing her to the eternal lands one day was abstract, something far away. The real likelihood of losing her the moment she stepped out that door knocked me on my ass. The loss of the warm mornings and cold nights of my imagination, the exasperated sighs and the indolent kisses. Something like a sob ripped up my throat over the idea that those daydreams could be real—suddenly tangible, I could have them. If only I was brave enough to take them. Despite my fear, despite the knowledge that I could choose her today and lose her tomorrow, I couldn’t deny her.

And I couldn’t deny my heart—not any longer.

“I’d choose you. Idochoose you.”

She didn’t move, didn’t breathe, only stared up at me. Her dark hair was loose around her face, and her cheeks pinked beneath my gaze. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. And yet, she didn’t speak, a storm of emotions on her face.

“You told me you wouldn’t beg for my love,” I said, carefully lowering myself to my knees before her. “I made no such promise, songbird.”

A tear rolled down her cheek, and then she smiled. I would remember that smile for the rest of my life. And then she was crying openly as she cupped my face with both hands. Just like she’d done in the tunnel after leaving Astana, Nor bent over, pressing gentle lips to my forehead.

“You’ve had it, Dewalt. For so very long.”

Tears fell down my own cheeks as I stood. Her smile, that beautiful gods damned smile, was a golden light as she laughed. It was pure joy which escaped her as I leaned in. And then I laughed too, the feeling bubbly and warm. Resting my forehead against hers, I wrapped her tightly in my arms, unwilling to let her go. Nothing else mattered. My fear, my guilt, my grief—all of it was gone when I wrapped my arms around her.

“You are more than I have ever deserved.”

“Don’t say that,” she whispered. “You are proof the gods still listen to my prayers.”

Knowing what that meant to her, knowing she’d prayed for me, I couldn’t hold myself back any longer. Lifting her, I carried her to the desk. Slow and deliberate steps kept me from tripping, my gait different than what I was used to, but I managed. Her arms were wrapped around my neck, and I never wanted her to let go. Gently, I set her down before tipping her chin up to mine. Closing the distance, I pressed my lips to hers. They were as soft as I’d remembered—from the earth lodge and the tavern before that.

Her kiss was just as soft as that very first one—the one which had started me down the path of a brutal yearning. The kiss that I’d thought about upon waking from death, the kiss which had been a source of guilt and joy, the kiss which had been my unraveling. She’d unspooled me with it, and here, now, she was winding me back together. She deepened the kiss, tongue sliding against mine as I opened for her.

My heart raced, and my palms grew sweaty as her tongue explored. When she nipped at my lip, confidence and impatience warring within her, I almost had to stop to breathe. Hanwen’s ass, I wasnervous. I panted, my mind racing as I thought about what this would mean for her.

The shift she wore was thin, and with a shaking hand, I lifted the hem, sliding my hand onto her hip. I hadn’t realized her scars continued all the way down her body, but the texture of her skin there told me just how far-reaching the wounds had been. Blackened rage coiled in my stomach over what her sire had done to her, but I pushed it aside. That hot anger had no place here, not while I touched her with tenderness.

When she didn’t stop the path of my hands, I took her lack of reaction as encouragement. Sliding upward, I idly brushed my thumb over her rib cage as my other hand gently held her neck. Tilting her head just where I wanted it, I moved my lips to her jaw. She smelled good—bergamot and ginger. I inhaled her, the intoxicating smell helping to soothe my nerves. That fear of not being enough for her, oflosing her too,was almost too much to bear. Knowing I chose that fear willingly, unable to face the alternative of not choosing it, would have to be enough. I kissed down her neck as I used my other hand to pull her toward me, craving her proximity.

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