Page 19 of The Storm
“You’re right.” He slammed the bedroom door shut. “Because you refuse to tell me. It’s been fifteen years, Renata. I don’t even know where you were born. I don’t know who your parents were. I don’t know what your training was. I don’t know anything about your life before every damn thing in our world went to shit.”
She ignored him and went back to packing.
“Who was your mother?” He stood behind her, looking over her shoulder. “What was her name? I’ve told you everything, and you tell me nothing. Who was your father? What is the mark on your forehead? Does it have something to do with who you were?”
“You want to know who I was?” She slammed her suitcase and spun around, shoving him back.
“Yes!”
“I was a fool!” she shouted. “I was a little girl who sang songs about history and magic and thought they meant something. I was a weakling who thought that a mountain and the warrior I loved could protect me from anything.”
She saw his eyes narrow.
“Did you think there was only you, Maxim?” She pointed to her forehead where Balien’s mark still shone when her magic was high. “I was supposed to be mated. That’s what this mark is.”
There. She saw the hurt in his eyes.Is that enough knowledge for you?
“You know what?” he said through gritted teeth. “I don’t care. You’re lying to yourself if you say we don’t have a relationship. We’re good together, Renata. Hell, we have the exact same job. There’s no reason we shouldn’t work together. We make the perfect team.”
He was right. And she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t do it to him. Deep in her gut, she knew that one day Max would find hisreshonand it wouldn’t be her. He’d find the woman heaven had created for him and it would be perfect harmony. He deserved that. He deserved more than a half-dead woman whose heart had been ripped from her chest.
For months she’d used the excuse of them working together to indulge herself. She’d slept next to him at night, fought by his side, laughed and eaten meals with him, pretending that what they had could be something more.
How could she say goodbye?
She felt the tears in her eyes and hated them. Hated her weakness.
Max came to her and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Just tell me why. I’m tired of this, Reni. I’m done pretending it’s enough. I want more. I want a life together. I’d never leave you in Istanbul. Why would I? I want you to fight beside me. I love—”
“Don’t tell me you love me,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut. “You don’t know what love is.”
His hands dropped as if she’d burned them.
“The warrior I almost mated? His name was Balien of Damascus. He was a great man. A warrior who fought in the Crusades. He was a knight of Jerusalem, a Rafaene scribe, and myreshon. We knew the moment we saw each other, and his voice…?” She wiped away the tears that poured down her cheeks. “He was the other half of my soul. Loving him was the most beautiful thing in my life, and no other joy has ever compared to it. He gave his life saving mine.”
Max was like a statue. She couldn’t meet his eyes. She felt nothing from him. No anger. No pain. She kept her shields clamped shut, afraid to hear the voice of his soul.
“You’re going to find that joy someday,” she whispered. “And you deserve to. You’re going to find yourreshon, Maxim. Find your true mate.” She took a deep breath and cut the last delicate ties holding them together. “But it’s not going to be me. You’re right. We should stop pretending.”
By the time Renata looked up, all she could see was his back as Max walked out the door.
Chapter Four
Ciasa Fatima, 2017
Max stroked his fingers through Renata’s hair, glancing at the dying embers of the fire as a cold morning sun breached the windows. It had snowed during the night, and only a sliver of daylight remained visible on the first floor. He’d have to get up and stoke the fire, but not until she woke. Renata lay against him, her body a warm and welcome weight against his chest. His arm was numb and he didn’t care. She was sleeping in his arms, which meant he could stare at her. He hadn’t had the privilege in nearly three years.
Renata let out a sigh as her eyes fluttered open.
“Good morning,” he whispered.
She frowned for a second before she closed her eyes again and rolled to face the fire.
“It wasn’t a dream,” she muttered.
“Were you hoping it was?” Max asked. “I have to tell you, in my dreams, we’re usually wearing less clothes.”
“You need to leave today.”
