Page 106 of Taken By the Vicious Highlander
Ariah.
Her chest tightened. Her ribs ached. The weight of the truth was crushing her so ruthlessly that she almost told him.
But then Damon turned away, letting her hand fall to her side with an audible smack against her skirt. “I’ve been thinkin’ about sendin’ ye away, lass.”
The words were like ice down her spine, crashing over her like cold water, knocking the air out of her lungs.
She went rigid, her lips barely able to move. “What?”
Damon continued moving as though he hadn’t just shattered her, as though the conversation had already shifted, and her presence here—her standing right before him—was nothing more than a temporary inconvenience.
“I’ve been considerin’ it for a while,” he said absently, running his hand over his jaw. His voice had lost its usual sharpness, replaced with something more distant and detached. “Just for a while. To stay with me braither and yer sister. Until I sort things out.”
Just for a while.
Like she was a problem he needed to put away until he could handle it in his own time.
Like she was in the way.
He wasn’t thinking about how this would sound to her. He wasn’t thinking about her at all.
He was just talking. Careless and thoughtless, as if she were furniture he could move.
Her heart pounded against her ribs as tears pricked her eyes painfully and bile rose in her throat, but she forced herself to speak. “Why?”
He sighed, rubbing his temples in distant contemplation. Still not looking at her, still talking as though this was some simple, logical decision. Nothing personal, nothing painful.
“Because stability is important,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. “And if they have a problem with me, I’d rather ye nae be here for it. The attacks will continue.”
A lump formed in her throat.
“As long as I dinnae ken what’s comin’, I cannae risk it.”
She watched him move, watched the way his mind churned—calculating, planning. He was so focused on the weight of his title, on the enemies he couldn’t yet see, that he didn’t even notice her right in front of him.
“Just in case,” he added, almost as an afterthought.
Lilith’s nails bit into her palms so hard that she nearly drew blood, and her broken hand screamed painfully, making her hair stand on end. “Ye want me gone.”
The realization lodged itself deep inside her, cold and cruel.
Damon hesitated, his dark eyes meeting hers. “I want ye safe.”
She had known. Had felt the distance he put between them. But to hear him say it so easily, as though it didn’t matter…
She swallowed past the rock-hard lump in her throat as he started pacing again.
“It’s me duty to protect ye. I vowed it. How else can I keep ye safe? I cannae keep ye safe here—it’s the only way.”
Lilith blinked away the tears edging their way past her eyelashes. She wanted to rage, scream, anything to force him to look her in the eye, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t move, could barely breathe, and then, as if he hadn’t already ripped her to pieces, he murmured, “Ye’re distractin’ me—even tonight, with the attack.”
Her whole body froze.
Damon’s voice was low, absent-minded, as if he hadn’t meant for the words to come out. As if her were just thinking out loud, laying out his options, weighing the cost.
And I am the cost.
Something inside her cracked.
