Page 126 of Bitten & Burned
I took a step back, shaking my head. “No,” I said quietly. “No, we don’t have to talk about it. Not now. Not ever.”
He reached for me, but I was already retreating. “Rowena, please. We can talk about something else? Like we used to? I just can’t talk about this with you now.”
If he’d reached for me before, if he’d made me feel like he wanted me there… but he wanted it like it was before? What?
But he hadn’t reached for me before. I had no fucking clue what went on inside his head. Maybe I never had.
I turned and walked.
I heard him call my name behind me, but I didn’t stop. I blinked back tears and kept going, my body on autopilot.
I ended up in the kitchen.
Anton was rolling out dough on the counter, whistling a little tune. He looked up when I entered and smiled.
The bond shifted the moment I saw him—low, warm, steady. A reminder: he was the one who always noticed.
“Hello, darling… is something wrong?”
He sensed it instantly.
I didn’t mean to dump it all on him, but the words just tumbled out—what Quil had said, what Vael had said, what he hadn’t said. What I said. I poured it out like water through a cracked glass—uncontrollable, spilling everywhere.
Anton set the rolling pin down, his expression softening. “Oh, darling…” he murmured, opening his arms.
I stepped into them. His embrace was warm. He smelled like burnt sugar and lemon zest—safety. Calm.
He stroked my back. I didn’t cry, but I let my head rest against his shoulder.
If he’d said nothing at all, it might have been perfect.
But things rarely ever were.
“Quil and Vael…” he murmured, brushing his lips to my hair. “They can be… awfully themselves, can’t they?”
“Why couldn’t they just… say literally anything else?” I asked. “Vael’s gift is literally words. He could have said anything. But he didn’t. And Quil… why would I want to hear that he hates that he loves me? What kind of… justwhat?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “That’s just how they are. No changing them. Would you like to help me roll out this dough? I was thinking of doing something savory, what do you think?”
No judgment. No anger. Just Anton being… Anton.
But it wasn’t what I needed.
I didn’t want a neutral haven. I wanted someone to burn with me. Or at least distract me.Something.
Anton wasn’t that currently.
Maybe later, when my anger had cooled, he would be.
“I’m not hungry… I need to lie down. Maybe later?”
I didn’t pull away sharply—that would’ve hurt him. I just waited until it felt natural to let go.
Then I slipped away. Quietly. I only hoped he didn’t feel the void trailing after me.
My footsteps echoed down the hall.
I didn’t know where I was going—until I found myself at the war room.
