Page 142 of Lover Forbidden
“Yeah. Good as new.”
“That’s great.”
“Yeah.”
L.W. looked out to the Range Rover. “I, ah, I just wanted to thank you for helping me the other night—”
“That is not necessary.” Now she looked at him. “Sabrina is the one you need to save the gratitude for. Do you want me to go get her? It’s no trouble—”
“I’m here to see you.”
“Well, she’d be thrilled to get a visit from the heir to the throne.” She put her hand up to stop him from talking. “And I really think it’s better if you lay your thanks at the foot of someone else.”
“I’m sorry. Bitty. For what I did.”
Her brow arched. “Why are you apologizing exactly.”
“I hurt you. And I’m sorry—”
“You saved me from having a sore wrist. I should be thanking you.” When he shook his head and cursed, she said, “Oh, listen, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Lyric and Rhamp’sgranmahmendied about ten minutes ago. Did you get the text?”
No, because he’d only been thinking about getting here.
He cursed under his breath. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Standing in that snow, you’re just sorry about all kinds of things, aren’t you. Bummer. Well, I hope your night gets better.”
As she turned away, he said, “You’re right about me being angry. And how dangerous it is. I just don’t want you to get rolled into… all my shit.”
He kept quiet about what he and his boys were up to—and the fact that he had to was a reminder of how he was doing the proper thing with her. Even if it fuckingsucked.
Bitty pivoted back around, and it was funny. He hadn’t realized exactly how warmly she’d looked at him until now… when all that was gone.
“You don’t owe me any explanations.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “We almost kissed—once. I’m very sure you’ve done much more than that with a lot of females, so I’m not confused about where I stand with you—or rather, if I once was, you cleared that up. For this, I’m grateful. I really think clarity is good in life, don’t you?”
The hardness in her was something he’d never seen before, and he blamed himself for changing her.
Yet another reason this was the right thing to do.
“Goodbye, Bitty.”
She stared at him for a moment. Then she bowed to him. “Goodbye, Your Highness.”
Out in the city park by the Hudson, Whestmorel dragged himself through the snow in a lurching walk. The lifting of his feet and the shifting of his weight made his heart pound from effort, and the pain in his chest flared and receded with each slow step.
From time to time, he glanced around with trepidation.
He hadn’t thought to bring a weapon. And in any event, he wasn’t trained in them.
He wielded pens, not swords.
Yet no slayers set upon him. It was quite curious, actually. With the evil having repudiated him, one would think Lash would have eliminated that which had been rejected, either there on the spot while they’d met or the now, by sending slayers forth.
Yet he remained alone in the field.
The extent of his isolation seemed rather relative, given that there were cars on the Northway, and people living all around the downtown, but as he considered his circumstances, he felt as though he was in Antarctica. If only he could dematerialize, but his heart was not functioning right—
Up ahead, a car pulled over to the shoulder of the four-lane road that ran past the park’s outer rim. As a figure stood up from behindthe wheel—and waved—Whestmorel exhaled with a relief that he was going to need to keep to himself.
