Yumi
@clementinery
Deep down, I’d known how this would end all along. I’d sensed it from the moment we’d first met, from the time I’d first glimpsed the Balisarda in his bandolier—two star-crossed lovers brought together by fate or providence. By life and by death. By gods, or perhaps monsters.
We would end with a stake and a match.
Reklam
One clear, tangible solution. If I were honest with myself, I should’ve done it already. I should’ve done it as soon as I saw my face on that wanted poster. It should’ve been easy.
The right thing rarely was.
“But I don’t even know what happiness looks like.”
“Of course you do—”
“What I know,” she continued determinedly, speaking over me, “is that it isn’t Beau’s job to show me. It isn’t anyone’s job but mine. If I can’t make myself happy, how can he? How can my mother or my aunt or my kin?”
“Here’s your first lesson in seduction: honesty is sexy as hell. No, not like you’re thinking,” she added when I scoffed again. “Honesty goes beyond telling him who you used to be, who he used to be, who you used to be together. You’ve tried that, and it hasn’t worked. You need to show him. Allow yourself to be vulnerable, so he can be vulnerable too. That kind of honesty—that kind of honesty is intimate. It’s raw.”
Jittery energy coursed through me as I accepted my stew, and I inhaled it greedily—standing over the basin like a rat—to stop from filling the dead air between us. If this was the inner sanctum of masculinity, I wanted no part of it.
My eyes slid to Reid.
Well. I wanted little part of it.
Reklam