FIA
"You will probably not believe me," I said, meeting his eyes. "But I will be honest."
He waited, his expression neatly unreadable in the candlelight.
"There is no point protecting people who threw me to the wolves." The words tasted bitter on my tongue. "I read the letters because Hazel did not. I was just being a good sister."
"Really?" His voice was flat, skeptical. "And it has nothing to do with the fact that you have been plotting to have me from the very beginning?"
I scoffed, pushing my chair back. The legs scraped against the stone floor. I moved to walk past him, done with this conversation, done with his constant suspicion.
"I was joking."
I stopped, turned and shot him a look that could have frozen water. "Jokes are supposed to be funny."
His frown deepened. "I guess what I am saying is... I believe you."
My heart stuttered. No. It skipped an entire beat before resuming its rhythm. I swallowed hard, trying to keep my face neutral. "Why?"
"I dug into Milo." He said it like he was discussing the weather, not information that could shift everything between us. "You were right. He was killed after being accused and prosecuted for sexual assault against your sister very early this morning." A pause followed. "With how your sister seemed fine... Perhaps there is something fishy about her after all."
I could not believe what I was hearing. Cian, the man who had been so certain of my guilt, so convinced I was nothing but a scheming liar, was actually starting to see reason. My pulse quickened.
"So what happens now?" I asked carefully.
"What is supposed to happen now?"
"This means I am not guilty. It means—"
He raised a finger, cutting me off. The gesture was sharp, final. "I am merely questioning things." His tone shifted back to that controlled, measured cadence he wore like a shield. "Like I said before, you still willingly participated in deceit."
My jaw tightened.
"Since you read my letters," he continued, "and you have been here for over two days now, you should know me."
"Yeah," I said, the word coming out as harsh as I intended it to. "A stubborn, arrogant prick."
He laughed. Actually laughed. The sound was brief, surprised, like it had escaped before he could stop it. He cleared his throat immediately, his face snapping back to that stoic mask he always wore. But I had seen it. That flash of genuine amusement, that crack in his carefully maintained armor.
It was the first time I had seen him show anything close to positive emotion. And I hated that I found it cute.
Goddess, I hated the warmth that spread through my chest at the sound of his laughter, the way my stupid heart did that annoying flutter thing again.
I made a mental note to wash those wicked thoughts out of me in a much needed shower. Preferably a cold one.
"Thank you," he said after a moment, his voice returning to its usual steadiness. "For pacifying my mother."
I blinked. "What?"
"I did not have high hopes for you, but you did deliver." He hesitated, like the next words cost him something. "It is a surprise she likes you. Despite what she knows about you."
The compliment felt backhanded, wrapped in layers of his usual distrust. But it was something. More than he had given me before.
He shifted his weight, glancing toward the archway where Morrigan had disappeared. "I also want to put whatever fear remains in her out of sight. So..."
"So what?" I prompted when he trailed off.
"You will spend the night with me."
My face went hot. Burning. I felt the heat spread from my cheeks down my neck. "What?"
"It is absolutely not what you think it is." He said it quickly, holding up a hand like he could physically stop my thoughts. "Nothing will be happening. We will just be in the same vicinity. And when those gossiping Omegas see us together and their thoughts go to strange places, my mother will be satisfied. For now, at least."
I stared at him and tried to process what he was actually saying beneath all that careful phrasing. My mind caught on something, a thread I could not quite let go.
"When you were going to force me to sign that slave contract," I said slowly, watching his face, "you wanted me to have your babies. In a clinical and forceful manner." I saw his jaw tighten. "But at dinner, and even now, you seem repulsed by the idea of children."
Understanding flickered across his features. Just for a second. But it was enough. He knew I had clocked what he had tried to do.
I scoffed. "You wanted me to reject that sick thought so it would look like it was my idea and not your own."
His eyes widened fractionally. A tell he could not quite hide.
My own eyes went wide as the full realization hit me. "Goddess, you do not want—"
He moved fast.
He closed the distance between us in two strides, his hand finding my mouth before I could speak. His palm was warm, steady, the weight of it silencing me more than the touch itself.
We stood inches apart. Too close. The scent of cedar clung to him, mixed with something darker, something I couldn’t name but felt deep in my chest. Heat rolled off his body, brushing against my skin like a warning. My head tipped back to meet his gaze, and the world seemed to shrink until there was only him.
His eyes caught mine—dark, sharp, alive with something that felt like danger and desire tangled together. My heart stumbled.
"I did not realize it before but I see it now," he said, his voice low, rough, threaded with amusement that didn’t reach his eyes. "You talk too much."
I could feel each of his fingers against my face. The slight calluses on his palm. The way his thumb rested just below my cheekbone. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure he could feel it through the thin space between us.
I wanted to pull away. It would have been smart to pull away. But I could not move.
His gaze lowered to where his hand still covered my mouth. For a moment, his expression shifted—something uncertain flickered there, something almost human. Then it vanished, hidden behind the familiar steel of his composure.
Slowly, he dropped his hand. The warmth of his touch lingered on my skin even after it was gone. He stepped back, clearing his throat, his voice rougher than before.
"I apologize," he said, eyes steady on mine though his jaw was tight. "That was... out of line."