In many ways, he was only along for the ride. Where they went was up to her. And what they did there was in her hands. In fact, once all the past was revealed to her—something he both anticipated and dreaded in equal measure—their fate was hers to decide.
But how long had he left her with no agency in her own path? How many times had he raised her from her slumber of death only to demand she follow his lead in all things?
Every. Single. Time.
Only now that he surrendered himself to her judgement did he seem to be making any kind of improvement. If I had only known, I would have done this much sooner.
But that was a lie, and he knew it.
It was only because he had no other path forward that he had taken this course of action. And what a fool he was for not having learned his lesson earlier.
“Yeah,” Maggie finally answered after slipping her phone back into her pocket. “I…” She shook her head, clearly not knowing how to phrase her thoughts.
“I understand.” He smiled reassuringly. “I truly do.” Harry had already gone to sleep in one of the small bunks at the back of the plane, complaining about having had to do so much running. Honestly, he was glad for the privacy with Marguerite.
After looking out the window for a long time, she stood from her chair and crossed over to him. He watched her, unsure of what she was doing. When she climbed onto his lap, sitting sideways so her legs draped over the arm of the chair and nuzzled into him, he found himself once more stunned by her actions.
She tucked her head against his shoulder, her forehead against his neck. After a long pause, she laughed once. “Hug me, dumbass.”
Wrapping his arms around her, he did as he was told. “Of course, princess.”
“Are we okay?”
“I believe I am supposed to ask you that question.”
“Probably. But you just keep looking at me like you’re the one who threw up this afternoon.”
“Would you rather I not feel guilty for what I’ve done?”
“No. Not saying that. But—I don’t know.” She sighed. “It’s hard to explain. Maybe it’s the bramble talking. Those drinks are good.”
He chuckled. “Take your time.”
Silence reigned for several minutes as she gathered her thoughts. He wouldn’t complain. How many centuries had he wished for this exact moment to occur? To hold her in his arms and comfort her, because she wished him to? It still felt impossible, like a dream. As though if he turned his head too sharply, the illusion would shatter, and he would be alone once more.
But she was there. Seeking his affection. And he would give her whatever she asked for.
Finally, she spoke. “This feels right. And I know it shouldn’t, but it does.”
“Hm.”
“I know you’re not—you’re not a good man. I know that. Everything you’ve done to me aside, you kill people and use them as pawns to do your supernatural mafia bullshit.”
That made him laugh. “I’m a mobster now, am I?”
“Basically.”
He went to argue, and then discovered he couldn’t. “I will concede that point for now.”
“But when I’m near you, I feel—I don’t know. Whole, somehow. And that scares me.”
“Do you know why it frightens you?” He wished to see her face as they spoke, but he knew she needed the anonymity to get the words out. So he tightened his grasp around her, hoping that it was reassuring, and did his best to provide her what strength he could.
“Are you playing my shrink again?” She sounded amused. Tired, but amused.
“No. Well, perhaps a little. I am a doctor. I can’t help it sometimes.”
“It scares me because…I think some part of me—somewhere deep down inside, in the fiber of my being, I know what happened. I know what happened. And when I’m near you, I want to throw it all away.” She paused. “I want to forgive you, Gideon. And that feels like I’m jumping off the castle walls all over again. Like it’s a mistake, and a terrible thing, and it scares me.”