The Keep (The Watchers 4)

“What are you doing?”

With an innocent smile, I joked, “Don’t you mean, what am I thinking?”

But this time, he didn’t so much as crack a smile.

“Fine,” I said. “I know I’m treading on dangerous ground—”

“Deadly ground. ”

“Okay, I’m treading on some badass ground. But I need to do this, Ronan. I’ve got nothing to lose. ”

“I do,” he said, his voice tight.

He shifted, angling his body toward me, and I automatically shifted to face him. I was ready for battle, expecting to face off with Ronan’s anger, but what I saw instead floored me. His face was mere inches from mine, wrenched with worry and something else…something that looked like longing.

“Don’t do this,” he said. “I cannot lose you. I’ve lost too much already. ”

I tried to swallow, but it was like I’d forgotten how to operate my throat. He was saying that he didn’t want to lose another friend—right? Because it wasn’t like we had a thing. He knew about Carden. Ronan and I were just buddies. And even if there were no Carden, why would a guy like him ever be interested in me? No, surely I wasn’t sensing what I thought I was sensing. He’d told me once how I reminded him of his dead sister, and there was nothing less romantic than that. He had brotherly feelings for me; that was all.

Right?

I had to look away and glanced down instead, which unfortunately had me staring at his hands, fisted on his crossed legs, clenched tightly enough that I could make out the ropes of tendons and veins in the moonlight. I looked at those hands and remembered his touch as he’d so gently wrapped my injured wrist.

Gently and without his powers.

He could’ve used his powers now. I was sure I had no idea at the extent of them—he probably would’ve been able to grab me and just hypnotize me into doing his will. But he wasn’t. His hands were clenched on his lap, so close, and yet a million miles from me.

My eyes shot back up. I was suddenly desperate to understand him…understand this. “Why do you care? And don’t say you don’t,” I quickly added. “You once told me I reminded you of your sister, so I know you have some feelings. ”

“I have an interest in your well-being…”

“But?” There was always a but.

He had brotherly feelings for me, but…it became more? Or But now I’ve decided I hate you? But

now you’ve got your own vampire?

But what?

He looked to the water, shutting me out. “Feelings are a luxury I cannot afford. ”

I wished I’d learned that lesson before I let myself be gutted by Carden.

And yet this confession was hard to believe. I took in the sight of him. The scruffy black hair—I could tell he’d surfed that morning from the way it was pointing every which way—and the shadow of razor stubble on his jaw. All that darkness and shadow and it only made his green eyes more haunted.

“Never? You’ve never allowed yourself feelings?”

His head swung back to me. “Of course I have feelings. And I must guard them. ”

I let the truth of his words sink in. Ronan tried not to let himself have feelings. Did that mean he’d never been with a girl? “Do you mean you’re afraid of being with someone?”

His expression hardened. “I’m afraid of what being with someone would do to her. The risks it would expose her to. You should know this lesson better than anyone. ” The words struck me like an accusation, a reminder of how Emma’s death had been orchestrated as a punishment for me.

Such a serious statement, and yet I couldn’t get clear of the speculation currently clouding my brain, because really, was he saying he’d never been with anyone? How could that be possible? Ronan, never touching a girl? Surely in all his time roaming the world, he’d hooked up with someone.

In a normal world, he’d have been knee-deep in girlfriends…but this wasn’t a normal world. It was one where hooking up could—and often did—mean death. I thought of Amanda and Judge and how they’d died trying to be together. Ronan would never choose to be responsible for that.

I let myself look, really look, in his eyes. At the moment, he seemed so…tormented. Like, he had so many wants and no way to let any of them out. “Ronan, what kind of life is it where you’re afraid to touch another person?”