“But, Garrett—”
I stop her with a finger to her lips. “We will talk about his later, Lola, I promise. But right now, the woman I love has just told me that she loves me. I’d like to spend a few minutes celebrating that instead of talking about my father. Is that too much to bloody ask?”
She shakes her head, eyes wide and body trembling. Then she wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me down for a kiss that goes on and on and on.
I give myself up to the kiss, to her. She feels so good, tastes so good, and I love her so much. I concentrate on that, on Lola, and do my best to ignore the part of my heart that is all about country, all about duty, as it shatters—once and for all—into a thousand irreparable pieces.
Chapter 30
Lola
I don’t know what to do.
I don’t know what to do.
I. Don’t. Know. What. To. Do.
The whole world has shifted on its axis and I don’t have a clue what I’m supposed to do now. Don’t have a clue what I’m supposed to feel or think or do.
Garrett can’t just give up the throne. He just can’t, no matter what he says. It’s as much a part of him as his blue eyes and his dark hair. Maybe even more of a part.
He’s stretched out beside me, sound asleep, but he looks tense even now. Like he’s preparing to do battle with his father again, or one of the many demons that haunt him day and night. How much more is he supposed to take without breaking? How much more is he supposed to suffer?
I hate that he has to go through this. Hate even more that the one person who is supposed to love him unconditionally, who is supposed to accept him no matter what, is the one most responsible for his pain.
What kind of a father does this to his child? Who blames his child for his abduction and subsequent torture at the hands of his father’s enemies? Who lords it over him, giving him ultimatum after ultimatum if he wants a chance at what is already rightfully his?
It’s Machiavellian. Diabolical. Evil.
Honestly, it’s amazing Garrett and Kian turned out as well as they did growing up with a father like this.
Garrett groans in his sleep, throws up a hand to ward off God only knows what. I reach out to stroke my hand down his back as I whisper to him that he’s okay. That everything is going to be all right.
He relaxes almost instantly and my heart breaks for him all over again. I want nothing more than to wrap myself around him. To hold on as tightly as I can. Because I do love him, more than I ever thought I’d love anyone. But that love doesn’t make me blind, and it sure as hell doesn’t make me forget how we got to this exact moment in time. Any more than it makes me forget that Garrett has wounds I’ll never be able to heal.
He was, quite literally, born to be King of Wildemar. It’s in his blood, in his lineage, but more than that, it’s in his soul. That his father has wielded it like a weapon against him all these months doesn’t change the fact that the throne—the crown—belongs
to Garrett. It always has and it always will.
Who am I to get in the way of that?
Listening to him talk to his father made me realize just how much he’s sacrificed to be king. It certainly cast a whole new light on his relationship with Savvy and why he’s made the choices he has in his life. It’s all been for Wildemar. All of it.
Even now, when he’s planning on staying behind the scenes to help Kian be the best prince—and then best king—that he can be.
He’s sacrificed everything to be king. He kept whole parts of himself—and his relationships—a secret. He spent his life thinking of the country’s best interests instead of his own. He endured months of torture without spilling so much as one state secret, even though it nearly cost him his sanity.
How can he even think about walking away from the throne?
And how can I even consider letting him?
He made it sound like it was a done deal when he got off the phone with his father earlier, but how can it be? The King may be a personal tyrant, but he’s savvy as fuck when it comes to his country. He has to know better than anyone just how good a choice Garrett is for Wildemar, and I have to believe he’ll eventually tire of whatever sick game he’s playing with his sons and do the right thing.
But that can only happen if Garrett doesn’t take himself out of the running for king. And that will only happen if I’m not around for him to hang his rebellion on.
Oh, I believe he loves me. It’s hard not to believe it when he holds me and touches me and takes care of me as tenderly as he does. But I’m smart enough to know he’s using me, too, even if he doesn’t mean to. Even if he doesn’t know he’s doing it. Losing the throne is a throbbing, aching wound, one he’s using the excitement of new love and incredible sex to stanch.
But that will last only so long before the wound starts to fester. Because, even though he loves me, he loves his country more. How can he not? And if I let him do this, if I let him use his feelings for me as a reason to give up the throne, eventually it will destroy our relationship. More than that, it will destroy him.