The sex between us had been wild and real. I’d wanted him as much as he’d wanted me. I’d been prepared to give him everything, but then his mind had gone and ruined what could’ve been. Again.
I pushed my empty bowl away and smiled up at him, weary from physical labor but also drained from emotional trauma. “You’re welcome.” It took so much control not to grab his wrists and force him to stay with me. To tell him how I felt, what I would do for him, that he only had to drop his guard and we could be together.
But I held my tongue because as much as I didn’t want to admit it, having him switch from kissing me with passion, thrusting into me with need, to a man who didn’t see me, hear me, feel me, had reminded me that for all my daydreaming of domestication and futures, he was still unsafe.
I still risked my life living with him.
I still hadn’t freed him from his past.
Inhaling heavily, he’d looked around the room as if something would give him whatever answers he was looking for. Goosebumps had spread down my back, wondering if he’d been thinking of us just as I had. Had he come to the conclusion that I was trustworthy? That I was strong enough? Was he ready to talk to me? Could we possibly spend the evening together like any other couple, cuddled by a fire, enjoying each other’s company, before slipping into bed together?
Even as such fantasies filled my head, his gaze landed on mine and shot them dead. He flinched, unable to hide the anguish inside him, the confliction, the toppling mess of his psyche. “You’re...you’re no longer chained to me.”
I glanced down at the chain I’d wrapped around my ankle, a link-snake that formed a chunky anklet. My head tipped up as I glanced at his waist where I knew the other half of our broken chain remained locked around him, the small length tucked in his back pocket. “No, I’m not.”
He stiffened. “Will you leave? Tonight?”
My back straightened into steel. “You honestly have to ask that question?”
He shrugged, dropping his stare again. His usual guarded personality had dimmed. I didn’t know if it was from the firewood chores draining him of whatever health he’d regained or if whatever had happened between us in the gardens was worse than I realized. Either way, he was...subdued.
Quiet.
It made me afraid.
Standing, I reached for him. “Kas...please. Talk to me. What’s going on?”
He stepped out of my reach. “You should leave. While the weather still holds.”
I reared back, pain slapping into my heart as real as if his palm had just struck my cheek. “It wasn’t the chain keeping me here. We both know that. I thought we’d both realized I stopped looking for a way to get free a while ago.”
He sniffed, his scruff soaking up the meager light, his shadowed eyes darker and complex. “All the same, if you leave in the night, I’ll-I’ll understand.” He cleared his throat. “Whatever promises you made me, consider them broken.”
“Are you talking about the promise I made to help you prepare for winter or the one where I promised to remember what you forget?”
His nostrils flared as he backed toward the door. “Both. You’re released from both.”
My hands balled into fists. “And if I don’t want to be released? If I want to stay here and help you? If I’m prepared to stay during the winter? If I’m ready to jot down everything that we do and keep a diary on every interaction we share, what then?”
“Then I’d say you sound as if you need a new hobby. You should go home. Back to the family you keep saying is missing you.”
It took a few seconds to get my temper under control. I inhaled and exhaled, schooling my tone into something that wouldn’t end in a fight. “I made the choice to stay, Kas. In the bath, I told you I chose you over my brother.”
His eyes flared, followed by a bolt of hunger and pure concentrated need.
My body reacted to his.
The air positively sparked as if candles sprung to life between us.
But then he shut it all down again.
He shook his head as if he couldn’t bear the thought that I’d put him first. As if he wasn’t used to such a thing. As if he felt guilty that he’d become so, so important to me.
“Don’t,” he whispered, taking another step toward the door. “Don’t put me first.”
I followed him. “Why? Why shouldn’t I? I promised you I’d help you get better.”
His hand struck up, barring me from chasing any further. “I’ve changed my mind.” His face twisted as if he swallowed something painful, as if his heart had forgotten how to beat. Rubbing his chest, he growled, “I think it’s best if you go. I don’t need your help anymore.”