Richelle Mead - The Immortal Crown

She sat up with him, her hair tousled and cheeks flushed. That almost broke him, almost brought him back to the bliss of her arms and her lips and the rest of her body. And then those words resounded in his mind once more: When you take her to your bed and claim her, you will swear your loyalty to me. He clasped her hands in his, fearful even of the temptation of that small touch, and met her gaze squarely. “Listen to me. You’re right— what I said, the second date nonsense and all that—were lies. Lies born out of both fear of any kind of real human connection and fear of . . . well, some other things I’ll try to get to. But here’s the truth. There’s no one else for me but you. I knew it in Panama, when I looked at you and the whole world stopped, but I was too foolish to acknowledge it then. I don’t think I really, truly accepted it until we were in Arcadia, when I had to come to terms with the possibility of never seeing you again. All those other flings I’ve had are just ashes in the wind, shattered and forgotten. But you . . . you’re the real thing. The fire that keeps burning in my life. You’re the one. There’s no one else I feel this connected to. And if I could do all those things, stay with you, make love—with the lights on—tell you everything that weighs on me, I would. Believe me, Mae, I would. But—”

“Justin—” She reached for his face, but he pushed her hand away. “No, listen. As much as I want to—and believe me, I do—there are still forces at work bigger than both of us that don’t necessarily have our best interests at heart. You said when you were out there you saw things that made you believe in the goodness of the gods . . . well, I’m still not sure. And I can’t explain it, but if you and I are together, if we cross that physical line again, there will be consequences neither of us can change.”

“So, what, then? No physical line?” she asked. “Is that what you need?”

For a moment, he considered it. Was it possible . . . a non-physical romance? Neither of them had a history that suggested they’d be able to pull that off. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t happy in just her presence. He was, and he didn’t want to lose that . . . but he didn’t trust himself— or her, for that matter. They’d slip one day, unable to resist, and he’d end up back in her arms and Odin’s service.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so, at least not until I know more,” he said at last.

Mae was quiet for several moments. “How can you say these things to me? How can you tell me you want me, that I’m the only one . . . but that we can’t be together?”

“I can only imagine how it sounds,” he admitted.

“No,” she said. “I don’t think you can. What else is there? What else aren’t you telling me?”

That you were the woman a god picked out for me, and binding myself to you binds me to him.

He could’ve spoken those words, and maybe she would’ve understood. Except, the thing was, Justin was afraid she wouldn’t understand, that she would tell him service to a god was worth the price of their happiness. And looking at her now, at that lovely face and eyes filled with affection, Justin wondered if he might end up agreeing with her.

“I can’t tell you yet,” he said, releasing her hands. “I would if I could. If we could be together, if there were an easy way, I swear it, Mae—I would. But I can’t right now. I’m sorry.”

“Justin—” The hurt in her voice made his heart ache, but whatever else she might have said was cut off when he heard a sound at the door.

It was mostly closed, but someone pushed it open now, and he heard Rufus say, “Praetorian Koskinen? Are you—oh.” The man appeared in the doorway, immediately assessed what was happening and took a step back. “I’m sorry. I—”

“No.” Mae stood up from the bed and ran a hasty hand over her eyes. “It’s okay. I was just leaving. Is something wrong?”

Rufus still looked deeply flustered. “No, ma’am. I just wanted to say goodbye. I don’t know if Dr. March told you, but I’m leaving, and this is my last night.”

“No,” said Mae stiffly. “He’s told me a lot of things tonight—but not that. Come on, I’ll walk you out. He needs to finish getting ready anyway.”

Justin thought she’d leave without another glance, but she paused in the doorway and looked back, her heart in her eyes. One word, Justin thought. One word, and she’ll come back to me.

But he didn’t say it, and Mae gave a nod of farewell. “Have fun tonight.”

And then she was gone.

Lights Off

Mae held it together as she thanked Rufus for his service and urged him to get back in touch, should his circumstances change. She even held it together when the March family told her goodbye, resulting in hugs from Cynthia, Tessa, and Quentin and stories of how they’d worried for her as much as Justin on the trip. It wasn’t until she was on the train, headed back downtown, that Mae started to lose it.

Unacceptable, she told herself, forcing back tears. I am a soldier. I’ve fought for my country and risked my life countless times. I won’t break down now like some adolescent just because a boy told me “no.”

Except, Justin hadn’t exactly told her no. That was what had hurt the most. How did someone do that? How could he say that she was the one, that he’d never had that kind of connection with another woman . . . and then turn away? Mae had had men shower her in gushing words for her entire life, praising her beauty and going overboard with all the grandiose things they’d do for her to prove their love. No one had ever put it so simply: There’s no one else for me but you . And those simple words had struck her with more power than any other elaborate declaration could have—which is why it had hurt so much. She almost wished he’d lied to her again. Almost.

“Praetorian Koskinen?”

A voice called to her in the crowded station as she stepped off the purple line, and it took her a moment to orient herself and find the speaker. When she did, it was no one she’d expected—or really wanted—to see.

“Mr. Devereaux,” she said formally, as Geraki approached her. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“You don’t look like you mean that,” he said. “Forgive me, but you don’t look like you’re happy to see anyone just now.”

“It’s been a complicated night,” she said bitterly, nearly laughing at her own understatement.

“Is there any way I may be of assistance?” he asked, in a genteel way that contrasted with the religious zealot persona she associated with him.

“I don’t think anyone can help, but thanks. I need to get home.”

He caught her arm, and she almost welcomed the rush of endorphins brought on by a potential threat. The look in his eyes, however, suggested no fight, just more unsolicited advice.

“That’s not true,” he told her. “The part about no one being able to help you, that is. Sometimes it may seem that way on earth, in human affairs, but there are higher powers able to strengthen and sustain us.”

This time, she did laugh, surprised she’d find amusement in something so absurd. “Are you trying to convert me in the middle of a subway station?”

“No need,” he said gravely. “From what I hear, you’ve already taken up quite nicely with a goddess.”

“How do you—” A startling, impossible thought hit her. “You . . . you sent me the amber knife.”

He sketched her a bow. “I’d say ‘guilty as charged,’ but I have nothing to feel guilty about. The Lady wanted to connect to you, and I simply helped make it possible.”

Mae was stunned. She’d meant what she’d told Justin, that her experience in the wilderness had been life-changing. The goddess had held true to her word, delivering and protecting Mae, and that sense of communion and life had been glorious. Mae wasn’t entirely certain how to feel about that now. She’d just been thinking that there might truly be something to serving a goddess like that . . . but now, that image was tainted knowing Geraki was involved.