“You were sent here to find and kill me,” I reminded him.
His jaw hardened. “Fuck that. Fuck why I came here. I would never lay a damn finger on you that you didn’t want there.”
“You can’t feel this way,” I protested, backing up. “Remember what happened to Noah? He was your best friend and you had—”
“I remember what I had to do, and now I know I did the wrong damn thing,” he said. “But this has nothing to do with Noah.”
“You can’t go through that again,” I told him.
“I don’t plan to. And I don’t care what you are. Trust me, when I was taken—when you were taken—I got real one on one with the way I felt about you. Those weeks you were there and I couldn’t get to you? Yeah, I figured out real fucking fast what I cared about and what I didn’t,” he told me, his eyes flashing a deep forest green. “I love you, Ivy. You aren’t going to talk me out of that.”
“But you . . .” He didn’t know all the things I’d done. He had no idea. I dragged my hand down my face again. “He—the prince—he made me do things, Ren. I don’t think you would feel the same way if you knew.”
He closed his eyes for a moment and then reopened them. “I can’t imagine what he made you do, but I want to know everything—everything you’re comfortable sharing with me, whenever you want. But I’m telling you right now, it’s not going to change the way I feel about you. It’s only going to make me want to kill him even more.”
My stomach dipped. It wasn’t unpleasant, but my thoughts were. “You don’t know that, Ren. You don’t.”
“I do.” His voice was hard. “I love you. That’s not going to change. I love—”
“He made me feed on people!” I shouted.
Ren drew up short, his face paling.
“You see? You can’t love someone who did that. You can’t be with me, knowing what I am, knowing what I’ve done!” Tears burned my throat and eyes. “I hurt a woman. I know I did. I might’ve—oh God, I might’ve even killed her. I don’t know. I didn’t even know I could do that, but I did. I did it, and I hurt her and she tried to make me stop, and I couldn’t. And I could do it to you.”
Something flickered over his face, an emotion that was damn near feral. “You would never do that to me.”
I fisted the side of my robe. “You don’t know that.”
“Did you feed of your own free will or did he manipulate you into doing it?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes!” he shouted. “That fucking matters, Ivy.”
Looking away, I bit down on my lip. “He forced me.”
“Son of a bitch!” he exploded again, and I turned to him. His hands were in fists at his sides. “He forced you to feed. He fucked your head up. That’s totally understandable, but he forced you, Ivy. You didn’t have a choice, and the Ivy I know, the Ivy I first found sexy as hell every time she told me off, and the Ivy I grew to respect and fucking admire—the Ivy I fell head over fucking ass in love with would never do that without being forced. So don’t put that on you. Don’t wear that kind of guilt.”
I opened my mouth, but he . . . he was right. God, Ren was right. I knew who I was. That Ivy was still inside me—under the coldness and the darkness, she was still there. I would’ve never fed on anyone if I had a choice, but I hadn’t had one. This was different now, though. Before, I hadn’t known I could feed, but I could, and it was horrifically simple. All I had to do was want it and inhale.
Fear formed in my stomach, settling like a heavy knot, and I let go of my robe. “But what if I hurt you?” I whispered. Tears blurred my vision. “I could never live with myself. That would be it. That’s my breaking point.”
Ren was wicked fast.
Clasping my cheeks, he lowered his mouth to mine and kissed me with not a moment of hesitation or doubt. He wasn’t careful, and there was no fear in his kiss. His mouth parted mine, and it was hungry and desperate, raw and tortured, and full of a thousand other emotions, but most importantly, it was full of love. Then I was kissing him back, my fingers grabbing the front of his shirt. One of his hands left my cheek and fisted my hair. And I knew this wasn’t going to turn into something twisted. I didn’t want that from him. I didn’t want that from anyone.
I just wanted him.
Ren loved me.
He was in love with me.
Oh God, the kiss tasted like him—like toothpaste and Ren—and he was warm, every part of him. His hands, his lips, his tongue. This was him kissing me. This was him loving me. This wasn’t lust and this wasn’t a trick. I knew that in my core, in my very bones, and in my soul.
He pulled back, breathing heavily. “You would never hurt me. Never. It’s not because I love you. It’s because you love me.”