He bit out a sound of frustration. “I don’t want to think of you like this! But it guts me to know you’ve been with others, and I can’t stop imagining you with them! Jealousy claws at me from the inside!”

“I need to know: Can you ever get over my past?”

“I will not hurt you again, not as I have.”

“That’s not what I asked. Can you get over it?”

He didn’t want to lie to her, but he didn’t see how he could ignore what she’d been doing for five centuries. “You have to give me time to wrap my head around all this. For very, very many years, my life was simple. I had one job to do, one thing on which to focus. Now? I’m always conflicted. I just need time.”

“How much time were you planning to give me to get used to life at Skye Hall? To dress differently, to act differently. Even to make love differently. How much time would I be allotted to become someone other than myself?”

He stabbed his hands through his hair. “Then tell me something to change my mind. You’ve always made me rethink things. Do it now!”

“I can’t—not when you boil my past down to an imaginary number of males. Know that you’re about to join their ranks.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just like you, they all failed to win me. When I finally find the one I’m supposed to be with, I’ll give him something no other has claimed.”

“Which is?”

She pinned his gaze with her own. “My heart.”

Something of hers he could possess that no other had before.

“You’re no different from Felix. Both of you wanting something from me. But neither of you ever liked me.”

“I am nothing like that sorcerer! I’d give my life for yours. You know that.”

“Because of your instinct. Remember when you yelled at me, railing that it compelled you to pursue me—otherwise you would have taken my head yourself? If instinct is what’s driving you to be with me, then you might as well be ensorcelled against your will.”

Guilt flared—he had even fought his instinct when it urged him to bestow a kindness on her. He’d had numerous opportunities to limit her suffering, and each time he’d opted for her misery.

“We’re kidding ourselves, Thronos. With our history, these last three days have just been a recap. The damage has long since been done.”

“You’re the one who’s trying to get me to forget the past.”

“Not to forget it! To see it differently.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Why am I even trying? It’s like arguing with a flying, demonic wall. I just can’t do this with you!” She sat to put on her boots, refusing to look at him.

Ignoring me once again. Keeping her within his sight, he paced the glade.

Yet as his ire cooled, he began to feel like the worst hypocrite. Who was he to judge her? He’d planned to commit an offendment to impregnate her, to trap her, though they weren’t wed.

I dare to judge?

Why couldn’t he get over the past? He was going to destroy her before it was all over.

She’d been hunted, attacked, and poisoned most of her life. It was a wonder she had any goodness in her at all! She could have done truly unforgivable deeds. Instead, she’d lived her life.

Without him.

And that’s really what you can’t forgive.

For ages, he’d told himself that her actions had forever changed him—a stream carving a groove through rock—ensuring he would always despise her.

But deep down, hadn’t he feared the opposite was true? That no force in the universe could change his feelings for her?

He recalled his conversation with Nïx, when she’d told him how to find Melanthe. He’d been choking back frustration that he would have to wait an entire year to capture his mate, predicting he’d go mad in the interim, when the Valkyrie had said, “I’ll give you a piece of advice, Thronos Talos. Before Melanthe became this, she was that. . . .”

He hadn’t known what the Valkyrie was talking about. Now, as he gazed over at his mate, the answer came to him.

Before Melanthe became my enemy, she was my best friend.

TWENTY-NINE

When Lanthe stood, dressed once more, she realized she was overflowing with power.

Which meant she was done beguiling Thronos. She turned a mean smile in his direction. I’ll go wherever my happy ass feels like.

He stopped his pacing. “Melanthe, we don’t have to figure this out all at once. We can’t expect to wade through everything so soon. It will take time, which we will have once we get home.”

For a crazy moment, she thought, Maybe I should just go with him. It was rumored that the Vrekeners stored all the sorcery they harvested in a vault in Skye Hall; Thronos was planning to take her straight there.

As charged up as she felt right now, she could command Aristo to kiss Sorceri ass and order him to release all the abilities his kind had stolen (maybe taking one or two or ten for herself and Sabine).

Lanthe would be a Sorceri superstar, no longer preyed upon by the likes of Portia and Ember!

Wait a minute. Surely Thronos had to worry about the havoc she could wreak up there? “I don’t get it, Thronos. How do you think you’re going to keep me captive? You don’t have a collar, and my persuasion is recharging with a vengeance. . . .” She trailed off, comprehension dawning. “Oh, dear gods. Y-you planned to take my power.”

For the briefest instant, had he winced?