Part 17 (1/2)
A bit wary of the situation, David lowered himself into the empty chair, asking, ”How are you feeling? I thought you'd still be asleep.”
Deven half shrugged. ”You know how it goes.”
”Nightmares?”
The Prime nodded without lifting his head from the blanket. He looked so young and vulnerable like that, it made David's heart ache. ”Whenever I do something foolish with my power I have a hard time s.h.i.+elding myself from the dreams. Jonathan can help, but he was wide awake, so I told him I'd just nap here until he came back and not to worry.”
”Is there anything I can get you?”
”No. Nothing.”
There was a moment's silence, with the fire crackling and Deven breathing slowly and evenly, though he wasn't asleep. His eyes were partway open, staring at the flames.
”What you did for Kat was . . . nothing short of miraculous,” David said quietly. ”Thank you. And I know Miranda will thank you when she can.”
”She did already.” Dev's eyes opened a little wider, and he fixed David with his gaze, eyes nearly as violet as irises in this light. ”David . . . there's something you must know about Miranda. Something important.”
”What? What is it?”
The Prime carefully pushed himself more upright. ”She's not like the others, David. She's not like Jonathan, nothing like any other Queen. What she's brought to you . . . nothing like your bond has been seen in the Council in over a thousand years. I wish I could explain it to you, but I don't know what it means, or even how it's different . . . but I can feel it. No Pair can expect to lead an ordinary life, but you . . . the two of you have something very important to do together.”
”I thought Jonathan was the prescient one,” David stammered, trying and failing to cover how rattled he was by Deven's words.
”You know I have it, too, in smaller measure. I never use it except to fight, but this time . . . trust me, my darling. It's not a matter of seeing the future. I know this. Whatever life you had planned, whatever peace you had hoped to attain, you'll never have it. Accept that now and you'll be much happier.”
They stared at each other a long moment before Deven relaxed back into the cus.h.i.+ons and said, ”It makes it hurt less, somehow, knowing that you were meant for such a life.”
David raised an eyebrow. ”You were the one who-”
”I know.” Deven cut him off, waving a hand. ”I've heard it all before.” He ran his hand back through his hair. ”David . . .” A note of entreaty entered Deven's voice, as well as reluctance, even fear, to say what had to be said. ”I've tried my best to make up for how I treated you. For years now I've done everything I could to earn back your trust. I've done things that . . .” He trailed off, eyes returning to the fire.
David frowned. ”What have you done?”
Deven ignored the question. ”I can't force you to forgive me. And if you never will . . . how can we remain friends at all? We've been dancing around this since I arrived . . . no, for years. Somehow we have to move on from here.”
David, restless, got up from the chair and came over to straighten out the blanket around the Prime as he had earlier with Miranda. ”To be honest, Deven, I don't know if we can. I thought I was past all of this, but I think I was just far away from it. From you. Maybe that's the best thing, for us to keep our distance.”
Deven grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop looking for something else to think about. ”Is that really what you want?”
Again their eyes held. David found he could barely breathe. ”No.”
”I should never have let you go,” Deven said softly, lifting one hand and brus.h.i.+ng a stray hair from David's eyes.
It felt like his spine was melting under the heat of that one light touch. David knelt in front of the couch, putting his head about level with Deven's. ”What about Jonathan?”
”Jonathan would have understood. He's said so many times.”
”He would have shared you with me?”
”Of course. He's always had his lovers. So could I, within the terms of our relations.h.i.+p.”
David smiled wryly. ”You're basing your regrets on the a.s.sumption that I would have been willing to share.”
The smile was returned, this time ruefully. ”We do a lot of insane things for love. I thought I was doing the right thing by breaking it off with you . . . but what kind of life could we have now if you had stayed?”
David's smile faded. ”You would have all of your soul mate's heart and all of mine, and I would have, perhaps, half of yours. So things would be wonderful for you, which is what matters, isn't it?”
”Are you suggesting that I'm selfish, David?”
”No, Deven, I'm saying it. You're selfish. You would rather I were warming your bed with only half a soul than finding fulfillment in my own life-and I'm sure you were much happier before I met Miranda. And now you think, what, that you can walk back into my life and claim some piece of me for yourself after you left me in the gutter with a broken heart?”
”You're wrong,” Deven snapped, anger sparking in his eyes as they went silver around the edges. ”You have no idea how wrong you are. How can you think that of me after everything we've been through together? How can you think I don't want to see you happy?”
The Prime sat up, pulling away from David, then shoved the blanket aside and forced himself to his feet. ”You should go,” Deven said, voice going cold. ”I need to pack.”
But Deven wavered where he stood, dizziness catching up to him, and David caught him as his knees buckled, his heart pounding at the sudden feeling of Deven's slender body against his. Dev tried to push him away, but the effort was halfhearted at best and he was still weak. David held on to him, some desperate wild thing in his chest refusing to withdraw, and after a moment Deven gave up and leaned into his arms.
”I don't want to feel this way,” Deven murmured into David's chest. ”I want to forget we were ever in love and be content with friends.h.i.+p. But I don't think I can, David. I can keep my distance and I can honor your commitment, but I can't ever stop loving you.”
David drew back to look at him. There was such anguish in his face, and David felt it just as keenly himself even if it didn't show. ”I know,” he said. ”Neither can I.”
Deven shook his head. ”You should go. Go, now, before we do something that . . .”
He didn't have a chance to finish the sentence. David's mouth had already covered his.
Ten.
Kat woke to a world that had changed, and changed profoundly, without her permission.
She didn't want to open her eyes. There were nightmares in the dark, but she had no idea what being awake would prove or disprove about the night gone by, and better the devil she knew than the one she didn't . . . although . . . what was that beeping?
Curiosity got the better of her and she slit one eye open to get at least some idea of where she was. Could it be . . . just maybe . . . she was in her own bed, beneath the handmade quilt her grandmother had left unfinished when she died, the blue and purple one Kat had clumsily handst.i.tched the last square onto? Was she in her cozy bedroom in the townhouse she had bought in a bid to feel grounded someplace, finally at home for the first time in her life, the furniture and DVDs testimony to the fact that she had chosen to call Austin her town after years of wandering around the planet?
The beep came again just as her eye opened enough to admit light, and her heart sank as confusion set in. No, this wasn't home. Home wasn't stark white and cold, and it certainly didn't have a bank of machines up by the headboard.
”Kat?”
She pried her eye open the rest of the way, then its partner, and turned her sight on the origin of the voice, a dark-haired young man whose brow was creased with worry.
”Hey,” she croaked.
Drew let out a breath of relief and squeezed her hand almost too hard; she was aware, then, of something poking her, and a second later realized it was an IV.
”Am I in the hospital?” she asked, surprised at how weak her voice was. She sounded like she'd had the flu.
He made an indefinite gesture with his head. ”Sort of. It's the Anna Hausmann Memorial Clinic down on Fifteenth.”