Page 88 of Scarlet Wars
I was pacing my own dorm, blood still hot beneath my skin, my mind refusing to settle.
Between the almost-kiss when I left Crown, the one right before the visit of the High Chief, and whatever the hell this just was, there was no denying it anymore: I was very,veryattracted to Caden Colt.
The dark prince of deception himself.
The man responsible for my scars.
Would he say stuff like that to all women? He was known to be a quite the player, but…
I groaned, collapsing onto my bed and burying my face in my hands. My brain was short-circuiting.
If you were mine…
The way he’d said it. The heat in his voice, the certainty behind it.
Gods, why had that sounded so hot?
How was it that when James said it, it made me want to punch a wall, but when Caden said it—even hypothetically—I was two seconds away from scaling him like an ovulating squirrel?
A strangled sound escaped me as I flopped backward onto the mattress, arms sprawled out, staring at the ceiling like it might have the answers I desperately needed.
This obsession with him, or attraction—whatever the hell it was—was becoming a problem. I really had to stop lusting after the guy responsible for myphysicalscars if I ever wanted to find my way back to the one responsible for myemotionalones.
Which I didn’t.
Because everything that happened today had made another thing abundantly clear: I no longer loved James Walker.
But even if James felt impossibly far away now—even if the thought of going back to him made my skin crawl more than it comforted—I couldn’t erase what he represented. Couldn’t ignore the fact that Alek could be his son. And I couldn’t erase the threat hanging over us.
The Chiefs had laid down the law: no bond, no mercy. If I didn’t come back to James on their timetable, anyone I cared about would pay. If I so much as let this pull toward Caden become real, that would be the excuse they’d use. The noose would cinch, and the people I loved would dangle in the balance.
I wanted to fight them. Gods, I wanted to stand up and burn their rules to ash.
But could I really be that selfish?
Reality slid across my face like a wet cloth. I saw the cost. I felt it: the sick lurch in my stomach, the cold sweat at my temples, the way my hands trembled at the idea of draggingeveryone I loved into open war when I didn’t even know how to win one.
I wasn’t ready to martyr people for my rebellion. I wasn’t ready to be the person who said, “follow me” and led them straight to slaughter.
Which is exactly what would happen if I gave in to this urge, into thisattractionto Caden.
If I crossed that line, it wouldn’t stop at a single moment, or a single touch. It would unravel me. It would tether me to him in ways I couldn’t afford, not when the consequences of my choices echoed so far beyond my own skin.
I knew that with a certainty that surpassed want. That surpassed doubt. That surpassed every self-serving instinct still clinging to the idea of happiness.
It had to stop. Immediately.
Before I did something stupid. Before I did something reckless.
Before I made this worse.
Or worse than worse, before I made itreal.
I exhaled sharply, running a hand over my face. Damn it, I needed sleep.
I rolled onto my side, curling beneath the covers, squeezing my eyes shut as if I could will my body to relax, force my mind to go quiet.
But it was useless.
