Page 67 of Falling for the Felid
“I can never fully atone,” he declares, then sighs. “Raðulfr thinks otherwise, and I… I understand his logic. I didn’t, but today I spoke with someone I used to know back then, and it made me reconsider.”
There are so many questions I want to ask, but he seems so fragile right now that I think it’s best to let him drive this. So we sit there in silence for long seconds as our pizza gets cold and the clock in the other room ticks loudly.
“Raðulfr says I’m punishing myself,” he says suddenly. “Maybe he’s right. Maybe enough time has passed that I can allow myself some joy in my life.”
Considering how many thousands of years old he is, and the fact that whatever this is happened when he was my age, I’m betting on yes, he’s been punishing himself for too long.
“But I’m so afraid. What if I do, and then one day, the people I’ve allowed myself to love the most find out the truth? What if they can’t love me once they know?”
The words are cold, heavy stones between us, and my chest aches for him. Tears threaten to choke me, my hormones reacting to his emotions, and it’s a big effort to control myself. I clear my throat and take a minute to breathe deeply.
“The thing is,” I begin, then hesitate. “The thing is, you can’t ever know for sure unless it happens. But it’s been a long time that you’ve been living with this, and it sounds like nobody in your life knows except Raðulfr. So why would that change?”
For a second, his expression lightens, a tiny ghost of a smile flitting across his lips. “You’re so practical, kitten.” Then he shakes his head, the lightness gone. “I couldn’t risk my happiness on a possibility. It would be hanging over my head like a blade. And—and I don’t want to commit my life to you without total honesty between us.”
Holy fuck. Fuck. Did he just…?
I cough, trying to get more air in my lungs.
“But maybe you don’t want that anyway,” he adds, watching me closely.
My head is shaking frantically before he even finishes the sentence. “I do. Damn it, Ari, you can’t just… This isn’t the conversation I thought we’d be having tonight!”
“We don’t have to have it if you don’t want to, or if you’re not ready.” His gaze slides away, and I practically lunge across the table to sandwich his face between my palms.
“I want to. I want to have the conversationandcommit my life to you. Idiot.” I add the last word mostly to let out some of the conflicted emotions threatening to choke me. “I love you.”
The joyful smile that takes over his face is all the assurance I need that I’m making the right decision. He loves me too, and we’re going to live happily fucking ever after, even if I have to bully him into it.
Gently, of course.
I bet Raðulfr would be on my side. If Ari proves stubborn about this, I’m going to recruit his species leader to help me show him sense.
“Okay,” I say, letting him go and trying to get my thoughts in order. “I want to be with you, you want to be with me, but you’re scared I’ll change my mind once I know what you did in the past. Right?”
Sobering, he nods, and we look at each other awkwardly while we avoid the elephant in the room. Because by his logic, there’s only one way to resolve this, and it scares the crap out of him. Me too, if I’m honest.
I rub a hand over my face. “The thing is, Ari, I know you. I know your friends. I know your species leader. All of us, collectively, like you and think you’re pretty great. Raðulfr knows your secret and he still thinks that. So if you don’t want totell me, that’s a risk I’m willing to take, and we can still start our happy life together.” Even as the words leave my mouth, I’m not sure if I mean them. Can I truly live for over a thousand years with Ari and never question his past?
I don’t have to consider it, though, because Ari’s shaking his head.
“I’m not okay with that, Fe. You deserve to know everything about me before you make this decision.”
I sit back. “Then the ball’s in your court.” I don’t want him to do something that makes him uncomfortable for my sake, but it’s truly not my decision to make.
For a long minute, he says nothing, his face pale and sweat breaking out on his forehead.
“The thing is,” he begins, “you might have some questions when I’m done, but I can’t answer them. I can tell you the things that directly affect me, but my story ties in with a bigger one that is heavily classified.”
That is not reassuring. “Just tell me what you can.”
“The anomalies that destroyed my world weren’t natural. There was an elf—Éibhear—who discovered a way to open temporal portals—gateways through time. Only, the fabric of reality isn’t able to sustain time travel, and so it began to break down.”
My left eyelid starts to twitch. “Um. What?”
Ari pulls a face. “It’s a long and complicated story, and I’m trying to stick to the main points. Éibhear was a selfish, greedy man. He was a snob, and he thought he was better than pretty much everyone else. He made a lot of money opening temporal portals, and when the king and Brandt discovered that they were the reason for the anomalies that had begun, he refused to cease opening them. He continued until it reached a point where the fabric of our dimension was no longer able to repair itself, guaranteeing its doom.”
My throat is suddenly dry. Ari has the ability to open portals. Did he contribute to the destruction of his dimension?
