Funny that the Amazon thought so, since Delilah had never felt more levelheaded. Nervous, yes. Unsure, yes. But the thought of being with Layel just felt right.
Was he worth anything? Worth everything?
The questions besieged her just as Layel stepped from the forest and toward the fire. He winced against the bright light overhead, his movements slow, his expression unreadable. He'd found a shirt, probably stolen it from one of the other creatures. The black material covered his chest—and the scratches she'd probably left there. He wore the same pants he'd donned last night, though they were now clean, as if he had meticulously washed them.
Her heart skipped a beat at the hauntingly lovely sight of him. Awareness rushed through her veins and a sense of possessiveness rose inside her. Mine. She didn't like other women even looking at him, she realized. Last night, she'd fisted that white hair. She'd kissed those red lips. She'd caressed that hard body. Definitely mine.
See me, she silently beseeched. Come to me.
Layel didn't look in her direction.
Just one glance, that's all she needed. A moment between them, stolen and knowing. Private. But he gathered a leaf and meat and sat as far away from her as possible. As far from everyone as possible. Vampires could eat solid food? She hadn't known.
Evidently Nola hadn't, either. 'Why is the vampire eating real food?' she asked, head tilting in thought as though she were outlining battle plans.
'I'm not sure. Perhaps he just wants to blend in.' She hated that she didn't know. She wanted to learn everything about her man and his race. Look at me, Layel. Please. What was he thinking? Did he even know that she was here?
Delilah also hated that she had to war for his affections in private when everything inside her screamed to go to him, sit in his lap, wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him breathless. To put her brand on him so that everyone would know who he belonged to.
Belonged to? She frowned. The mighty warlord would never belong to anyone. That, she knew. He was too proud, too stubborn.
'I'm ashamed of you,' Nola said, dragging Delilah from her thoughts. 'Deeply ashamed. You are looking at him as if you would strip away your pride, turn your back on your family and give up all that you are if he offered the slightest encouragement.'
Those words echoed in her mind, and Delilah pushed to her feet, leaf tumbling to the ground unnoticed. Anger was a hot poker inside her. Anger with Nola, anger with herself. 'I'm ashamed of myself, too,' she said, 'for allowing the opinions of others to sway me.' She'd wanted to go to him, and so she should. She should not care what anyone else—her sister, her teammates—thought. She was not ashamed of her feeling for the vampire and she would not act as if she were.
That was weakness at its finest, and weak she refused to be.
Was Layel worth anything, worth everything? Even risking her life? Yes. Oh, yes.
Determined, she kicked into motion. His gaze lifted, clashed with hers as if he'd been attuned to her from the first and had known her every move. His eyelids narrowed to tiny slits, shielding the brilliant blue of his irises.
He gave a harsh shake of his head, a single movement meant to stop her.
She continued forward. This was a war, after all. Besides, his dominance might be welcome—and enjoyed— during lovemaking, but anywhere else she would not obey.
Several gazes followed her, watching, intent.
Only when she reached her target did she stop. They were toe to toe, almost touching. Up close, she could see his hair was damp, his skin glistening like freshly polished pearl. He smelled of man and power. Dark, energetic.
'What do you think you are doing?' he demanded quietly, fiercely.
'Giving you my support.' She could feel Nola's gaze boring into her back, hotter than anyone else's, but she did not back down. The outcome was too important.
'I don't need your support, woman.'
'Still, you have it.'
'Let me rephrase. I don't want your support.'
'You're lying.' A battle, remember? She could not give up. 'Last night—'
'Was not supposed to be repeated. Was not supposed to be talked about.'
Delilah anchored her hands on her hips. 'Well, I changed my mind.'
His nostrils flared. 'You cannot do that.'
'I did. I have. Last night—'
'Was clearly a mistake,' he finished for her.
The claim wounded her, but she had fought hurt and bleeding before. 'No. I enjoyed myself. I liked having you inside me, and I want you there again.'
His focus snapped behind her, to the creatures surely still watching them. Tagart wasn't here, she knew, but he would hear of this. She didn't care.
'We agreed,' Layel growled. 'Once. No more.'
Stripped of pride, Nola had said. If that's what was required, well…'I want more. I need more.'
He shook his head in denial, though his pupils dilated. 'You can't have more.'
'I can. I will.'
'Then you'll have to find someone else to give it to you.' He said it flatly, as if he didn't care and almost hoped she took his advice. But there was something in his eyes, a gleam of absolute murder. So ferocious, she shivered.
One of her brows arched. 'Shall I disprove your words right now?'
'Delilah.' A warning.
'I'm willing to risk everything for you, Layel. My sister is back there, hating me, but I came to you anyway. My team thinks I mean to betray them. I am risking everything.'
'Which shows only that you are foolish.'
A red haze washed over her vision. She had not thought winning his heart would be easy, but a little cooperation would have been nice. 'I'm not asking you to give me everything. I am asking you for time. A chance.' Don't push me away. See me as a prize worth fighting any battle for.
There was a long pause, but his expression gave nothing away. 'Delilah…' He stopped, whatever he'd meant to say destined to remain forever unheard. 'Listen closely, for I do not wish to have this conversation again.' He stood, towering over her. Then he leaned down, placing them nose to nose.
She bit her bottom lip, wishing he would kiss her as he had last night.
Breath caught in his throat—she heard the hitch—and he backed a step away. 'I had you and now I am done with you,' he croaked out, staring at her lips.
Another lie. She knew it. 'Layel,' she said, reaching for him. 'Don't do this. Let me—'
'No.' Another shake of his head, this one nearing violence. 'I don't want you. Nothing you say or do will change that.'
The sharpness of the latest rejection slapped her, cut her, made her bleed on the inside as she'd never bled on the outside. And still she fought. 'Layel—'
'No! Look at my arm, Delilah. Do it!' he growled when she hesitated. 'Look and see what I was willing to do when I left your embrace last night.'
Dread filled her, because she knew, deep down, that what she would see would change her somehow.
'Do it!' he shouted, and all of the forest quieted.
Gulping, she lowered her gaze. He had rolled back his shirt's sleeves, showcasing deep, deep grooves in both of his forearms. Dried blood, scabs. 'I don't understand.'
'I've had to carve this six times already because the wounds keep healing. I even rubbed dirt, moss and salt into each slice to slow the process. Read the words. Read them!'
She focused, tracing each scab with her gaze. Never. Again.
'Do you understand now?' he asked, his voice suddenly quiet.
Her mind emptied of thoughts, and her emotions numbed. The warrior instincts she'd been so sure would win him vanished as if they'd never been. He absolutely and unequivocally did not long for a future with her.
