Never again. Never again would he kiss her, touch her, love her. She was not a prize to him, she was a nuisance. She was everything she'd never wanted to be, forgettable, unimportant, unworthy. Once again, she'd chosen the wrong man. Craved something that could never be. This time hurt far worse than the other. Far worse.
'I understand,' she said softly. This time, he did not have to put space between them. She did. Inch by inch she backed away. Her legs were shaky, she realized vaguely, near collapse.
I was willing to give up everything for him, yet he doesn't want me. Oh, gods. He didn't want her. The numbness began to crack, lances of pain trying to shoot through her.
The more distance she gained, the more emotion Layel showed. Regret flashed over his beautiful features, followed by sorrow. 'It has to be this way,' he said with so much self-loathing it even managed to saturate the air. 'I have a mission. I have a mate. I cannot forget that.'
'You had a mate,' she said, wanting to hurt him as he'd hurt her. 'She died. You didn't save her and you feel guilty. I had thought, hoped, you'd done enough penance. Clearly you will never do enough.'
A muscle clenched in his jaw, but she wasn't finished.
'No matter what you've done, it's who you are today, tomorrow, that matters. You deserve to be happy. I wanted to be the one to make you happy. I can't, I see that now. No one can. You don't have to worry that I'll bother you anymore.'
'Delilah.'
Well, he remembered her name at least. Another step. 'You don't have to say anything else. I saw only what I wanted to see, blind to…other things. I will not be so foolish again.'
He ran his tongue over his fangs. 'You are hurt. Do not think to fall into the arms of another. That will only make things worse for you.'
'Only one way for me to know that for sure, isn't there?' she asked bitterly.
He was panting shallowly as he rubbed a finger over the carved reminder on his arm. 'You are better off without me.'
'Yes. I am. That's one point on which we absolutely agree.' Another step. She wanted to spin around, flee, but refused. He would know how thoroughly he'd destroyed her. She laughed. What did it matter if he knew? He could not think any less of her. Oh, wait. He could. 'My first lover, he was a dragon. Do you know what that means, Layel? It means you claimed the castoff of your hated enemy. You took a dragon's leavings. I hope the knowledge sickens you the way you have sickened me this day.'
One of his fangs peeked over his bottom lip.
'I didn't ask you to give up anything for me,' she told him, 'but I would have given up everything for you.' The war is over, and I have lost. War. Ha! As if she could have fought a dead woman. The battle had been over before it began. 'Until the end of forever, Layel.'
With that, she did spin. She did flee.
And for once she did not hope he would follow her.
CHAPTER 21
TWO WEEKS PASSED. Several new challenges were forced upon them. Several more creatures were ruthlessly executed, leaving only a few members of each team. That's when the gods decided to dissolve the teams so that it was every man for himself. Unfortunately, the game itself hadn't changed. It was still life and death.
Though he had no right, Layel had kept a sharp eye on Delilah. She had survived the challenges. A simulated battle with swords and spears—to prove their skill in combat. A seemingly endless hike without food or water—to show their ability to forage for their own provisions while weakened. A quiz, taken while leaping through fiery hoops—to test their memories while under stress.
Through it all, Delilah had never looked at him, never spoken to him, never betrayed any concern for his survival. And he found that he…missed her. He wanted more of what they'd shared, hated how he'd hurt her. Again. He didn't care who or what her first lover had been, only that he himself was no longer allowed to worship that sweet body.
And he could have had it forever. She would have given him more, for as long as he'd desired. They could have been together without reservation, for now they could spend time together without having to do so in secret —not that she cared.
Never again, he reminded himself as he surveyed the pool where he'd taken Delilah. He was alone, even the animals wary of him.
At least Delilah wasn't trying to kill him. Nola, on the other hand, had attempted to slay him twice. The first time, she had almost succeeded, sinking a stick into his stomach and twisting his organs while he was distracted. By Delilah. The second, she'd gone for his neck with a dagger while he appeared to be sleeping.
That time, he'd been waiting for her and had managed to subdue her without hurting her. He didn't know why he cared, except that Delilah might have been angry if her sister were hurt.
Delilah.
You got what you wanted. She is no longer a part of your life. They were now the enemies they should have been in the beginning. Yet he had never been more miserable.
Layel wasn't sure how much more island life he could tolerate without snapping, flying into a rage. Something. Two nymphs and both dragons had survived, as had the Amazons. Brand had, for whatever reason, stood beside Layel each and every time they entered council and kept the others from voting for his death.
Layel was too stubborn to ask him why.
Zane was still alive, as well. He fought each challenge now with a ferocity that was astounding. Layel suspected Zane would fell even him if the gods decreed it. Once, during a race through a maze, Zane had pushed Delilah to the ground in his rush to the finish line and Layel had nearly beheaded him. What kind of king am I? What kind of friend?
What kind of mate am I?
At the word mate, it was not Susan's image that flooded his mind, but Delilah's. Blue hair, violet eyes, lush lips, tattoos. Spread, eager for him. Shock filled him. Delilah…his…forever. The past forgotten. It was almost too much to take in.
What was she doing?
He knew she was not sleeping enough. Every time he saw her, there were dark circles under her eyes. Her body was always taut, as though she were an injured predator, afraid, ready to strike. Tagart was always at her side, ever the protector, glaring at Layel in a silent warning to keep his distance.
Layel no longer knew what to do or what he wanted. He knew he hated seeing Tagart near her. Knew he should be the one guarding her. The woman had given him pleasure—peace—for the first time in hundreds of years. That meant she was his. Or would have been, if he hadn't purposely destroyed her.
Oh, gods. The look on her face as she'd backed away from him those weeks ago…the things he'd said…He was a monster. She hadn't deserved that. Had only deserved his utmost care.
You didn't save her, she'd said, devoid of emotion as she spoke of Susan, and you feel guilty. I had thought, hoped, you'd done enough penance.
Had he? It was almost too wonderful to believe.
I would have given up everything for you, she had added.
He'd nearly caved then, had nearly forgotten his vow, his past. His only love. Because, for a brief moment, he'd seen his future in Delilah's eyes and it had been a sight so beautiful it was beyond his comprehension.
Susan used to look at him like that, but back then he'd been worthy. Now, after the things he'd done, he'd known that Delilah was simply fooling herself, wanting him to be something he was not and could never be again: pure.
One day soon she would realize that and leave him. After everything he'd said, perhaps she had already realized her mistake. And it was better this way, he reminded himself for the thousandth time. He stared up at the heavens, the moon shooting golden rays in every direction. She deserved someone else, someone better. Someone who wasn't…tainted. Tagart?
