It was true. All of it.
How would I begin to explain my resurrection to my father? To the other close-minded people back in my hometown?
“Why would you bother?”
He sat up, twisting to face me, his knee pressing against my shin. “You’ll think I’m mad if I tell you.”
“I already do.”
He chuckled. “You and I . . . We are meant for each other.”
My conversation with Tadhg in the garden came flooding back. “This is that soulmate nonsense, isn’t it?”
His head dropped. “I’m going to kill Tadhg,” he muttered, shaking his head.
This probably wasn’t the best time for me to suggest he use the cursed dagger so I could get Keelynn back.
“It’s not nonsense,” he insisted.
In what world would fate pair the two of us together? We were attracted to each other, sure. But attraction wasn’t the same as some cosmic force binding us to one another.
Rían caught my hand, bringing it to his face. The spark was there, only it felt stronger than before. “Do you feel that?”
I shook my head, not wanting him to see through my lie.
His eyes started to glow. “Don’t lie to me. I know you do. I am cold and dead inside, but when you touch me, something ignites, and I burn,” he confessed in a desperate whisper. “I burn for you just as you burn for me.”
His tongue nipped out, leaving his lips glistening. “I know I’m not good—that I don’t deserve you. I tried to let you go. Then you sought me out, and I thought maybe fate wasn’t playing some twisted game. Maybe something in my cursed life was finally going right. Maybe I wasn’t meant to give you up.”
I pulled my hand from his cheek, rubbing it against the blanket to rid my skin of the incessant burning.
Rían’s empty hands fell into his lap. “I should’ve known better.”
I knew the look flickering in his eyes—felt it to my core.
Regret.
He stood, taking the fire with him as he retreated toward the door.
“Why did you come to my room?” I whispered.
His hand stilled on the knob. “Because you screamed.”
I’d screamed, and the only person to come to my aid was my villain.
“Hostages are no good to me dead,” he added with a wry smile before leaving me to burn alone.
* * *
Tiny shoots sprouted from the rich soil, but it would be at least a month before my garden looked like anything more than a plot of dirt.
Last night, sleep had come in waves, crashing over me. I was pulled into darkness only to be dragged back the surface by a blue-eyed prince.
I am cold and dead inside . . .
I burn for you just as you burn for me . . .
Why?