My shoulders drop. “But you said?—”
“I said that look makes me want to give you anything, not that I will.” He tips my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. “It’s not safe.”
“When will it ever be safe?” I ask. “As much as I love our home here, our life here…” I stop myself, shaking my head.
“What?” he asks softly.
I sigh. “I won’t be a prisoner again.”
A flinch rattles through him. “Is that what this feels like?”
“No,” I assure him. “But the idea of never leaving the wards again is pushing it to feel that way. Especially after I got a taste of traveling when we went to Italy. It was so freeing. I want to explore the world with you, Saint. Not only the confines of this palace, as nice as it may be.”
Saint blows out a breath. “I know,” he admits. “But it’ll only be until I can stop Samuel.”
Samuel. His twin. My abuser. The axe hanging over our heads. The one he shares a bond with too. One that may kill him.
“We don’t know when he’ll strike next,” Saint continues. “We have to wait. Once he’s dealt with and the Sons of Honor are finished, it will be safer.”
“I hate letting threats dictate our lives. I’ve let fear rule me long enough.”
“I know,” he says, sliding a hand along my cheek.
I lean into the touch, an idea occurring to me. “We should bedonewaiting.”
“I told you it’s not safe?—”
“No,” I cut him off. “We should take the timeline into our own hands.”
“I’m not following.”
“Samuel wants me?—”
A low, territorial growl rips from Saint.
I kiss him quickly before stepping out of his embrace. “We should let him have me.”
Saint’s off the bed in seconds, fangs out and feral.
“Not like that!” I hurry to say. “Trap him,” I explain. “Use me as bait.”
“Absolutely fucking not.”
“Saint.”
“Aurora.”
“Think about it,” I urge. “It would be perfect. We’ve never been able to catch him once he doesn’t want to be found. If we lured him out, you all could take him down. Imprison him, so you don’t hurt your twin bond and?—”
“No.” His tone is equal parts fear and rage. “I will never use you as a tool to carry out my vengeance. And he’ll never stop. A prison will only slow him down. He has to die. It’s the only way to put an end to the string of evil he’s left in his wake. I must be the one to end him.”
“It’s not, actually,” I argue. “You could let one of the others kill him if it came to that. You don’t have to be the one.”
“He’s my brother,” he counters, emotion filling his eyes. “Mine. My responsibility. My penance. So much of the blood he’s spilled is on my hands.”
I shake my head, my chest tightening. I can feel the shame and remorse and grief swirling down the mating bond. I do my best to soothe it. I’ve tried so many times to tell him none of this is his fault, but he won’t budge.
“We could plan it,” I try again. “Have everyone there. I’d have so much protection it would be almost too easy.”