Page 196 of Carnal Wagers

“No. It’s not—” Erel cut off suddenly and took in a deep breath, looking a mix of forlorn and frazzled. “I’m leaving. Back to France. I cannot stay here anymore. There is no point.”

“What about Maeve? She needs you.”

“No. She doesn’t.” He shook his head. For a man who always took charge of situations, he looked at a loss. “She would not want me with her. I don’t think she ever really did.”

“You’re hurting.”

“No,” he muttered.

“It’s normal after she kept this from us—”

“No.”

“But she needs us now more than ever.”

“No!” he snapped, and I flinched with surprise, then winced at the sharp, breath-stealing pinch spasming in my back.

“Watch how you speak to her, Thyssen.” At any other time, I’d smile at Cillian’s menacing arrogance toward Endgame’s finest assassin when he’d been half dead only a few hours ago, but not right now.

With a couple of deep inhales, Erel sucked back in every one of his emotions until nothing but a blank sheet remained.

“Maeve told me the truth about us as she bled out. She thought she was dying. She thought you were both dying, so she didn’t hold back. There never was an us. There was only ever you and her. I was only a means for her to have more access to you. Nothing more. For two years, she used me, and I—” Red sploshed across his face around his pained, watery gaze. “She made her choice. It was not me, and I will not wait around to realize it never will be.”

“Don’t go, please.”

With a shake of his head, he strode for the door but stopped halfway out.

“When you see her, tell her I loved her. Tell her…I forgive her.”

“Tell her yourself.”

A weary scoff followed him out of the room, and the door clicked softly shut behind him.

“Who does he think he is?” I slapped the bedding. “If he really loved her, he’d want to say goodbye properly.”

“Síbhean.” Cillian traced a finger along the edges of my hospital gown. “Love, look at me.”

“What?” I lashed out, recoiling from the gentleness he offered. Why was it suddenly so stifling in the room?

Cillian pinched my chin, his gaze still tender, but his firm touch didn’t allow me to pull away.

“Do you remember what your brother told you yesterday?”

My brother? Yesterday? Oh, right, our reunion in Colombia. That already felt like weeks ago.

“He told you Erel meant to move to Boston. He was ready to leave everything behind because he loved her. You have to consider that it killed a part of him when she said she never felt the same. Imagine if it were us. Would you stay?”

I jerked my chin free because, damn him, I hated how right he was about this. The newly stitched stab wound in my back flared scorching hot as punishment for the harsh movement, and I clenched my teeth through the pain. Cillian immobilized me against his body, holding me tight. As the pain dissipated, a wave of exhaustion rushed over me.

“For better or worse, Maeve latched onto you and no one else. I, for one, can’t find a reason to regret that when it saved you.”

I wobbled my head up and down loosely and burrowed my nose into his neck. “Promise me we’ll take care of her.”

“I swear.” His voice rumbled through me. “Just focus on healing now.”

“Then we’ll go home?” I sucked the smell of him into my lungs, clinging to the contentment it provided.

“You mean my penthouse?”