Chapter 8

Lillian

The kitchen was quiet as I nibbled on the salad Keir made me—too quiet for my liking. I glanced at him from the corner of my eyes to find him absentmindedly moving his salad around his plate with his fork.

I turned my head slightly, slowly, to not tip him off that I was looking at him. His forehead was wrinkled, his jaw tight. He was deep in thought.

What was he thinking about?

"I'm wondering why you're staring at me like that," he said with a deep voice as he turned to face me with an arched eyebrow.

My cheeks immediately burned. "I wasn't… I didn't mean to…"

"It's fine," he cut in, his voice sending shivers up my spine. "I know it's hard not to look." His smug tone, topped off by the smirk forming on his lips, made me swallow hard.

Fuck . Could he feel this? The way my heart raced when he looked at me like that? The charge in the air between us? The struggle to get a full breath?

"I can," he said, still smug.

"Stop reading my mind," I clipped back at him, his growing smirk making me even more flustered.

I wanted to slap that shit-eating grin off his face.

I had a love-hate relationship with our telepathy. Sometimes, it was handy. Other times, like now, it felt like an invasion.

"I don't need to when you think so damn loudly." I started to open my mouth to sass back, but he held up a finger. "I'm sorry." I blinked, surprised. "That was a bit rude and uncalled for. I know you're still not used to the whole telepathy thing."

"Wow," I whispered between us, still shocked he'd apologized.

He didn't say anything; he just looked at me, his eyes growing hungry. My attention was drawn to his tongue as it swept across his bottom lip.

I wanted to lean forward, run my fingers along the neatly trimmed hair on his face, and press my lips to his. I wanted to breathe in his scent. I wanted him to fill me up in more ways than one and consume me entirely.

"Look at me, princess," Keir's voice broke past my sinful thoughts. I lifted my eyes to look at his. "You have to stop doing that. For both our sakes."

Wait? What?

"What? I… I don't… I don't understand." Tears threatened to form as I stumbled over my words.

He closed his eyes for a moment and let out a breath. "I can't keep denying you."

I shifted in my seat, my throat suddenly feeling drier than the fucking Sahara as I whispered, "Then don't."

Keir let out a heavy sigh. "You don't understand, Lillian. It's not that simple."

I fucking hated that line. It's not that simple . It was a cop-out, a way for him to get out of giving me a real reason for all the bullshit.

I rolled my eyes before saying, "So help me understand. Tell me why. At first, I thought it was one-sided, but I know that's not true. The night we came through the portal for the first time? Outside the portal, when I closed it? Or down in the basement in front of Austin? Are you going to tell me it was all in my head? That you felt none of it?"

We just stared at each other.

I was sick of his games. I knew he wanted me. I'd seen it, felt it. He kept pushing me away for no reason, and I was tired of it. Hell was my home now. I was forever bonded to his twin brothers and wanted to bond with him too. I was about to go up against his father and become a demon. I wasn't going anywhere, so what was the issue?

Keir was no longer looking at me; his focus was now on the floor between our barstools.

"It's not you. It's me," he finally said quietly, his voice strained, as though those words had been difficult.

I let out a short chuckle at the cliché line he fed me, having to rein in full-on laughter. "Of course it is."

He glared up at me through his eyelashes. "This is not a damn game, Lillian. I'm not doing this for me. I'm doing it to keep you safe." I nodded my head sarcastically, seconds away from walking away. "I'm serious," he growled, his head snapping up so quickly I flinched.

"I know you are. That's all you ever are." I paused, taking a few calming breaths before I lost my shit. "Please, Keir. Give me one good reason, and I'll stop. I can't take not knowing why. I just need one—"

"My mother," he spoke angrily.

His mother? What did she have to do with us? Did she not want us together? She seemed to want the exact opposite when I met her. Had I read that wrong?

"She used to be… different," Keir said with more control. "Kind. Happy. Motherly ."

"What happened?" My heart was heavy for him.

"My father." He sounded calm, but his eyes were angry, yet so sad at the same time. "He broke her." He tore his gaze from mine.

"Keir…" I honestly didn't know what to say. I knew his father was a horrible man… demon… king… whatever, but to his wife? The mother of his children?

I shifted in my seat, my butt going numb against the hard wood.

"You're uncomfortable. Let's get up." He gestured to the arched entryway behind us that led from the kitchen to the living room, where the soft cushioned couches were.

"No… I want to hear more. I need to know why. I deserve to know," I pleaded.

He stood still, considering my words for a moment before nodding and taking my plate. "I'll be right behind you. I just need a second."

As I walked to the living room, my heart thumped loudly, and I wondered why he'd suddenly decided to be so open with me.

The couch was much more comfortable than the barstools, and I was more than appreciative of the thought he'd given my numb ass, but the longer I waited, the more nervous I got. What if he changed his mind and closed himself off again?

The water was still running in the sink. He was taking his time, and I pictured him sitting there, watching the water drain down the sink for no reason other than to delay our conversation, which made me worry even more.

Come on!

The water shut off, and his footsteps grew louder until he entered the living room, immediately focusing on me.

"So impatient," he said teasingly as he stopped at the bar and poured a drink.

I winced, embarrassed. I needed to start watching my thoughts before they got me into serious trouble.

When he turned to the couch, I realized he had two drinks. He handed me one of the glasses and then sat down on the opposite side of the couch, a tiny hint of a smile on his lips. I stared at the alcohol, though, stunned.

"Are you sure about this?" I held the drink up.

"You're asking me?"

"You just never let me… I haven't had a drink since…"

Regret washed over his face.

"Thank you," I said quickly. "For the drink."

He nodded. "We both need it for this anyway."

Neither of us spoke as we emptied our glasses. That's when the guilt started to settle in. Was it my place to push him for answers? Should I accept that he wanted to just be friends? Was this worth risking ripping open the rift already between us?

"You don't have to tell me…" I started.

At the same time, Keir said, "If you really want to know…"

We both stopped and laughed, dissolving some of the awkward tension. He took our empty glasses and put them on the table in front of us.

"You first," he said, his mouth still holding that intoxicating smile I hardly ever saw.

"No, that's okay, really. What were you saying?"

"I insist. I want to hear what you have to say." His words felt so genuine. For once, it felt like he wanted to have a conversation with me instead of looking for the first chance to bolt from the room.

"Um… Okay. I was going to say that you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. It's not my business, and I've been kind of a bitch about the whole thing. I didn't mean to come off so pushy about us." I gestured back and forth between us.

My heart sank when his smile faded. Shit .

"I'm sorry. I wasn't implying…" I trailed off, not even sure what to say. I hadn't meant to upset him.

"Lillian," Keir said, bringing my attention from the wall back to him. "You're fine. You deserve to know, and that doesn't make you a bitch. I've just been dreading this conversation." I leaned in intently. "My mother and father… What they have is the furthest thing from love. I mean, maybe she loves him, but she's his possession, his toy to pose and command around."

"You said she wasn't always like this, though. What was she like?" I fought the urge to scoot to the middle of the couch, closer to him.

His stone face softened a bit. "She was amazing. The woman gave birth, moved to Hell, and became my father's queen practically all at once, but she always made sure I had everything I needed. I had all her attention, her love. She smiled and laughed all the time. She turned my worst days into the best. It sounds foolish, but she was my best friend." A small grin formed on his face as he spoke about the woman his mother once was.

I smiled along with him. "It's not foolish. She sounds awesome." I felt a ping of jealousy, but I pushed it down. "So what happened? Why did she change so much?"

His smile disappeared again. "She wasn't just my best friend. She was my protector, the buffer between me and my father. He was— is brutal. His punishments were barbaric. I can't tell you how many times she convinced him to let me go or at least go easier on me. He hated how soft she was, said she was ruining me. His heir needed to be as ruthless and cold-hearted as he was, but I wasn't—I'm not—but he was convinced he could beat it into me."

I felt like I'd been stabbed in the chest. "I'm so sorry. That's awful."

"Nothing you should be sorry for." He sighed. "One day, she quit coming to my rescue, and with no one left to stop him, he unleashed hell. I don't know what changed. Maybe she got tired of fighting with him, or maybe he was hurting her instead and she couldn't take it anymore. Maybe she decided I deserved it…"

"No," I said as I moved to the middle against my better judgment. "You didn't deserve any of it. No one deserves that. He was your father, but he behaved like an abusive tyrant. That's on him , Keir. Not you." I placed my hand on his knee and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

He moved his hand over the top of mine, and I held my breath, afraid I'd gone too far, and he was going to toss my hand away. My skin warmed where he'd made contact, his touch gentle. I inhaled sharply when he squeezed my hand. I looked up at him, but he was focused on where our bodies were adjoined.

My head was completely silent at that moment. The only thing I could think about was his touch and how I wanted more.

"I can't do to you what my father did to my mother, Lillian. I can't add myself to the list of men who have hurt you. I can't bear hurting you. The way you are… it's… perfect." Keir looked up at me, and for a moment, he stared, unblinking, but sadness crept in, tainting the way he admired me.

Another moment passed before I could speak. "I… I don't care." He shook his head at me. "Seriously, Keir. You think you'll hurt me, so you've pushed me away instead. It's not fair. I don't care what you think might happen; I want you."

"Lillian… Fuck …" His voice was soft, conflicted, but he pulled his hand away and lowered his forehead to his palms, propping his elbows on his knees.

"Please, Keir. Just give it a chance. Give us a chance." I moved closer to him, noting how his body tensed.

I was thankful he didn't speak, because there was no way I would have heard it over the whooshing of my heart. It was hard to swallow, and my palms were clammy. I felt a rush of courage as Keir's lips parted, his breathing audible. He was nervous too.

"Lillian…" His voice was quieter than a whisper.

"Keir…" I countered.

I was close enough to smell the mint on his hot breath. We were only a few inches apart. His eyes fell to my lips then rose back to mine. I continued to lean forward, so ready to feel his lips on mine, and—

DING!

We stopped leaning into each other and turned to see who had arrived.

"Where's our girl?" Aiden's voice rang out from the elevator.

"Oh shit…" Nicholas spoke into his fist at the same time, sucking in a breath.

The twins looked between us, grins already forming.

"Nothing happened," Keir said defensively. He stood so abruptly, he nearly knocked me over. "I've got some work to do." He walked around the couch and down the hall.

Tears were already falling down my cheeks by the time his door slammed shut.