10. Roan

Roan

I can't believe we did that—I can't believe I did that. I can't believe I came like that. It had never been so… intense. Primal. Connected.

The feral need that had been growling and stretching inside me since I pulled Theo from the cottage should be finally sated, but instead it's clamouring for more. To claim him. Own him. Give myself to him. To tie him to me and never let him go.

It is, quite frankly, terrifying. Despite preferring one-night stands or casual things, I have been in relationships before. But never has anyone consumed me or my mind as much as Theo. Never has anyone driven me to the depths of desperation he has. The need to devour every aspect of his passions.

Never once have I yearned for more, for everything, with another being. Except for Theo. For him, I have fucking yearned .

Feeling how it could be between us, how it is between us, has shaken me to my very core.

The floorboards are hard under my knees, the ache from the pressure only just beginning to seep into my consciousness. His ankles are still locked over my calves, and I can feel the strain there, see the tenseness in his body, despite his joking.

The seductive smile doesn't quite mask the hurt in his eyes. I sit back on my heels, or try to, instead my ass hits his feet. But he doesn't move them and so I sit there and tuck my dick back in my pants to buy myself and my short-circuited brain some time.

His fingers are toying with his singlet, pulling and twisting at the fabric, right beside the combined mess we made. I blink my attention away and scrub my face with my hand, like maybe I can scrub away the last twenty minutes.

The last twenty minutes that had been the most consumingly passionate, perfect minutes of my life.

Fuck.

"Theo we—"

His hand strikes through the air swiftly, cutting me off. The harried movements of him untangling his feet from under my ass almost pitch me forward as he scrambles to sit up. Away from me.

"Do not say it, Roan. Do not fucking say it, or I swear I'll burn the tavern to the ground." He turns his back to me as he puts himself back together, only turning to face me after he is all zipped up.

He gets to his feet, brushing himself off. There are tears in his eyes; they glisten in the golden afternoon sun streaming through the windows. He looks so beautiful in the light. Golden. Ravaged. Powerful. Sated. But now devastated.

Because of me.

I didn't mean to tense up and diminish the afterglow. But I also know that we shouldn't have done this. I'm eleven years older than him. He's been through, fuck, he's been through unimaginable trauma and has lost everything .

He deserves to be free. To find himself, whoever that is and wherever it takes him. But my life is here, tied to this place, the Black Stump, and the Woods. He deserves more, to experience life on his terms.

And I know, I know , that if I let myself have him—really have him—I will never be able to let him go.

"I don't know what your fucking problem is, Roan. But I will not do this again. Not have the most incredible experience of my fucking life and have you rip it from me with your fucked up noble ideals."

If his words were venom, I'd be dead twice over with the way he spits them at me, stabbing his finger for added effect. Beard rash and anger flush his skin, the tips of his pointed ears fiery red. "Get it together. I deserve better." The pain in his broken voice is palpable. His head shakes, his eyes low, his copper curls a mess from the floor and my hands.

"I fucking deserve better." His final words are whispered, almost to himself, and finish with a nod.

I desperately want to reach out, to stop him, explain everything. That it's not him , it's how much I want him, but I can't .

My mouth flaps uselessly, my brain unable to scramble together the thoughts to tell him that even though I need him more than the air I breathe, I can't have him. It's not right . My stupid lizard brain knows that not having isn't right either, and I'm left with nothing .

Nothing but his look of disgust before he stalks from the room and out of the house without a backwards glance. Maybe it's better this way, better that he doesn't think I want him like I do. It might hurt now, but it could save more pain in the future. If I can't give Theo what he needs, it's best to let him go.

The thought slices through me like a knife, stealing my breath and making my heart squeeze violently.

Indecision flares once more when I hear his footsteps on the floor below me, and I can see myself chasing after him, wrapping him in my arms and promising him the world, whatever he wants, to forgive me. Have me however he wants me.

I see myself walking away from the Black Stump, my home, Mauvy, everything, to follow him to wherever he wants to go. But the slamming of the front door pulls me back into bitter reality.

I can't leave the Black Stump. I can't, in all good conscience, tie him here, either. And I can't have him a little bit, without needing it all. So, I stay frozen in place, on the floor of Inigo's cottage terrified of what I've done.