“They didn’t have to speak of it,” I said, looking away and not meeting his eyes. “I can see it when they look at me, Ari. I can tell I’m not welcome. That I’m not good enough.”
“That’s not true!” There was the growl of his Drake in his voice and I felt both of their upset emotions flowing over me. But that only made me more upset.
“It is true, Ari!” I insisted. I gestured at him. “Look at us—at you and me. We’re so mismatched it’s not even funny! No wonder your people don’t want me for their queen and your parents don’t want me for your wife—your L’lorna! We don’t belong together—not really. And I…” I shook my head. “I’ve been fooling myself all this time that we did. That someone like me could actually be with someone like you. But it’s all a load of crap—it can never be, never work—not really.”
I wrapped my arms around myself and turned away from him, feeling sick inside. I knew deep down that I wasn’t being fair—knew that I was probably causing both Ari and his Drake untold anguish. But I couldn’t seem to help myself. My deep insecurity just came bubbling to the surface and despite my attempts to cultivate a better self-image, at that moment, it overwhelmed me.
For a long moment Ari was silent, though I thought I could hear his Drake roaring with rage and pain. Then he took me by the shoulders and turned me to face him.
“Kaitlyn…” His clear amber eyes were filled with anguish. “L’lorna,” he murmured. “What can I do to convince you of how beautiful you are to me? How can you ever believe me—or truly love me as I love you—if you cannot see past your own scars to the beauty and strength beyond?”
I looked down, unable to meet his intense gaze anymore.
“I don’t know what beauty you’re talking about,” I whispered, my throat tight with tears. “Please, Ari. I just…just want to be alone right now.”
He nodded and dropped his hands.
“I’ll leave you then. But please believe that I love you, Kaitlyn—I and my Drake love you—and we always will.”
I didn’t answer him. How many times had he said that he loved me with no reply from me? Why couldn’t I let myself be free to love him like I loved his Drake? Why couldn’t I learn to love myself despite my scars? I had lectured Saint about needing therapy but that was a laugh—I still needed it myself.
Why couldn’t I get over my past and reach for my future?
I had no answers. I wanted to cry but I swore to myself I wouldn’t until he left. I didn’t want him gathering me up to comfort me—at that moment, I just wanted him gone.
Ari went to the door of my room and stood there silent for a moment. Finally, he said,
“I’ll come for you around two in the morning. Until then, Saint will be in the next room guarding you. Be ready to go.”
And then he left the room and I was alone with my tears.
91
Kaitlyn
I went to bed and cried until I fell asleep—which felt like hours. I hated myself for the way I had treated Ari, who had only ever been good and kind and loving to me. What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I accept his love? Why couldn’t I accept myself and feel worthy of his love?
But no matter how much I cried or how many pillowcases I ruined with the awful blood tears, I couldn’t find any answers. All I managed to do was dehydrate myself and get so thirsty my throat felt like sandpaper.
Finally I got up and got some water—which helped, though only a little—and went back to bed. I had to be up early, I told myself. As in, the middle of the night. I couldn’t keep this up.
I was so exhausted and miserable by that point, that my eyelids finally, mercifully shut on their own. My last thought was that when Ari came to wake me up, I would apologize to him. It wasn’t his fault that I was scarred by The Fire and couldn’t learn to love myself and accept his love as well. I would tell him I was sorry—that I would try to do better in the future—both in loving him and myself.
But when someone woke me in the middle of the night, it wasn’t Ari at all.
And it was certainly nobody who loved me.
92
Ari
“I don’t understand her—maybe I never will.” I paced in my mother’s chambers, looking at the carpet woven with gold and pink threads as I talked. Within me, my Drake was still roaring with anguish. He also couldn’t understand Kaitlyn’s words—her apparent rejection of our love. Even now he was demanding to come out and be with her, to cuddle with her. He was certain he could make everything all right, if only he could touch her.