I sucked in a sharp breath, stumbling upon the memory of when he asked Amory for my hand in marriage. They stood together in Amory’s office, both happy and excited for the future the two of them talked about. Amory practically raised Kiran, I could feel the way Kiran looked up to him, admired him, thought of him like a father. It meant everything to Kiran to have Amory’s blessing, and Amory had trained Kiran for just this moment. He gave Kiran his approval with the firm belief that Kiran and I would change everything, that together we would destroy Lucan. I felt Kiran keep his secret from Amory, leaving out the details about Avalon’s part in everything, but there was the determination in his heart to save Avalon once we were married, once we were united and in Kiran’s mind, invincible.

I moved on, away from the painful moments with my grandfather to even worse moments as, in hopeless agony, Kiran watched Amory die and with the death of his mentor came the loss of the only thing in his life that made this battle worth it: me. I felt his anguish, and guilt, I became consumed with the devastating grief of the next month and felt his health decline with the absence of my magic as ours had become so intertwined, so dependent on each other. I felt him give up on life and welcome death, but then I was there, next to him, saving his life and he knew that all was not lost. He knew there was still hope for us.

My heart stopped beating and my chest tightened in a vice-grip against my lungs, still I pressed forward through his mind. He began to form his own plans of how to dethrone his father and how to end the tyranny through our interactions in India and Morocco. He tried desperately to get me back, suffered every moment we were apart, or together, and didn’t have my love. Morocco gave him hope, until the Dream Walk, when I sat on the hill not even acknowledging him.

Through it all, he began to develop a relationship with Avalon. Slowly they became friends; trust blossomed between them and then the plans to save the kingdom developed naturally. If Kiran couldn’t have me, he would end his life in sacrifice so that I could have freedom. I turned my head into my shoulder with the feeling flooding my body that everything Kiran did, he did it for me. His love for me, his undying resolve to live his life dedicated to me nearly swept me away with his intensity.

The plan he and Avalon concocted was simple but ingenious. Kiran had somehow talked Seraphina and Sebastian into helping and the three of them decided that in order to get Avalon out of the Citadel, someone would need to go up against Lucan. That person would, of course, be Kiran. Kiran would fight his father, knowing without my magic he would die. Seraphina and Sebastian, in the confusion that would accompany a fight between father and son, was tasked with helping Avalon escape. Kiran’s ultimate sacrifice, his death to save my brother.

But then I showed up and ruined their plan, made Kiran’s life invariably longer and now he was faced with me. He would have to live his life, daily being reminded that he lost my love, that he ruined my life. The heartache alone was more than he could bear. And in his head, it was more than I could cope with.

Heartache. That indescribable look. The one that had started to make me feel guilty…. He was heartbroken. He looked at me with longing, desperate desire and knowing that I still didn’t want him. I shook my head and focused on his memories.

He told me he didn’t love me to help me, to help make my days easier. And a small part of him hoped that he would move on, too. But then I lost my magic and became so fragile, so mortal that he knew it was impossible. His love for me would never die. He would live his life in penance to me, working every day for my forgiveness, knowing he could never have it.

I gasped at his journey to find Avalon, to seek out the Resistance and become a part of it. I lay at the castle, magic-less and in constant threat of death and he joined the Rebellion. I felt every bit of agony as the tattoo was administered under his earlobe and his fight against Avalon to come back to me before Avalon thought he was ready. In his heart he had joined the rebellion months earlier, but after I came to the Citadel there hadn’t been time for him to get away. He made time, and suffered through the after effects without help just to stay near to me. He finally made his decision real, but not before he made every single person, including my parents and Avalon promise not to tell me. He demanded that it remain a secret. In his mind, he didn’t deserve being thought of kindly. If he was going to earn back my forgiveness, it would be as before he lost it. It would be as the same man I fell in love with.

Only he wasn’t the same man. He had evolved into someone even better than that man. A selfless man, willing to sacrifice himself not just for me, but for the kingdom that he believed deserved independence.

Back in his mind, I felt him watch me daily, trying to be the person he thought deserved me, struggling to keep me safe and in the dark about who he really was. I flipped through the rest of our history; his lust at the pond when we went swimming, his consuming affection when we danced at the Summer Solstice Celebration, the way he fell impossibly more in love with me that night in the gardens, his jealousy with Sebastian every moment until Sebastian admitted his feelings for Seraphina, the way he hoped he still had a chance with me when we spent time in Paris, his anger every time he watched me with Jericho, but his determination to let me be happy no matter which path I chose, his fury while I was kidnapped, his devastating resolve to get me back, to avenge Amory’s death and the future in his mind, after his father was dead, the excitement he had in the way he knew I would rule the kingdom. And through it all, his missions underneath the castle, freeing prisoners, meeting Avalon in the late hours of the night, plotting with us against his father, fighting for freedom…. And through it all, it was me that spurred him forward.

He loved me. No, he more than loved me; every beat of his heart was dedicated to me. I had broken him, but he woke every day with the desire to become a more worthy man for me. I started to shove further into his feelings, obsessed with getting to the bottom of every minute detail when he finally found the strength to push me out of his head.

Our minds separated with forceful closure. I stood a few feet away from him, trembling and distraught. Our emotions had been one and the same and now that we were disconnected I couldn’t distinguish his from mine. My blood rushed hot with his consuming love, with his adamant devotion. And when I dared to meet his eyes, they were like an open book, raw and ravenous with love for me.

I moved forward before I could analyze my actions and threw myself down on him, desperate to return his desire with what I was sure was left over remnants of being in his mind. My blood pumped with his consuming craving, my heart beat with the pounding love he felt for me, my ears rang with the desperate longing that plagued him. I straddled myself across his lap and gathered the collar of his shirt in both my hands. My breathing was heavy and my heart beat violently against my chest. I stared into his eyes for only a moment, noticing their hope, their anticipation, before pressing my mouth against his and letting him take me away in his desire.

He kissed me passionately, in a way I had never been kissed before. He tilted his body to mold against mind, tangling his hands through my hair and pressing me against him. My stomach jumped at his fervor, his unrelenting hunger. He sighed against my lips, an exhale of breath that made his chest heave.

I moved my hands from his shirt to caress his face and I felt him shiver under my touch. I kissed him bravely, deeply, his emotions still mixed with mine and I couldn’t distinguish what I was feeling and what were leftovers from him. My mouth moved against his, mimicking his passion and I wrapped my arms around his neck. His magic flared to life at my willingness, at my reciprocated desire and found mine almost aggressively, forcing it to mingle.

With my magic out of control and wrapped solidly in his, Kiran stood up, my legs still wrapped around his waist and his mouth refusing to leave mine. He laid me gently on the couch, slowly bringing his body down to mine. His hands moved over my skin, finding my waist and slipping under my tank top, pulling my body up to meet his and then pressing his back against mine and deep into the couch.

My hands moved against his shirt, tugging at the hem and lifting it over his head. Our lips separated for only a moment before he brought his mouth crashing against mine again, his feverishly hot skin blanketing my bear arms, sending tremors down my spine.

I gasped for air and so he let me breathe, kissing my jaw line and my ear, working his way down my neck and across my collarbones to the other side of my neck and back up. I shivered against his kisses, my magic lost in his, but slowly, methodically I came back to my senses.

Our magics were still mixed, but his emotions were almost absent from mine and reality came hurtling against my brain, demanding to know what I was doing.

Kiran’s kisses had slowed, but not out of exhaustion. No, these kisses were even more dangerous. He worked his way across my jaw, finding the corner of my mouth and then kissing me fully on the lips, slowly, seductively. I gave in for a second more, playfully biting his lower lip gently and opening my mouth for a deeper kiss. He groaned desperately, pressing his forehead against mine as his mouth worked in enticing, tormenting kisses, begging for more. His hands moved up my stomach, taking my tank top with it and I snapped back to reality, realizing in full what I had done.

I tensed at his movement, my mouth retracting from his with fear. He pulled back from me, instantly understanding my mood change. He hovered over me, his eyes changing from frantic passion to overwhelming heartache.

I ignored the breaking of my own heart, the cold that seeped into my bones at his absence. He moved off me, allowing me to pull down my shirt and sit up, scooting to the other side of the couch. Tears pounded against my eyelids, but I shook my head, determined not to reveal how truly affected I was.

“I…. I’m sorry,” I whispered, and he recoiled painfully at my words. “I shouldn’t have done that to you, and then the kiss….” I explained weakly, knowing full well the word “kiss” could not even begin to describe the passion he poured into me.

“Don’t, Eden,” he winced, his voice harsh and raspy.

“No, Kiran listen, I just…. I shouldn’t have done that to your mind…. And I shouldn’t have kissed you. I could just feel everything you were feeling and it overwhelmed me….” I rushed on; hoping to make him understand those weren’t my real feelings.

“Please stop,” he begged, looking up at the ceiling and raking both hands through his hair.

“I just want you to understand, that…. That obviously I just broke up with Jericho…. I still have feelings for him and I don’t…. I don’t feel that way about you….” I dug for the courage to look at him, to meet his eyes, but he wouldn’t look at me.

“Enough,” he growled and stood up. He lunged for his t-shirt that was behind my head. I cowered underneath him, hating that I could smell him, hating that my stomach jumped as I inhaled him. But he didn’t linger, he got his shirt and stalked toward the door.

At the door he pulled his shirt over his head, the muscles in his back rippling with the effort and then yanked the door open. I pulled my knees to my chest in a gut reaction and flinched when he turned back to face me. “You’re wrong, by the way,” he stated simply and then slammed the door behind him.