My stomach grumbled in agreement. “What did you have in mind?”
“I hear Decker’s does a delicious breakfast.”
The season was shifting from summer to fall, and the sea air was chillier than usual as we made our way down the cliffside path to the beach below. I’d pulled my hair up into a messy bun, donned a T-shirt, jeggings, and sneakers, and thrown on a baggy cardigan to complete my ensemble.
The last time I’d seen Dillon was at my impromptu dinner party. My attempt at normality hadn’t gone quite to plan to start with but had ended with everyone seemingly getting on and having a good time.
He didn’t know about the Faelad attack, about the deaths, or what had happened to me in Faerie. It would be good to fill him in.
Tate led the way, his broad back a barrier against the worst of the gusty wind. He looked good in jeans and a navy knitted sweater. The wind riffled through his wavy locks, picking them up and teasing them with invisible fingers, and for a moment I longed to be back on the sofa in his home at Swiftwood, hairbrush and bowl of hair ties in hand while I played with his locks and put them into bunches.
A simpler time. A safer time.
But that would mean giving up what we had now. It would mean giving up the Faoladh and the friends I’d made in Hawthorne. It would mean giving up my new home.
Home.
A warm kernel of joy expanded in my chest, one not even the guilt of my awful action the other night could quell. How could I feel happy after killing someone?
We hit the beach and Tate slipped his hand into mine as naturally as breathing. I looked up to find his gaze on me, warm and loving.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“I’m thinking I must be fucked up.”
“Why?”
“Because I feel happy.” I pressed my lips together, ashamed of the admission.
Tate drew me to a halt and tipped my chin up with the crook of his finger, nudging me to look at him. “You’re allowed to feel happy, Quinn.”
“I killed a man.”
“You were tricked. That wasn’t your fault. You need to forgive yourself.”
“That’s what she said.”
“The taint?”
“Yes. She said I needed to let go of the guilt and that humans didn’t matter.”
Tate nodded. “She wants you to let go of your humanity. To view humans as lesser. To feel superior and entitled.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you?”
I stared at him in horror. “God, no.”
“Forgiving yourself doesn’t mean forgetting what happened. You can make amends by protecting the humans of this town.”
“Pay for what I did…” The weight on my chest lifted slightly.
“Yes.”
I couldn’t change what had happened. I couldn’t bring my victim back to life, but I could make sure that no other human fell prey to the taint’s schemes again.
“Thank you, Tate.”
He brushed his lips across mine, leaving a sweet ache in the wake of the almost kiss.
I smiled up at him. “Can we go back to bed after we eat?”
His hazel eyes darkened. “I suppose moving to pack land can wait a few hours.”
Decker’s was busier than I expected for a weekday morning. Several tables were taken by supernaturals enjoying a hearty breakfast, some of which was undoubtedly not human fare.
A cocktail of aromas greeted me, coffee being the most potent. My gaze went to the bar, searching for Dillon. I found him staring back, gaze already zeroed in on me.
His shoulders dropped in what seemed like relief before he rounded the bar and wove his way toward us.
“You’re okay.” His gaze tracked over me. “I was worried.”
“I thought you might have been,” Tate said. “We have a lot to fill you in on. Do you have somewhere more private we can go?”
Dillon nodded. “Of course. We can go up to my flat.” He led us through the bar, raising a hand toward the bar guy on duty as we passed. “Send up a selection from the breakfast menu and a pot of coffee too.”
“You got it, boss,” bar guy said.
We followed Dillon out of the bar and up the stairs to his rooms. The last time I’d come here, Dillon’s ex had shown up with some crazy revelations, the biggest of which was their genesis. Dillon was an Atlantean. A race of people from the stars who’d settled on this planet. I was still wrapping my head around that, but it also turned out that by saving my life undersea, Dillon had soul bonded with me, a process that would make me immortal if I went to Atlantis and took part in a special ceremony within the month. If I didn’t, then Dillon lost his immortality. I was more than willing to do the ceremony, but Dillon was against it, not just because it could prove to be dangerous, but because he wanted to be mortal. He wanted to die.
My soulmate was an ancient god who wanted nothing more than to live a human life. The least I could do was give him that.
Still, the thought of Dillon dying made my stomach knot. We barely knew one another and yet there was a connection between us that defied social familiarity. It was a visceral, mystical thing that simply existed, leaving us completely at ease with one another.
Dillon unlocked the door to his rooms and pushed it open, stepping back so we could enter.
It was the same open-plan space I recalled. Bare floorboards, threadbare rugs, and huge windows to let in the sea view.
“Sit,” Dillon said. “Food will be here shortly.”
I picked a spot on the sofa, kicked off my sneakers, and curled my legs up, getting comfortable.
Tate took the spot beside me, his hand going to my feet and absently massaging them.
Dillon joined us, taking the armchair opposite. His gaze flicked to Tate’s hand at my feet, then to the sea view. He took a breath and slowly sat back in his seat. When he looked my way again, it was with a smile.
“So, tell me everything,” he said.
I filled him in on the Faelad attack, on the trip to Faerie, and what the Dagda had said to me, but I faltered at the part about Willow and the man I’d killed.
“Quinn?” Dillon sat forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs. “What is it?”
I took a deep breath and blurted out the words. “I killed an innocent human.”
I expected a gasp of horror or something, but Dillon continued to watch me, waiting for me to continue, as if he was certain there was more. The vise around my chest eased.
“It was an accident. I thought he was an intruder, a stalker who’d broken into my friend’s home, but…”
“Willow manipulated her,” Tate continued for me. “She orchestrated it so that Quinn broke into a human’s home and the result was his death.”
“Oh, Quinn…” The compassion on Dillon’s face made my eyes heat. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through. But it wasn’t your fault. You know that, right?”
Tate had said the same thing to me a few moments ago, and my mind had accepted his words, but when Dillon said it, my body responded, relaxing as a calming warmth spread through my veins.
“I know. I’m dealing with it.”
“And I’m here if you need to talk, anytime.”
There was a knock at the door and Dillon tore his gaze from me as he crossed the room to answer it. He returned with a large tray laden with food and a coffee pot he placed on the table between us before fetching mugs.