Each word flayed him open more surely than Rhy’s wolf teeth had. “Please don’t say any more,” he whispered soundlessly, mostly a prayer to his merciless goddess, but Stella’s keen shapeshifter ears heard him anyway.
She glanced over her shoulder at him, pity in her gaze. “I mean it, Jak. You really are the finest of men.”
“This isn’t helping,” he told her, grateful for the rising anger. Far better than feeling so pitiful in the face of her uncaring rejection. At least she hadn’t called him a boy. This time.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what words will help. All I have is the truth, and that is that I just… don’t feel that way about you.” Her serene face, the clear gray eyes, just a shade darker than the lowering clouds, showed no hint of emotion. “I don’t feel that way about anyone,” she continued remorselessly, holding up her gloved hands in demonstration. “I’m not a person meant to have lovers. I’m meant to live my life alone. That’s the price I pay for my magic, and I pay it gladly.”
“Gladly,” he spat. “I don’t believe you.”
“Maybe not gladly,” she allowed, “but I am at peace with it. I have to be, because that’s who I am. I’m asking you to understand that—and to be my friend anyway.”
“You’re asking an awful lot, Stella,” he shot back, full of unreasoning anger. How she could be so cool, so remote and unfeeling, he simply didn’t understand.
“I know.” Her poise faltered slightly, and he glimpsed some of the turmoil beneath the smooth surface. “And I understand if this is too much to ask. I can sense how you feel about me, the strength of your attachment and—”
“Please stop.” He wiped a hand over his face, unable to bear it a moment longer. Stupid idiot. Of course the empathic object of his unrequited love had sensed it from him. She’d known all along and afforded him the courtesy of pretending not to, until he’d forced the situation. “Can we agree to move on, and never reference this very painful conversation?”
“Of course,” she replied with gentle compassion that was so her—and made everything so much worse.
“Thank you,” he replied with forced dignity. “I’m going inside.”
“You should sleep,” she said to his back as he turned to go. “To complete the healing.”
“I know how it works,” he bit out ungraciously. In fact, he wouldn’t be able to help it, the exhaustion of rapid and deep healing crashing over him. That must be why he felt so much like shit—because Stella crushing his heart was nothing new.
“Jak,” she called after him. “Will you promise me something?”
He paused, not looking back at her. Not wanting to hear it. “What?”
“That when you need help, you’ll ask me for it.”
“Sure,” he said, turning to look at her. “If you’ll promise me the same.”
After a bare moment’s hesitation, she dipped her chin. “I promise.”
“Then I do, too,” he lied. No way was he letting Stella get close to him again. His heart couldn’t take it.
~ 2 ~
Stella held on to her composure with everything in her as she watched Jak go back up the walk to the manse. Tasting leather, she jerked her left little fingers out of her mouth, digging her gloved nails into her palms instead. This was no time to be sucking on her fingers like a child, even if she desperately craved a bit of self-soothing. She was a grown woman, with responsibilities—and one of those was taking care of the situation with Jak. That painful conversation had been a long time coming. No matter how excruciating, at least it was done.
But she still couldn’t take her eyes off of him.
He moved with his usual fluidity again, and she told herself that she was doing her job as a healer by watching. She could even kid herself that she studied his leanly muscled back to be certain his ribs floated properly, their clean lines tapering to his narrow hips, his taut ass in those tight pants flexing as he—She forced herself to turn away and face the lake, blowing out a shuddering breath.
Then, feeling her thighs go to water, she folded into a sitting position, drawing up her knees to wrap her arms around them, struggling to contain the fierce need to weep. The chill of utter loneliness settled over her heart in a gentle snowfall. If only Astar were awake… But her twin would be asleep for a long time. She should know, as she’d put him under.
Besides, Astar was no longer solely hers. He was focused on Zeph now. That was how Astar lived: fully, ardently, and with unconditional commitment to whatever course of action he settled upon. Astar’s attraction to Zeph had always been there, the love he’d refused to consciously acknowledge and tried to imprison with duty and propriety clear to Stella from way back. Now that he’d shed those chains, he’d given himself utterly into Zeph’s keeping, the withdrawal of his deep attachment to his twin a palpable severing. Which was as it should be. Stella wanted that for him. If anyone deserved that kind of love, Astar did.
Stella hadn’t realized how cold and lonely it would leave her, however.
She would learn to live with it. And she’d been meticulous in ensuring that Astar had no inkling she felt so bereft. She’d die before she did anything at all to impinge on Astar’s happiness. And he was so happy, fulfilled and at rest—even when he fought his fear that Zeph would be lost forever—in a way he’d never been before. Stella savored that happiness vicariously, like warming her hands at a fire.
And she would let him go. If she did her job well, he’d never guess at how profoundly her world had changed.
It was just terrible timing that she’d had to separate herself so firmly from Jak at the same time. That was also her own fault, that she’d let the flirtations go too far between them. Much as she envied Astar’s newfound joy—and, oh, how bitter that was, to feel the green monster gnawing at her heart, and about the most important person in the world to her—she had to be realistic and let Jak go. It had been unkind of her not to cut him off before this.
Love and companionship were not in her destiny. She’d seen her fate, and her life path ended always at the same place: a lonely tower in an endless field of lilies.
Much as she longed to take what Jak offered, she couldn’t do that to either of them. Any time she was tempted, she need only look at her own future to see that she never would. That was also as it should be. No need to shed useless tears over it. She’d done the right thing, and now Jak would move his affections to someone who could return them. And when that happened, she’d be happy for him. Just as she was for Astar. Neither of them would ever know how she died a little inside from losing them.
No doubt she felt so morose from the drain of healing, so she withdrew the Star of Annfwn from a pocket of her cloak to rejuvenate herself. The perfectly smooth and round topaz glowed with its own light, as if embedded with a star of its own, even in the gloom of the increasingly thick snowfall. It sang to her native magic, restorative and comforting.
Her relationship with the Star had been evolving since Aunt Andi gave it to her. She’d worked with the magic-focusing jewel before—though always under the sure guiding hand of Andi’s experience and powerful sorcery—but having it in her sole possession had changed things.