He dwindled off, twisting the sheets. “Does any of that sound familiar?”

Pieces slotted into place, all making perfect sense now I knew.

Jethro was explosive because he felt everything so much more. He rode Wings a lot to outrun the emotional upheaval forced on him by living with men like Cut and Daniel. He kept switching alliances between his father and me, unable to make a decision when faced with two personalities. He turned inward and festered when everything became too much. He shut down when he’d reached his limit and was so damn cold when we first met as it was the only way he could survive.

“The tablets, they were to—”

“Block the over-sensory perception. To numb me.” He fisted the duvet. “They worked while you weren’t here. In fact, they were the first thing in my life that actually gave me silence.” He smirked. “But then you came back with your screaming feelings and battering ram of ideals and tore that apart.”

My heart beat faster. “So when we slept together at the polo match…when I asked if you knew what I was feeling…”

He sighed. “I told you the truth. I knew. I felt your need, your sadness, your confusion. You’d fallen for me, but you weren’t happy about it. I bore your worry as if it were my own, but I also basked in the love you had.”

Leaning forward, he cupped my cheek. “I’d never felt so much emotion from anyone. You selflessly gave me something warm and safe and so fucking delicious to hide in. There were no conditions or commands—you were fully open, letting me inside.”

His eyes darkened. “It killed me to think you were still unsure. That you could feel such a way but not want it.”

I leaned into his palm. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be. I’ve had this curse all my life.” He gathered me close, nuzzling into me. “I’ve never let myself give in. But before, when I slid inside you, I stopped fighting. I did what Jasmine told me to do. I let myself drown in what you feel for me. And fuck, it was the best thing I’ve ever felt.”

My heart cast into a never-ceasing knot. “And Jasmine told you to do that?”

He dropped his gaze. “Jaz has been researching my condition ever since I was diagnosed. She read somewhere that Empaths who remain single and cloistered from society don’t have long life expectancies. Others slowly chip us away, until one day, it’s too much. I swore to her that I would never find love. That the agony I had from loving her as my sister was enough to swear me off ever marrying. But she showed me another article about Empaths who do find their perfect others. They live longer than most because they no longer have to fight on their own.”

His hand never stopped stroking, his body tense but happy.

I asked, “What does that mean?”

His eyes became hazy, dreamy. “It means we rely on the person we love to love us so much in return that we can forever hide in their adoration and acceptance. Knowing there’s a well of immeasurable affection helps heal us if we encounter a mourning mother or psychotic serial killer. We can stay level—or at least better than we would if we’re alone.”

“So when Jasmine yelled at me for hurting you and cursed herself for destroying you—that’s what she meant?”

His forehead furrowed. “When did you see Jasmine?”

Whoops.

“Doesn’t matter. Is that what she meant?”

Jethro scowled but nodded. “Exactly. She pushed me into making you fall for me. In fact, just before the polo match, she told me to stop fighting and make you love me. To forget about the debts and inheritances and find something far more precious.”

I couldn’t speak.

“She told me to find my cure in you, Nila. She saw what I couldn’t. She hoped for something I never dared dream of. She taught me that love can be the cruellest force imaginable, but it also heals.”

He pressed a kiss reverently on my lips. “I’m done fighting. You’re mine and I'm yours, and now you know everything there is to know about me. Now you know I’m broken and can never be cured. Now you know why I am the way I am.”

IT WAS DONE.

Out in the open.

My disease verbalized and acknowledged.

And she hadn’t run.

She hadn’t looked at me with pity or disgust. She’d accepted it and loved me even more.

Her emotions came in crashes, echoing in my soul. By being honest, I’d given her answers. And with answers came freedom to give in and trip from new love into forever love.

I wanted to crush her to me and never let go. I wanted to get on my fucking knees and thank her for the rest of my days for being brave enough to accept me.

Life together hadn’t been smooth. Our past was full of debts and degradation. Our future—if we even had a future—would be full of miscommunication and misunderstanding.

I’m not an easy person to love.

I knew that. Kestrel knew that. Jasmine knew that. There were times when I was too much. When their good intentions just weren’t enough and I’d have to leave to regroup on my own.

I could never hate them for that—for needing timeout from dealing with a fucked-up brother. But Nila…she would be drained of everything. I would take and take and take until that blistering, joyous love would turn to putrid ash.

Can I do that to her?

Could I suck her dry and hope to God she was strong enough to save us both?

Do I have any right to expect her to?