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“No. No way. I don't love Aren. I can't because, damn it, I'm not one of those girls, the ones who have two men chasing after them but can't make up their minds who to choose. If you can’t decide who you love more, you don’t love either of them enough.”
“I know,” Aren says. “But I wanted to apologize. I don’t want Taltrayn to convince you I’m the bad guy.”
At that, I give a short laugh. “You are the bad guy, Aren.”
He frowns, and I realize he’s taking my words the wrong way.
“What I mean is you’re the . . . well, the rebel. Kyol’s the good guy. He’s made mistakes, yes, but he loves me.”
He cocks his head to the side. His gaze makes my skin tingle. The step he takes toward me is hesitant, careful, and when his silver eyes peer down at me, I stop breathing. His lips are so close. I remember the way they felt pressed against mine. I remember his taste, the heat of his edarratae.
The smallest distance separates us when he whispers, “You don’t think I’m in love with you?”
“I . . .”
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