“That’s not the way this works, Ronan.” Naya’s curt tone wasn’t doing anything for his escalating temper. “You can’t just show up out of nowhere and demand that your voice be heard. You’re not in the position to change something that hasn’t changed in centuries.”
“For fuck’s sake, Naya! Have you ever considered that your inability to join the twenty-first century is part of the problem?” It happened with supernatural creatures. Hell, Mikhail was still having trouble adjusting to the modern world. “You’re being manipulated by your own people and you’re too damned blind to see it!”
Naya’s jaw took a stubborn set and she palmed the dagger sheathed at her side. Ronan wouldn’t put it past her to use it if she got angry enough. His anger flared that she would treat her own life and safety so carelessly. If he hadn’t been on that pier last night, that monster would have killed her. And she was more than ready to run right back out there and single-handedly take on more of the bastards because a roomful of antiquated bastards said so!
“You have no right to say that! And what I choose to do—what’s my responsibility to do—is none of your gods-damned business.”
Her dark eyes sparked with indignation and her chest heaved with her breath. Ronan took a moment to admire her fierce beauty before he shot back, “You. Are. Mine!”
Her expression fell into blank indifference with the words, a calm before the storm. Gods, he hadn’t intended to say it yet again. Didn’t even want to admit it to himself. He wanted nothing more than to find Chelle and put this miserable place behind him. So why did the thought of Naya belonging to another male send him into such a jealous rage that he had no choice but to assert his ownership of her? Talk about living in an antiquated past. He was such a hypocrite.
“I will protect you, Naya.” It seemed that Ronan couldn’t keep from running off at the mouth. “I won’t stand by while you go out into the night and hunt something that you have no chance of defeating. And likewise, I won’t allow you to be punished by a council of blind fools who are not even male enough to go out and hunt this evil by your side.”
Naya snorted, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Buddy, I was out doing this—on my own—way before I met you. I can hold my own. You don’t know anything about me. What I’m capable of. And I won’t sit here and listen to you not only insult my abilities but undermine them.”
It was true. He knew virtually nothing about her and it rankled. Had she been dhampir, he would have turned her. Had she been a vampire, they would share a history of knowledge of their kind through the Collective. She was neither of those things, though, and it was stupid to keep falling back on it as an excuse. They were tethered. Ronan’s soul knew hers. That should have been all that mattered.
But gods damn it, it wasn’t good enough.
“You could have died!” he railed.
“And if I can’t stop whatever this is, and find the source of the magic that’s causing it, you’re going to die as well!” Silence followed on the heels of Naya’s emphatic words. Her eyes met his, shining with unspoken emotion. She let out a slow sigh and her voice became soft and sad. “There’s something inside of you, Ronan, and I don’t know how to banish it. It might be dormant now, but it won’t be for long. And when it truly wakes, it won’t stop until it’s clawed its way out. Paul, Joaquin, they’ll kill you if I don’t. How can you possibly expect me to sit by and not do something—anything—to protect you just like you want to protect me?”
Her worry echoed his own. At least they were on the same page about one thing. He’d felt that force within him tonight. Clawing, scratching, expanding inside of him, and anxious to be let loose. If that happened, what then? Would he turn into a monster as well? Kill his mate? Despair choked the air from his lungs and Ronan crossed the sparse living room to where Naya had collapsed onto the couch.
“If that happens,” he said, his gaze unwavering, “you kill me.”
He’d rather die than see any harm come to her. Especially at his own hand.
She let out a soft snort. “If you think I could possibly do that, you’re kidding yourself, Ronan. I can’t even make myself leave the room when you’re in it.”
Ronan sat down beside her and let his head fall back on the cushion. He stared up at the pattern of plaster on the ceiling. The sun would be up soon and he’d be forced to sleep while Naya faced the firing squad over everything that went down tonight. Gods, he’d waited so long to become a vampire, and now he felt nothing but disdain for the weakness that would keep him from her until the sun set once again.