Now he only hoped he'd find the strength to push Mira away, when all he wanted was to pull her close and never let her go.
He kept his voice quiet, the words as gentle as he could make them. "This time I do get to decide. Bad enough I couldn't stay away from you, even though I knew damn well where this would take us in the end." He lowered his head and held her searching gaze, needing her to hear him now. She needed to understand. "When I go down, I'll be damned if I take you down with me."
Mira had gone utterly still in front of him. She didn't blink, barely drew breath. "What do you mean, you knew where this would take us in the end?"
Kellan stared into her eyes, those muted mirrors that had cursed him on what had so briefly been a perfect morning eight years ago. Now they looked up at him imploringly, searching for a truth he hoped she'd never need to hear.
"Tell me," she said, a slight tremor in her soft voice. Her anger was gone now, replaced with a gravity - a tangible dread - that caught his heart in a stranglehold. "What did you mean by that, Kellan?" She spoke hardly above a whisper, hardly breathing, for all he could discern. "Tell me what you know, damn it."
He reached for her, but she flinched away from him. Gave a slow shake of her head, her eyes never leaving his. "Tell me."
"That morning," he said, the words coming out of him dry and rusty. "The morning before the warehouse explosion . . ."
"We made love," she murmured.
"Yes."
"We made love for hours, earlier that night too," she said, filling in the blanks when his voice seemed to desert him. "For the first time."
He nodded. "The first time for both of us. It was the best night of my life, Mira. Until a few hours ago when I was with you again, that night eight years ago and the morning I woke up next to you were the best moments I've ever known. I never got the chance to tell you that. I should've said the words then, but I didn't know."
She swallowed, her delicate throat visibly clenching. "You didn't know what?"
"That it was all going to end that night. I didn't know I'd be leaving you so soon. I thought I would have time to explain." He shrugged lamely, shaking his head. "I thought . . . I prayed we'd be able to sort it all out, find a way - somehow - to make it right."
"I don't know what you're saying, Kellan." She scowled even deeper now, and despite her denial that she understood, he could see in her eyes that realization was settling in hard the longer she looked at him. "What happened that morning? Did I do something wrong? Did I say something, or - "
"No. God, no. You didn't do anything wrong." He cupped her jaw in his hand and smoothed the pad of his thumb over her trembling mouth. "You were perfect. You were everything I could've wanted. More than I ever deserved."
"But you left me," she said quietly. "Why, Kellan? The truth this time. Something happened the morning we were together. Something bad enough to make you think I'd be happier believing you were dead in that explosion."
"Ah, Mouse," he murmured, letting his hand travel up from where it caressed her lips, to the Breedmate mark riding at her temple. He stroked the tiny teardrop-and-crescent-moon birthmark, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to each of her eyelids. When he drew back from her, there were tears welling in her eyes. "You see? You would be happier if I'd died that night. And I would rather have left you mourning someone you loved than one day pleading for my life as the traitor I was destined to become."
Her hands came up to his chest, pushed him away. "What are you saying?"
"I saw it, Mira. In your eyes, that morning when we woke up together, na**d in your bed. Your eyes were na**d too. The lenses that mute your visions - "
She sucked in her breath. "No."
"I looked into your eyes, only for a second - "
"No." The denial was short and sharp. She gave a shake of her head, then another, more vehement this time. "No, I don't believe it. I would've known. I would've felt my eyesight weaken afterward. Using my ability always takes a bit of my sight along with it - "
"I know that," he said gently. "And that's the only reason I looked away as quickly as I did. I didn't want you to pay for my inadvertent lack of care. But there was a part of me that could've gotten lost in your na**d gaze forever."
"No!" She gaped at him incredulously, aghast. "You wouldn't have done that. You know better than to look at my eyes when they're unprotected. Everyone knows better than that!"
"I wasn't thinking about your visions or what I might see in your eyes, Mouse. I rolled over that morning to kiss the beautiful woman who'd invited me into her bed and given me more pleasure than I knew was possible. You gave me the sweetest kiss I ever tasted, and then you smiled at me and opened your eyes."
"Oh, God. No, Kellan. Why did you look?" She moaned, a miserable sound that cut him to the marrow. When she turned her head away from him, Kellan brought her back to face him.
"Your eyes are extraordinary, Mira. They're bright as diamonds. Clear and flawless, like crystal pools. In that one fleeting moment that I looked into your gaze, I felt like I was seeing you - all of you - for the first time. And I'd never witnessed anything so beautiful." He caressed her face, wiped away the tear that rolled down her cheek. "That was worth the price. Worth any price fate may make me pay down the line."
"What did you see, Kellan?"
He had little choice but to tell her. "I saw myself, being led before Lucan and the GNC. There were charges against me - capital charges. Conspiracy, murder, treason. They judged me guilty on all counts. And so they sentenced me." He wanted to deliver the words gently, but there was no easy way to tell her what needed to be said. "The sentence was death, Mira. And I saw you there with me, begging for them to spare me. I don't want to think about the pain I saw in you, the grief that all of this will cause you when I'm put to death for my crimes."