he said, turning away from me in disgust.

“Marc, I…I don’t know what to say.” I stood, searching my mind frantically for something that would make him happy without lying to him. Because the truth was that I didn’t know whether or not I would stay past the two and a half years I’d agreed on. I didn’t know if I had a future with Marc, because I didn’t know whether or not I had a future with the Pride, and I knew he wouldn’t go with me if I left again. We’d been down that road once before; it led to me fleeing the ranch the night before our wedding, the summer I turned eighteen.

I couldn’t do that to him again. Or to me.

“You’re not just a convenient warm body,” I said, moving toward him with my arms open. He frowned in suspicion but let me wrap my arms around him and lay my head on his chest. I ran my hands over him, soothed by the smell of his skin and the feel of his flesh. He relaxed just a little and returned my embrace, his chin brushing my temple. “If that’s al I wanted, I’d be with—” I murmured.

Marc stiffened in my arms, and I froze, cursing myself silently. Why couldn’t I learn when to just shut up?

He stepped away, and in his eyes was a distant, bitter chill. He grabbed my arms in a bruising grip. “What do you want, Faythe?” he growled, al traces of warmth gone from his face. Now there was only anger. “Just this once, tell me exactly what you want from me.”

“I want what we have right now,” I said, determined not to let on that his grip hurt.

“That’s it?” He dropped my arms, gaping at me in suspicion and fresh pain. “You want what we have now?” He repeated my words slowly, carefully, as if analyzing them for hidden meaning. “What if the status quo isn’t enough for me? What if I want more?”

“We’re perfect together the way we are.” I reached for him, staring into his eyes. “Why change anything?”

He captured my wrist and drew my fingers firmly from his face. “Life changes things, Faythe. You’ve changed things by infecting Andrew, even if you didn’t mean to. You can’t expect us to remain the same any more than you can expect time to stand still. You either adjust to the changes and move along with the times, or you get left behind. So which is it going to be? Are you going to let us evolve, or are you going to leave us behind?”

I shook my head, trying to clear it. “I don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Damn it, Faythe, yes you do!” He dropped my hand and turned around, bending to snatch my desk chair from the floor. The wood groaned beneath his hands, and I watched the muscles of his back tense and gather, as he wrestled with whatever he was preparing to say.

Finally, I wrapped my arms around his waist and molded myself against him.

He let go of the chair and when he turned, his face was an odd mixture of anger, hope, and determination. “I can’t let you team up with Jace without some kind of reassurance.”

I blinked. “You can’t let me?”

“You know what I mean.”

Yeah, and I didn’t like it one bit. I’d already apologized for bringing Andrew into our lives. And I was more than wil ing to pamper Marc through a little insecurity. But beyond that, he was being completely unreasonable. None of this had anything to do with Jace. “You don’t trust me?”

He arched one eyebrow. “Would you trust you?”

Okay, he had a point there. I’d left him at the altar. Apparently I was never going to live that one down. “What kind of reassurance do you want?”

“A promise.” Eyes swimming in vulnerability, he dug into his right pocket and pulled out a ring. “Marry me, Faythe. Say you’ll marry me.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

My heart thudded in panic as I stared at the ring. I backpedaled so fast I fell on my ass beside the bed, and still I retreated, crawling from the shiny silver band between his thumb and forefinger as if it were connected to the pin in a grenade, rather than to his heart.

One was just as dangerous as the other.

“You’re overreacting, Faythe.” Marc scowled as he hauled me up by one arm. He sat on the side of my bed and pulled me next to him, our legs touching from knee to hip. “It’s not an engagement ring. See?” He held it up to the light for my inspection. “It’s silver, not gold. And there’s no stone. So no one has to know.”

I looked. And looked. And still my fear refused to retreat. “I don’t understand.”

He smiled, and his eyes held so much hope, so much heartbreaking, soul-bruising anticipation. “This isn’t for show. It’s a private promise, just for me. The ring’s sized for your ring finger because that’s the only one I knew, but you can wear it on your right hand, if you want. Or on a chain around your neck. I don’t care where. And we don’t have to tell anyone.

Even your dad. I just need to know you’re serious about this. About us.”

“Marc…” I stil stared at the ring, trying not to notice the carving of a delicate ivy vine snaking its way around the band. As badly as I hated to admit it, the ring was…pretty.

Damn it.

He sighed. “I’m not asking you to marry me tomorrow. Or even next year. I’m just asking you to tell me it’ll happen someday. Promise me I’m not just wasting my time. Show me. Please.”

“I can promise that without wearing a ring,” I pointed out, with what seemed to me to be absolutely flawless logic.