Cal curses himself in every language he knows, using every single foul word he has ever learned. And there are many. He's nearly two hundred thousand years old, has been to hundreds of thousands of different worlds and picked up all of their languages. It's a good thing his mind processes information as fast as it does or he might never stop cursing himself.

His self control just... slipped when she kissed him. And he was keeping it together so well before that. Even through all the images going through his head, all the images involving Silveeira, the multiple counters in the room, and a lack of clothing.

And his tongue all over her body.

He's not proud of his thoughts, at all. It's Silveeira for the sake of the stars. He was there the day she was born! He practically watched her grow up. It doesn't matter that she's a fully grown adult now, and that she inherited most of her father's genes when it comes to her body. It doesn't matter what he wants to do to her, because he can't. Because she's this sweet girl that he actually knows, that is a part of his family, she's Den's daughter. She isn't just someone he can take to bed and be done with.

He would kill anyone who did that to her. He can't be the one to do it.

Stars, this is a mess.

It really was a bad idea to pour the water over her. He didn't realize how thin that dress is, or that she wasn't wearing anything underneath it.

It also doesn't help knowing how much she wants him. If she wasn't interested, all of this would have been so much easier.

He shouldn't have accepted her challenge and dried her off. That was a bad idea. It was tempting his already precarious self control.

And then she kissed him, pressing her still somewhat wet body against his. He just... snapped.

And of course -- of course -- Den had to show up just to remind Cal to feel like an utter bastard. Because that's exactly what he is.

He can't have Silveeira, because he isn't planning on keeping her. He can't keep her. He's never going to be able to offer her what she needs, what she deserves. He can't give her his heart. All he has to offer is his body and his time... and the shattered pieces of his soul. He still hasn't succeeded in picking them all up.

It isn't fair to her. Stars. Why did she have to fall in love with him? Why couldn't she have chosen someone better? Someone worthy of her?

Why didn't Den punch him? It would have made things so much easier if he'd punched him. It might have even helped Cal sort through the mess of his thoughts.

No, instead he had to in his round about way give his blessing. Because Den is also a bastard.

And he knows that it'll be worse for Cal to not get punched.

Why? Why are they so inexplicably drawn to each other's spawn?

At least Den loved Yesmine, was capable of it. Even if she never knew that he did. Even if he never got the chance to tell her.

Cal is sure that some fundamental part of Yesmine knew.

But Silveeira?

Cal isn't capable of it. Not yet.

He's still trying to mend himself. His wounds are too deep for them to be healed so quickly. Helena was his soul. She was his heart.

And she's gone. And he couldn't do anything to save her. He was forced to watch them hurt her and ultimately kill her. Powerless.

He couldn't save the woman that meant more to him than his own life. He couldn't protect his own family. How is he supposed to deal with that? He's been trying to, but he's not very good at it.

It's why he lies. Because he can't deal any other way, and people can't handle him broken.

His emotions, the true ones, are too much for them. It scares people. Den is the only one who has been able to look at Cal's true face and not turn away.

Silveeira... he doesn't even understand why she loves him. He's rarely honest with her, rarely gives her any glimpse of truth. And she knows that, but doesn't care. She lives for those rare moments where he gives her that small insight into who he really is, or rather, the broken version of who he really is.

She's determined, and stubborn, and smart, and far too good to be stuck with him while he's in this state, while he's still picking up the pieces.

Of course, Helena once thought the exact same thing about him.

He needs Silveeira to understand that he can't give her what she needs, what she deserves...

At least not yet.

There is a very real chance that someday, someday in the very distant future Cal could be someone who falls in love with Silveeira. Once he's able to piece himself together again.

But not yet.

He isn't that version of himself yet.

Which is why he kept trying to dissuade her, why he tried to get himself fifty thousand years to sort through the mess inside him.

But she didn't feel like giving him that time. Not that she's aware he needs it.

Cal notices when Silveeira slips off the counter and tries to slip out the door as if she's invisible, her fists clenched and a tangle of hair hiding her crimson face, even though her spine is stiff and her shoulders back, head high.

Cal catches her around the waist as she walks past him, thinking he didn't see her. He's really too good at pretending. Too good at lying.

She squeaks in surprise and avoids looking at him.

Cal takes her chin in his hand and tilts her face to his, his other arm around her waist, holding her to him.

What's the point in pretending anymore? He wants her. He's very attracted to her.

And she's hurt.

He never was capable of discouraging her by hurting her. The fact is he wants to take his sword to anyone who would dare hurt her. Even if that person is him.

Silveeira's eyes are red-rimmed like she's fighting not to cry. Cal continues cursing himself.

It's so hard to drop the masks after all these years wearing them. He's been wearing them for roughly fifty thousand years. It's not so easy to let them drop for anyone but Den.

"Silver," he says, "I don't want to hurt you."

She folds her arms over her chest. "Then stop," she says, her voice coming out a bit weaker than she obviously meant it to.

He looks deeply into her amber eyes like he can see through her, because he has. He knows her thoughts almost as well as his own.

After a minute, her hands ball into fists again. "Why--" a breath, her mouth thinning out. "Why did you kiss me back if it doesn't even matter to you -- if you're not affected and you don't want me at all?" There those thoughts are. "Why do that to me? It's not fair. You can't pretend that you don't--" her breath hitches, "that you don't know how I feel." Those tears threaten in her eyes, but there's anger in those depths too.

Good, she needs to get it all out.

He could easily have answered all her doubts and insecurities without her needing to ask, but that doesn't help her vent. She needs to vent.

"I would have already taken you to my bed if it didn't matter at all, if I was unaffected and if I didn't care about you. The only reason I haven't is because I do care about you, and taking you to my bed wouldn't be fair. Because I can't offer you anything else. It's because I know how you feel that I can't do that to you, Silver. My heart is dead. It hasn't been kickstarted back to life yet, and I don't know if it ever will. My soul is shattered, and I still haven't succeeded in putting it back together. I cannot give you anything but my body, not while I haven't figured out how to live again yet. I'm not there. I won't be there for a very long time. That isn't fair to you. You need someone who can love you back. I won't just treat you like any other woman, because you're not. That's why I don't look at you like that, why I don't let you know how much I do want to kiss you, or how much I want to make you writhe beneath me." Her blush depends, her eyes widening. It's a good thing she can't read his mind. The poor girl won't know what to do with herself... "Because letting you know the extent of how much I want to touch you is what isn't fair. Because that's all I can give you. And I care too much about you for that to be all."

Silveeira eyes him for a long moment, her breathing uneven. "Are you done babbling now?" She asks when she composes herself the slightest bit.

"I'm not babbling, Silver, I'm serious."

"Uh huh," she waves him off. "Idiot," she shakes her head. "Eilon, when have I ever asked for any of that from you? The only thing I've ever asked is that you stop treating me like a child -- stop doing things like that just now." She looks frustrated. "The only way you hurt me is when you lie like that. Because sometimes I can tell, and sometimes I can't, and it hurts. I love you just the way you are, pieces and all," she pokes his chest, "and I don't care what you think about it or how long it takes you to pick them up or whether or not you want my help. If I was going to stop loving you, it would've happened a long time ago, so don't say things like that -- like you think I can just go and find someone else and pretend that my heart doesn't belong to you."

And therein is exactly where Cal's problem lies. His heart still belongs to Helena. Even though she's been dead for over fifty thousand years. And because of that, because he hasn't been able to make room for anyone else in there yet, there isn't a way this works out for Silveeira.

She's not broken, she can still make room in her heart for someone else. Her father is a great example of how that is done.

"I just..." she rubs her face wearily in a gesture that is undeniably Den. "I just want you to be honest with me, Eilon. I just... need you to do that." She looks up at him, her expression kind of vulnerable. He hates that, hates that he's the reason for it. Why couldn't this be simpler? Why does everything have to be complicated for him? "I'm not going anywhere. I've got a lifetime of forever to wait for you, and I don't mind doing it." Until the cruel universe takes her away as well. The thought rises unbidden, but Cal has lost too many people for it to stay down. He doesn't believe that he'll ever get to keep someone ever again. Other than Den, that is. "But if you... if you're really..."

She pauses and takes a breath, swallowing like she's steeling herself for something. "If you really want to try, to get to that 'yet', then I need you to be honest with me -- stop pretending, stop thinking I can't take it because I can. I love you, all of you -- even the parts I don't know yet." She smiles a little, holding her breath as if waiting for him to reject her.

Cal brushes his hand through her hair, cupping the back of her head. "Honesty doesn't come easily to me anymore," he says. "I'm not sure who I am underneath the masks anymore. I don't know how to keep them off around other people anymore. I can't promise you that I'm going to be honest all the time. I can't remember how to be that way."

She leans into his touch, her hands resting on his chest. "Just... promise you'll try," she says, biting her lip. "And we'll figure it out. Just... no more deliberately being a jerk." She shoves his chest a little and Cal gives her a very dry look.

She's obviously not used to actual jerks if she thinks that was him deliberately trying to be one. He was actually trying not to be one.

He must be more of a jerk than he realized.

"I've never been a jerk to you deliberately, Silver," he says dryly.

She gives him a dry look in return. "Let me rephrase that, then." She clears her throat and frowns at him seriously. "No more deliberately lying to me."

"I can't promise that," he says simply. "But I can promise to try and be more honest with you. Baby steps."

Silveeira makes a thoughtful sound, then nods. "Okay," she agrees, smiling a little.

Cal nods. "Good. Now, I would kiss you, but I'm pretty sure your father is eavesdropping, and it would be so much more satisfying describing, in very graphic detail, the things I want to do to you instead."

Her eyes widen a little, and the blush has returned full force.

"Like for instance, that nightgown of yours has to go," Cal starts, his voice dropping low, the hand around her waist moving to her hip, trailing the length of her side. "Perhaps with my teeth... seems like a good way to remove clothing." Silver's eyes are very wide, and her breath heaves, like she's struggling to get enough air into them. "Then I'd let my mouth trail all along your neck," his fingers brush against the areas he plans on kissing, "down your collarbone," his fingers brush there, "over your breas--"

Den clears his throat and then tweaks Cal's ear. "Not in the kitchen," he says. Silveeira is glowing a brilliant red now, completely mortified.

So he really is a bastard.

But, it would have been worse for her if he'd gone with his initial plan and took her against the counter, while her father could hear.

This is better.

Cal smirks at Den, releasing Silveeira. "Not in the kitchen while you are home. Got it." Her knees buckle, and Cal catches her again, giving her a very amused look.

She tries to glare at him, but it's like a kitten trying to be fierce with that blush on her face -- and the way she's clinging to him.

Den sighs, rubbing his face. "Gyira," he reminds Cal. "I'm not saving you."

"I was married to Helena for forty thousand years, I think I can handle your wife," Cal says, arching a brow at his friend, giving him a smile that's sad around the edges.

Den releases a breath that might be a laugh. "I'll put in a good word for you... maybe." He takes a loaf of bread from the basket on the counter. "I just came for this, actually." He points at Cal. "Don't push your luck." He drops through a portal again.

"Told you he was eavesdropping," Cal says simply, flicking Silveeira's nose.

"Ugh," she mutters and drops her head against his chest. She's silent for a while before she peeks up at him, her face flaming again. She's biting her lip, and the image is both adorable and distracting at the same time. "Would you really..." she takes a breath, "do all of that...?" Her blush reddens further the longer she holds his gaze.

Cal debates whether to be a nice guy, or tease her....

Decisions...

He lowers his head, bringing his mouth to her ear. "Maybe," he whispers into it, and nips the lobe of her earguard before pulling back. She shivers, her hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt. "What else?" She asks.

Cal gives her a very amused grin. She has no idea what any of it is supposed to feel like, yet she wants him to describe it to her in great detail.

She's definitely an interesting little creature.

He reaches up and removes the earguard on the ear he was just teasing and runs a finger along the length of the ear, smirking as her eyes widen. She moans, leaning more heavily into him.

"Well, these seem to be rather sensitive," Cal comments casually.

Silver makes a sound of agreement, tilting her head so he has better access.

He rubs the tip gently between two fingers and commences telling her all the things he plans on doing to her. Eventually. Because making her wait is much more fun.

Especially now that she has all those images in her mind.