Bast opened her mouth to inform him that lying by omission was still fucking lying. Who did he think he was kidding? What a bunch of bullshit. Before she got that far, though, he turned it around on her and as accusing her of lying, both to him and to herself.
Her face few harder, darker, and it was obvious that what was about to come out of her mouth would be incredibly unpleasant. But just as she opened her mouth, her countenance suddenly smoothed as it appeared all the fight left her. Perhaps it did. Because right then Bast didn't want to fight. She wanted… Hell, she didn't know what she wanted. The things that went through her brain were so not her: she wanted to cry; she wanted to hold him; she wanted to believe him. Gods, she wanted to believe him.
"Look around, Hermod," she said tiredly. "Just look. Really look. This isn't your kind of place. It's mine. And I'm not your kind of girl. You know I'm not. This is some kind of thrill for you, or something, but it's not love. It can't be. And you can't promise you won't leave me. Because of course you will, once you outgrow this infatuation. Then you'll move on. I don't want to go through that.
"So stop, okay? Just stop. If you care for me at all-- no, don't say you love me again," Bast warned,"if you care about me at all, stop. Because you're hurting me. I can't take this anymore. Please. Stop."