Chapter Twenty-Six
The next morning, Harrow woke to feel the weight of another’s gaze upon her. Everything came back in a rush, and she jolted upright.
Raith was sitting in the chair at the end of the bed, clad in a pair of pants she’d given him the night before. He stared at her with haunted eyes. His skin was deep bronze again, the shade it had been when they first met.
“Raith.” She clutched the sheet over her bare breasts. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth sooner. I was afraid, and it was selfish.”
It was like he hadn’t heard her. “You came back for me.”
“Yes.”
“You left. But you came back.”
“Yes.” She swallowed hard. “And I’m never leaving again.”
“I hurt you. I—” It was his turn to swallow. “I tried to kill you.” He looked sick at the thought.
“No, Furie tried to kill me. You fought with everything you had not to.”
“I hurt you. I made you bleed. I—”
“No, Raith. Furie did those things. You fought her. Even after I betrayed you, you still fought to protect me.”
“You were right to leave me.”
“No.” Her fingers clenched around the bedsheet. “No, I was wrong. I can’t believe I doubted you for a second.”
“Harrow, I killed your family. Your mother. How can you even stand to look at me?”
“I can look at you because I know it wasn’t you who did those things. Furie bound you and the other wraiths—your actions weren’t your own. I saw how you were under the compulsion of your vow. You weren’t yourself; you weren’t thinking clearly. You couldn’t fight what you were doing. Anything you’ve done with your own free choice has been the opposite of how you were under Furie’s control. All you’ve ever done is protect me and love me and make me happier than I’ve ever been in my life.”
Raith’s eyes were haunted as he stared at the floor. “I killed so many. Not just Seers. For years, she sent me after anyone who angered or threatened her. After enough time, I obeyed without a second thought.”
“I want to kill her for what she did to you.”
“I went back to her the night you left. I tried to cut off her head.”
So Malaikah had been right. “What happened?”
“The blade melted when it touched her skin.” He shrugged. “I knew I would likely fail. I hoped that when I did, she would kill me.”
“Raith.” Harrow’s vision swam with tears.
“She almost did. But she realized it was what I wanted, so she stopped and sent me after you instead.” He shook his head. “I was a fool.”
“I was a fool. If I hadn’t left that night, you never would’ve gone back to her.”
But he shook his head again. “Darya gave me my memories back that night. It changed me. Whether or not you left, I doubt I’d have been able to stay, knowing what I’d done.”
“You’re still not getting it, Raith.” He had so much to live for, and it was time he started fighting for it. “You were just doing what it took to survive. Your whole life, you’ve been forced to do that horrible woman’s bidding, and then I came along and judged you for that. I’ve never felt more ashamed. That I could doubt you for even a second—”
“How could you not?”
“Darya planned to kill you, and I knew it, and I still told her where to find you. How is that any better than what you did to me?”
“Your entire life has been shaped around the horrors I did to you. You have no family, and you’re the last one left of your kind. How can you say that doesn’t matter?”
“I’m not saying it doesn’t matter. I’m saying you aren’t to blame for it because you didn’t have a choice.”
“There is blood on my hands that can never be washed clean!” She flinched at his raised voice, though a part of her was satisfied to see him pushing back. A will to fight was a will to live. “You told me you could never care for the monster who killed your family. Harrow, I am that monster!”
“And I also told you I was wrong to say that. I didn’t understand at the time what you were or how Furie had controlled you, and—”
Her words suddenly dried up as she stared at the man sitting before her. His fiery eyes were blazing, his strong body dwarfing the delicate chair, his golden-brown skin contrasting against the plain undyed pants she’d given him.
All of a sudden, tenderness filled her. The fight drained out of her, and she could only look at him and give thanks to the Goddess he was here in her caravan, alive and well. They were two lost souls who’d been collateral damage in a senseless war that wasn’t even their own. Why should that divide them when they were finally together now?
“Raith, I’m so sorry I doubted you. I’m sorry I told Darya where you were hiding. I’m sorry I left you, and I’m sorry to myself for ignoring what my own instincts were telling me from the start. And I’m sorry I let you believe I didn’t love you, because I never stopped for a second. Will you forgive me?”
He stared at her. “There’s nothing to forgive.”
She smiled softly. “Thank you.” She let the relief wash over her for a moment, not realizing how much she’d needed to hear him say that. “Now, it’s your turn. You ask me for forgiveness, and I’ll grant it, and then we can finally move on with our lives.”
He looked uncertain. “You could actually forgive me for what I’ve done?”
“I already do. I just want to leave the Queens’ war where it belongs—in the past—and start fresh together. Darya gave us both a second chance to get things right, and we’d be fools not to take it.”
Still, he hesitated, searching her face. There was so much longing in his expression. He wanted to believe her, she knew, but couldn’t quite take that step yet.
“I can’t tell you what to do, Raith, but the way I see it, Furie wins if we let her actions divide us. All I want is the chance to make a future with you that doesn’t involve anyone else’s conflicts.”
“How can I know I won’t be forced to hurt you again?”
“Furie can’t control you with a body.”
“She took my body away last time.”
“And Darya gave you a new one. And maybe she’ll find a way to stop her, and things will change, but if not, we’ll get through it like we’re going to get through this. I’ll always come for you, no matter what. And I trust you. I know you wouldn’t have killed me that day in the forest, just like you didn’t kill me all those years ago.”
His expression was tortured. “I didn’t want to hurt you. Inside, I was screaming at myself to stop, but I couldn’t.”
“You did stop, remember? Plus, remember Darya’s powerful magic storm? If she stopped you like that once, she could stop you again. But she won’t have to. Once we leave, we never have to set foot in the Southern Territory again in our lives if you don’t want to.”
She waited for him to respond, wanting so badly for him to agree with her, to say he was ready to move forward, but he didn’t speak. His gaze transferred to the floor, and he seemed to go somewhere far away in his mind, his eyes growing distant.
“She called me Thirteen,” he finally said, and Harrow knew he was talking about Furie again. “That’s my real name. The name I had forgotten.”
She opened her mouth to refute him, to tell him his name wasn’t some hateful number and could be whatever he wanted, but he kept speaking.
“When we met, I didn’t remember. And when you asked me what my name was, I just picked the first thing I read off that sign.”
“I guessed that,” she said softly.
“I should have known right then.” His mouth twisted with a bitter smile. “I went around with the name ‘Raith,’ wondering who I was, when I’d labeled myself correctly from the beginning.”
“But you know now, and you also know it doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter.”
“Okay, so it matters. You’re right. But it’s part of who you are, and that’s something to be proud of.” Harrow leaned forward to emphasize her point. “Look at what you’ve been through. Look at the person you are—this amazing, strong, caring man. What you are—a wraith—isn’t despite that, it’s because of it. I love that about you. I love who you are, and I hope you can love yourself too.”
His gaze lifted back to hers, and he went silent again, but his eyes narrowed slightly as if he was considering her words. She hoped he was. She meant them down to her bones.
“I know my feelings for you don’t change anything,” she said, “but I—”
“They change everything.”
She nodded mutely.
“And knowing you love me…if you really do love me…” He glanced away. “Maybe I can forgive myself. Accept myself.” He shrugged lightly. “If you can accept me.”
“I do love you. And I do accept you. That’s what I’ve been saying all along. How many times do I need to tell you that before you believe it?”
The edge of his mouth curved. “Maybe a few more.”
She smiled back, though her sight blurred slightly with tears. “I’ll tell you as many times as it takes for it to sink in.”
They smiled at each other in silence for a moment, and Harrow could sense the darkness of the past finally starting to lift, the heavy storm clouds lightening to clear skies.
“Harrow.” Raith’s gaze shifted away again. “I’m sorry for what I did to you and your family and for the crimes I committed in the past. Will you forgive me?”
He was actually doing it—asking for her forgiveness like she’d suggested so they could move on together. Her heart swelled with happiness.
“Of course I forgive you,” she said fervently. “I love you.”
Studying his hands with intense focus, he murmured, “From what I understand about love, I think I love you too.”
Her eyes filled with tears. Again. But this time, these were the kind of tears she wanted to spill.
“You really want this. With me.” His head lifted, and he searched her face carefully as if looking for signs of doubt. She let him stare all he wanted—he wouldn’t find a single one.
“Yes, you silly man. I already told you that.”
He smiled slightly, though it was still hesitant. “Darya said you were stubborn.”
She chuckled. “The most stubborn. And I always get what I want.”
“I’ve never had what I wanted before,” he said, breaking her heart into a hundred pieces. “I never even knew how to want something. Until you.”
“I want you to have what you want.”
“You’re what I want.”
“And you have me.”
He was still smiling softly at her, but he looked so uncomfortable, his big body squished into her tiny chair, that she felt compelled to say, “Will you come closer so I can see you better?”
His smile widened. “When I said that to you yesterday, you ran at me so fast, you blurred.”
She grinned. “I bet you can go faster.”
She was right. She didn’t even see him move. One moment, he was in the chair, and the next, she was flat on her back with him above her. Their eyes met. He was still smiling, and it was so pure her chest ached.
But then, he brushed her hair aside and saw the scars on her shoulders where his taloned wingtips had pinned her to the ground. His face fell.
“Don’t go there,” she said. “Stay with me.”
Their eyes met again. “Always.”
“Always.”
He lifted a finger to trail down her cheek. “You let me touch you with my wraith skin.”
“Mm-hmm.” She squirmed at the memory.
“You liked it.” His gaze heated.
“Oh yes.” She shivered in appreciation. “And I want to do it again.”
Fiery eyes burning, he dropped his head and kissed her, needing no further prompting. Immediately, she wound her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, as close as she could get him. Their bodies pressed together, the heat of his skin like a brand against her, even through the barrier of the bedsheet.
“I want everything,” she murmured, his taste and scent swamping her senses. “Don’t hold back.”
Despite her urgings, however, he continued to kiss her leisurely. Forearms braced on either side of her head, he simply covered her with his heated body and explored her mouth with lazy flicks of his tongue.
With her arms still wrapped around his neck, she tried to pull him even closer, lifting her pelvis to seek the friction she craved. He let her play, but he was in no hurry to give her what she wanted.
The sheet tangled around her suddenly felt obtrusive, and she unwound her arms, struggled to yank it off, and then kicked it away, leaving her naked beneath him. Still, he never moved to assist her, content to watch hungrily as she wriggled beneath him.
Sliding her hands up his strong back, she buried her fingers in his silky hair and clenched them slightly, enough to convey her impatience. “Raith.”
It was all she needed to say. His lips curved into a devastating smile, and she just knew he’d been waiting for her to beg a little.
“Are you going to let me take you, sweet one?”
“Yes,” she breathed, her body aching at the mere thought. “Please, Raith.”
One palm landed on the side of her ribs, sliding down to the curve of her waist, his big hand spanning half her body. “Or shall I torment you until you’re crying for mercy?”
“Raith.”
Down his hand traveled, over the curve of her hip, his fingers clenching her soft flesh as if he could possess her with only a touch. The breath gusted out of her as his hand slid back up her inner thigh, and that breathlessness turned to a gasp as he finally touched her where she craved him the most.
Her legs widened and her hips tilted of their own accord. Every part of her body wanted to open for him—to spread wide and be taken. Consumed.
Dexterous fingers slid through her arousal, dipping inside and spreading the wetness around. As he grazed lightly over her clit, her whole lower body lifted off the mattress, and she had no hope of stifling her moan. She didn’t try to. This pleasure was shared between them—she wanted him to know how he affected her. She wanted him to feel what she felt.
His eyes positively ablaze, he did it again, this time circling around. As she squirmed and moaned her pleasure, he kissed her again, trapping the sound in his own mouth. She lifted her chest, pressing her naked breasts to his heated skin, her nerves alive and singing as he continued to tease her with his fingers.
Her toes curled as she envisioned taking his hard shaft in her hands and stroking it, making him moan as she did, and then guiding him into her body. Eagerly, she reached down, fumbling with the fastening of his pants, barely able to concentrate on her endeavors when the movement of his fingers continued to consume her attention.
But that empty ache inside her demanded fulfillment, and as soon as his pants were open, she shoved them down his narrow hips as far as she could reach, taking a moment to appreciate the strength in his muscled backside. Then she bent her knees, catching her toes on the waistband and wiggling expertly to aid her efforts to slide them down.
He pulled back with a breathy laugh, watching her struggles, once again making no effort to aid her. She scowled at him with mock frustration, though secretly, she reveled in his teasing. This playful side of him was new, and she wanted to nurture it and see it grow.
Finally, he rolled off her, tugged the pants down, and tossed them away.
He was back over her in a second, his heat like a blanket, his hard shaft a heavy weight against her thigh. Without further torment, he scooped up one of her legs behind the knee and hitched it high, spreading her wide. The head of his erection aligned with her entrance, and she squirmed in anticipation.
“Is this what you want, my Harrow?”
“Oh yes.” She arched into him, trying to take him inside, but he held himself away. “I need it. I need you, and if you make me wait any longer, I don’t know if I’ll— Yes!”
His hips surged forward, penetrating her aching core in one deep thrust. Her inner muscles rippled around him, the edge of pain from the tightness quickly dissolving under waves of pleasure.
He didn’t move, giving her time to adjust to his size. “So tight.”
It had been six months since they were together, after all. “So big.” She stroked her palms down his chest. “You feel so good inside me.”
He bent down and kissed her, and she wound her arms back around his neck. His movements were slow, leisurely, as he eased out of her and then sank back in.
“Change your skin again,” she whispered. “I want to see your true form.”
He stilled, lifting his head to meet her gaze. Yesterday, when she’d told him to change, he’d frowned, not understanding why she would care what he looked like while they were intimate. But today, she saw in his eyes that he understood well what it meant.
Instead of any shame or hesitation, his gaze heated as if her request pleased him. And then, he granted her wish.
The color faded from his skin like the moon eclipsing the sun and shadowing the day. She held a palm against his chest, marveling at the difference between them, and he watched her with a fervent gaze. His eyes blazed from amid the darkness, the fire in them brighter than ever.
Looking into the flames, she smiled. He was so beautiful, and he was hers.
And then, suddenly, they couldn’t get close enough. Their lips crashed back together, tongues dueling. He crushed her into the mattress and thrust deep, his pelvis grinding against hers, the friction making her see stars. She angled her hips to fit him even deeper, grinding against him in turn.
Clutching his powerful back, she wrapped her arms around him, her nails sinking into his skin. Her legs encircled his hips, heels digging in, encouraging his relentless movements.
They made love with ferocity. With passionate desperation.
He thrust so hard into her, she slid across the bed until her head was crushed against the wall, so he scooped her up and sat her in his lap. From there, he lay back to watch her ride him, but neither of them lasted long like that. Always hungry to control her movements, he sat up again to meet her kiss, holding her still above him while he drove his hips into her from beneath.
Still, they needed more.
He picked her up and stood, tossing her on her back on the bed. He entered her again, and she cried out, wrapping her legs around him to take him deeper. She threw her arms overhead, savoring his low moan as he watched her breasts bouncing, his shadowy body moving in and out of her while his dark hands clenched around her thighs.
Lifting her again, he crossed the caravan to her desk and set her upon it. He took her desperately, his fingers caressing her clit while she cried out against his lips. Next, he dropped her on her hands and knees back on the bed. He entered her again, reaching around her hip to keep stroking her in time with his frenzied thrusts.
The orgasm climbed up from the base of her spine and crested overhead like a tidal wave. Her ecstatic cries filled the caravan as he bent and fixed his teeth around her shoulder. The prick of his fangs against her skin was sharp but careful so as not to hurt her. She didn’t care about pain. She reached back to grip his head, willing him to bite harder as she rode out the final waves of her peak.
When she could take no more, she pushed his hand away from her sensitized clit, head spinning from the pleasure. He released his bite, pulled out, and flipped her over once more onto her back. Her body flopped limply, weak from her climax, and she could do nothing but cry out as he thrust back into her, reveling in the hoarse shout that burst from his lips as he finally gave in to his release.
Hips still rocking, he collapsed atop her, and she wrapped her arms and legs around him as far as she could go, wanting to hold him in the cradle of her body forever. He dropped his head to her neck, breathing hard against her skin, and she thought her heart would burst from fullness.
Eventually, he rolled them to their sides, and she cuddled into his chest, feeling tiny and vulnerable and yet safer than she’d ever felt. Together, they were stronger. Together, their vulnerability was strength.
She pulled back enough that she could look into his eyes. He smiled at her, the subtle crinkling of his cheeks nearly hidden by his shadowy skin.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, remembering how they’d often asked each other that in their room at the tavern.
“That…I love you,” he murmured, those fire-wreathed irises glancing away.
Her heart swelled until it nearly hurt. “And I love you. So much.”
He looked back at her, and this time, he didn’t look away.
This was really happening, she realized, a sudden exhilaration seizing her until it felt like she was flying. They were really going to make it. They were here together, starting over, their future wide open before them. They could end up anywhere in the world, and she wouldn’t care. Just as long as they were together.
“You know,” she mused, “if you wanted, you could choose a new name.” This was their new beginning, and she wanted him to feel as ready for it as she did.
“No,” he replied immediately. “You were right before. This…us…is because of what I am, not in spite of it. If I’m truly going to move forward, I need to accept my past. The name I chose is part of it, and I’m not going to pretend to be something I’m not.” He glanced down at himself and smiled, the tips of his white fangs a stark contrast against his skin. “I mean, look at me.”
She breathed a laugh, lifting a hand to trace his jawline. “I think you’re perfect. And I like that. I love your name. It suits you.”
Still smiling, his brow lifted. “Because I’m a wraith?”
“No—well, maybe a little. But mostly because it reminds me of how we met. How sure I was from the beginning that you were meant to be in my life.”
“I like that memory.”
“Me too.” She placed her palm on his cheek and leaned in to kiss him. “And now let’s make some new ones.”
…
One week later, Harrow awoke to uncomfortable heat in the caravan. She must have slept in again—something she never did when she’d been on her own. Traveling in the desert meant leaving before the sun rose, resting in the heat of the day, and traveling until it was too dark to see. But since reuniting with Raith, she’d relaxed her schedule considerably. They had nowhere to be, nothing to do except be together and enjoy each other’s company.
It went without saying they’d been doing that a lot.
Throwing back the thin sheet, she padded naked to the wardrobe and donned a light robe. The windows were open, and a gentle breeze ruffled the sarong over the open door. Harrow went there and peeked around it.
Yesterday, they’d found a little spring surrounded by scruffy trees. Clean water and shade—out here, this place was paradise. Outside, Raith was keeping Fiona company by the water’s edge.
Harrow had taught him everything she knew about caring for her horse (which wasn’t much), and he’d proved to be a fast learner. In fact, he seemed to enjoy the tasks and was already much better with Fiona than Harrow was. And of course, the horse loved him, nuzzling him at every opportunity, far more enthusiastic about putting on her harness if Raith was the one doing it.
Smiling, Harrow ducked back inside and went to the desk to commence her morning ritual. She filled her scrying bowl with water, lit a stick of incense and a charcoal tablet, and then placed a pinch of her dwindling supply of vision herbs atop it. At some point, they would have to journey to the Western Territory to gather more from the lakes and marshes where the plants grew.
Exhaling deeply, releasing all distracting thoughts, Harrow gazed into the bowl and let the Water rise…
Moments later, she jumped upright with a gasp, stumbling backward into the stove and nearly knocking over the chair.
“Raith!”
She sprinted outside, practically ripping the sarong off the doorway and taking the steps in one leap. Raith looked up in alarm, dropping everything to run toward her.
“Raith!”
They reached each other. She clutched his arms, staring into his eyes.
“What is it?” Poor Raith didn’t know what was going on.
She was so excited she could barely speak. “Raith, I was just scrying! Sweet Goddess—”
“What, Harrow?”
“We’re— I’m— We’re having a baby! She’s so beautiful, Raith. She’s the most perfect—”
“A what?”
“A girl! A baby girl!” She had to laugh at the look on his face. “I’m pregnant.”
“P-pregnant…” He was swaying on his feet. Was he going to faint? “A girl…?”
“Yes, a baby girl. You’re going to be a father.”
“A fath—”
He dropped right to the ground as if his legs couldn’t support him any longer. Laughing in sheer happiness and exhilaration, Harrow dropped beside him, and they clutched each other on the sandy desert floor while Fiona stared at them as if they’d both lost their minds.
“You’re pregnant?” he asked when he’d recovered enough to speak again. “How do you know?”
“The Water showed it to me just now.”
“How long?”
“We conceived the first night we reunited,” she said with a grin. “My mate was in a hurry.” Elemental children were incredibly rare, and the offspring of two different Elementals even rarer—so rare, many believed it impossible. For her to get pregnant so quickly… It was a miracle. A blessing from the Goddess.
Harrow had never seen Raith’s eyes so wide. “A girl?”
“Yes. I saw her, Raith. She’s so beautiful.” Her eyes filled with tears.
But he looked suddenly stricken. “Harrow, does she…look like a wraith?”
She knew he was afraid their daughter would face the same cruelty he had, and she shook her head. “But even if she did, she would still be the most beautiful—and only—Seer-wraith in existence, and we’d love her just as much.”
Raith nodded fiercely. “And we’ll kill anyone who even thinks to harm her.”
They were in perfect agreement on that one. “She has your eyes.”
He frowned. “My eyes?”
“And they’re beautiful,” Harrow said firmly, daring him to disagree. “Just like her father’s.”
His face softened again. He lifted a hand to stroke Harrow’s hair from her face. “I already know she’s perfect. She’s our daughter.”
“Exactly. That’s exactly right.”
They stared at each other, hearts overflowing.
“Let’s go home,” Harrow declared.
Raith frowned. “Where’s home?”
They had Fiona and the sturdy caravan. And, more importantly, they had each other.
Harrow smiled up at him. “Wherever we want it to be.”