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JOCYLENE GLANCED UP to find that her mate was still awake. For so long, they’d lay together in silence, so she hadn’t been sure. His breathing had become even and slow, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath her cheek. So slow and steady she had thought he slept.
A soft, slow smile curved his lips as he met her gaze. “Still awake? And here I thought I’d properly put you to bed.”
She laughed, wrapping an arm around his waist and snuggling closer. “You did ... I’m exhausted. I don’t want to close my eyes just yet. In a few hours, you’ll be gone. I just want to lay here and look at you.”
His smile wavered, and he reached up to stroke a lock of hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Part of me wishes you were coming, even though I understand the wisdom of keeping you here. We just found each other again.”
“This is different,” she insisted. “We’re not being separated by force, and one of us isn’t dying. I’ll be here when you get back.”
He remained silent, staring down at her with an odd look in his eyes. Even though he didn’t speak a word, she could feel the uncertainty radiating from him in waves. Their mate’s bond had grown strong enough that she always knew where his mind was going, even when she couldn’t hear his thoughts.
“What are you so afraid of?” she whispered. “I survived, Eli. I’m here ... I will always be here.”
“Losing you frightens me more than anything else in the world,” he murmured. “It would mean I have nothing left to fight for.”
Remembering the other Panther Shifter they’d encountered in Mollac—the one so similar to Eli in appearance, it was uncanny—she sat up, pulling the bed sheet up to cover her chest.
“What about your family? You never talk about them.”
With a shake of his head, he growled, low in his chest. “That’s because there’s nothing to talk about. My parents are dead. All I have left is Daxan, and we’ve never gotten along.”
Inclining her head, she frowned. “Why not?”
He shrugged, sitting up to face her. “Small things we fought over when we were boys, turned into big things once we became men. Petty arguments. Slights and insults. Over time we just drifted apart. I had no family until I found you ... and Michael, Vincent, and Grace.”
Jocylene smiled. “They love you, you know. My foster siblings. They never had a father figure in their lives. I’m glad they could have that in you.”
Reaching out, he grasped her upper arms in a tight but gentle grip. “And what about you? Do you love me, Joss?”
His intensity struck her like a blow to the gut, the desperation in his gaze making her chest ache.
“Of course I do,” she whispered. “Don’t you know, you’re the reason I fought so hard to survive? I would never leave you alone in the world if I could help it.”
He nodded as if satisfied with his answer, before pulling her against him, crushing her mouth in a possessive kiss. His hold on her tightened, as if he feared what might happen if he let her go.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so erratic these past few days,” he said, once they’d pulled apart.
“It’s okay,” she replied. “I scared the crap out of you and almost died. You get to be irrational and emotional. The important thing is, you found me. You saved me.”
Eli scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Technically, that big Pixie saved you.”
She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped at him calling Rothatin a Pixie. “Well, he might have helped, but you were the one who was smart enough to know he could heal me. And you stayed by my side the entire time. I can still hear your voice in my head telling me to fight for my life. I know it’s what gave me what I needed to push through. I don’t care what anyone else did, Eli. You are my hero, and you always will be.”
“Well, I was with you as much as I could be,” he relented. “Rothatin would not let me come wherever you went when he healed you, the stubborn asshole.”
Jocylene felt her throat seize, her smile frozen on her face until her cheeks began to hurt. She was torn between being amused that he had started using human insults, and shocked by his revelation. He hadn’t been with her when she was healed? Then, how was it that her memory became flooded by the feel of his arms around her, and his voice in her ear, at the same time the poison was being drained from her body? He’d held her and kissed her—she knew this. It hadn’t been a dream; it had been too vivid for her to have imagined it.
“Joss?”
Eli’s voice brought her back to the present. He sat in front of her, brow furrowed in concern as he searched her face.
“Where did you go just now?” he prodded.
She cleared her throat and shook her head, forcing herself to smile again. “Nowhere. I was just thinking about how much I’m going to miss you.”
Pulling her against him, he chuckled, nuzzling the tip of her nose with his, a low purr sounding in his throat. “Don’t start missing me just yet. I’m still here, and we have a few hours left.”
“Hmm,” she murmured, giving him a kiss. “What do you say we kill some time?”
Flipping her onto her back, he let his smirk grow into a full-fledged grin—the kind that made her melt into a puddle and forget about everything else.
“I say, I like the way you think, my love.”
Yet, as the minutes and hours passed her by, Jocylene found herself hard-pressed to forget. She wanted to lose herself in Eli, enjoy the last bit of time they had together before he would leave. Who knew when they might see each other again?
But as she closed her eyes, in her mind’s eye she could see a green meadow, and feel the soft breeze. She could smell the fragrance of the earth that had healed her, and hear the insistent voice of a man telling her she couldn’t die, because he loved her. She could feel the pressure of his lips against hers.
And she knew, that man had not been her mate.
Rothatin stood at the open gates leading out of Goldun, watching as five hundred Faerie warriors flew away from the shining city on the backs of their birds. At the front of the formation, the Shapeshifters Malachi and Eli shared saddles with two of the warriors, leading the charge to Mollac. He wished that he was capable of being two places at once—the better to help thwart the enemy from all sides. Yet, as powerful as he was, there were some things that remained just outside the sphere of possibility. Some things simply could not be done.
He would trust the people working alongside him to make the right decisions when the time came. Rothatin was fast realizing that he could not control everything, no matter how badly he might wish to.
That fact became even more apparent as the scent of pine, winter air, and roses flooded his sense seconds before a woman’s slender finger tapped him on the shoulder.
He still could not control his visceral reaction to her nearness.
“Yes?” he asked, turning to face Jocylene.
She glared up at him, her mouth pinched in a tight line. Her hand flew toward him swiftly, lashing against his face. He flinched on contact—not because it hurt, but because she’d caught him completely off guard.
“You bastard,” she growled, her voice low.
He blinked, schooling his face into a mask of indifference. “I am certain I am, but if you’d be so kind as to elaborate ...”
She swung at him again, but this time he reached out and caught her by the wrist, halting the blow. Her eyes went wide when he gave her a yank, until she stood so close he could see the flecks of gold in her green eyes.
Gritting his teeth, he let her go, even though he didn’t want to. “I am willing to forgive the first blow, but I will not stand here and let you pummel me.”
It struck him suddenly why she was angry with him. He had been away from Fallada for weeks, so there was only one thing that could have her fuming at him like this.
“Ah,” he murmured. “You remember.”
“You had no right!” she bellowed.
Glancing around to make sure no one was around, he raised one eyebrow at her. “To heal you when you lay dying?”
“To say those words to me,” she whispered, her voice hoarse as if she’d been crying. “To kiss me and hold me and ... it’s not your place!”
“You were suffering,” he said, keeping his voice flat as if they were discussing the weather. “Your life hung on by a thread, and you needed a reason to fight.”
“So, you force yourself on me?”
“Do not feign ignorance, Jocylene,” he murmured. “I did not force myself on you ... you practically begged me.”
She looked like she wanted to hit him again, her hand balling into a fist at her side. However, Rothatin knew she wouldn’t, because he was right.
Kiss me ... please.
Her weak voice begging for a kiss taunted him at night, filling his mind with hope for possibilities that now lay beyond his reach. Whenever that hope sprang in his chest, he simply reminded himself that she hadn’t realized she was begging him.
“I thought you were my mate,” she spat. “How could you?”
“You needed to fight,” he said again, hoping that he could convince himself as much as he needed to convince her. “You thought I was Eli, and I was content to let you think I was if it comforted you in your time of sickness. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Furrowing her brow at him, she folded her arms over her chest. Her gaze said she didn’t quite believe him. But, damn it, he needed her to.
“So, you only said those things because you thought Eli would say them,” she said.
He nodded. “To me, they sounded like things he would say.”
Letting her arms falling limp at her sides, she sighed. “I’m sorry. I just ... I thought ...”
“That I was trying to claim something that isn’t mine?” he offered.
She nodded, but wouldn’t meet his gaze. He hated himself for making her feel as if she was in the wrong here. But, the alternative was unthinkable. He couldn’t have her knowing that he’d meant every word.
“Whatever might have passed between us is over,” he stated. “You are happily mated, and I hope to be wed soon as well.”
Her gaze flew up to meet his, and something akin to shock seemed to flash through them. “Wed? When ... to who?”
Folding his hands in front of him, he fought to keep his tone light. “It has not been made official just yet. I’d rather not say until it is. She is a Faerie, if that is what you’re asking.”
Blinking rapidly, she seemed to wrestle with the news, one hand coming up to press against her stomach. Was she simply shocked, or was there another emotion causing her to look as if she might grow ill?
No, it couldn’t be. He was seeing things that weren’t there, wanting her to be jealous.
“Congratulations,” she said, with a smile.
He knew her well enough to recognize that it was forced.
“Thank you,” he replied.
“I hope you’ll be happy,” she offered. “And I’m sorry about ...”
He waved a dismissive hand and shook his head. “Think nothing of it.”
Clearing her throat, she glanced down at the ground, digging the toe of one of her boots into the dirt. “The sun is up. I guess that means you’ll be going back to Earth soon.”
“Yes.”
“Say hello to the girls for me?”
“Of course.”
Nodding again, she began to back away from him. Glancing up, she offered him one last glimpse into her eyes. Would he ever look into them and not feel as if he were drowning? Would he ever stop wishing that she would reach out and save him?
“Good-bye, Rothatin,” she whispered, before turning her back and making her way back toward Osbel Tower.
He stood there for a long while, watching her go until the foliage lining the winding path blocked her from view. Leaning against the gate, he closed his eyes and sighed, relief flooding him. Now he could leave Fallada and put her behind him again for a short time. Hopefully, by the time he returned, he would be betrothed.
“Good-bye,” he whispered.
Unknown Location, New York
Broken glass and bits of debris crunched beneath her feet, as Queen Eranna Ravenmoore traversed the long, narrow room. Filthy windows allowed in very little sunlight, but the queen preferred the shadows. She could barely stand to look upon her own face—why should the sun grace her with its bright rays?
This place was a hovel, a ramshackle building with broken windows and a crumbling façade. This room had been stripped of everything save ten cots, which lined the wall down one side. Each cot boasted a dirty mattress, many of which had long been stripped of their sheets. Above her, a hole in the roof allowed a beam of sunlight to shine down in front of her.
Pausing, she reached one hand out toward the circle of light, trembling as she forced herself to confront what she’d become. The light illuminated her hand—revealing the gray pallor of her skin, with the ugly black veins showing beneath the surface. Long and gnarled, her fingers seemed to be made of nothing but skin and bone.
She sucked in a sharp breath and snatched her hand back, hiding it within the folds of her black, hooded robe. The garment shrouded her from head to toe, hiding her hideousness from the world.
The shuffle of footsteps alerted her to the presence of another in the room. Whirling around to face the intruder, she extended her hands, producing a flurry of snow and ice. The frigid bite of her power was missing, its strength nowhere near what it had been. Grunting in frustration, she lowered her arms, scowling when she recognized the person who had interrupted her solitude.
“Ushma,” she spat, turning her back to the Witch. “What do you want?”
“To ensure that the place is to my queen’s liking,” the Witch rasped, shuffling toward her.
Eranna stiffened, but relaxed with a sigh of relief when she realized that Ushma intended to remain behind her. Where she wouldn’t have to look upon the ruin of Eranna’s face.
Glancing at the cots arranged in a neat row, she nodded. “It will do to suit my purposes. Begin bringing them here immediately, and send word when they are all here. Ten in all, Ushma. No more, no less.”
“As you wish,” Ushma replied.
Her hand fell on Eranna’s shoulder, the gesture meant to be comforting. Yet, as she turned to look her most faithful Witch in the eye, Eranna recoiled to find pity in her gaze. Reaching out, Ushma presented her with a small chest.
“Until your power and beauty are restored, my queen,” she murmured.
Eranna accepted the box, opening it to reveal a pair of elbow-length gloves made of leather, and a polished silver mask. The piece was ornate, made to resemble her own face—her true face, not this abomination she’d been cursed with.
“Very well,” she replied, waving the Witch away dismissively. “Leave me.”
Retrieving the mask, she set the box aside on one of the cots. Studying the piece, she clenched her jaw so tight, pain began to radiate across her face. It was nothing compared to the agony boiling in her gut. To be pitied by a creature like Ushma caused her blood to grow hot with rage. She was Queen Eranna Ravenmoore—one of the most powerful royals in all of Fallada. The fairest of them all. The one to be revered, respected, and feared.
Pity? No, she would not abide it. She might have met a temporary setback when those insipid girls had set out to destroy her, but it would take more than a few bolts of lightning to bring her down.
The princesses of Fallada thought they had stopped her for good, but all they’d done was make her more determined to ensure their demise.
Slipping the mask on over her face, she hid her sunken cheeks and black, death-kissed lips. She took the gloves from the box and slipped them on over her gnarled hands. Her beauty and strength would be restored, and once she had accomplished that goal, she would take great pleasure in hunting down and destroying each of Fallada’s royal daughters one by one. If they were dead, no one could oppose her. The prophecy could not come true, and Fallada would be hers.
With a swish of her long robes, she strode to the exit, a smile curving her lips. She’d seen defeat and heartbreak many times throughout her life. This was nothing to her. Like everyone or everything else that had ever gotten in her way, she would crush this new obstacle with all the strength she possessed.
Queen Eranna Ravenmoore could not be so easily broken.