14

My solitude lasted ten seconds. The slapping of bare feet on earth signified Nevan had caught up to me.

I sighed when he came up alongside me. "Said I wanted to be alone."

"You said you'd rather walk. No mention of wishing me gone."

"I don't wish you gone. I wanted a little time to myself, that's all."

"Beginning to think you don't know what you really want."

Once again, he delved right down to my soul to expose a truth I couldn't deny. "Maybe I don't know what I want. But I'm too tired for penetrating insights, okay?"

He slipped an arm around my waist. "Am I penetrating you?"

"Ugh." I dared to glance at him, dismayed by his playful smile. "I just keep setting myself up for your double entendres, don't I?"

"Repressed longings are bound to slip out now and again."

Opting to let that comment go, because I absolutely did not want to discuss my pent-up emotions, I walked faster. He removed his arm but kept pace with me as we traveled in silence, his strides sure and purposeful while mine were shuffling. With anyone else, the lack of conversation would've made me uneasy, yet with him it seemed natural to be in each other's company without small talk.

A couple minutes later, as we approached the healing vortex, my gut twisted into tight little knots at the thought of what I needed to do. Tell my family about the supernatural nightmare my life had become. I resisted the urge to chew my nails, a bad habit I'd never suffered from before, and shoved my hands in my jeans pockets.

Nevan slid a hand down the underside of my wrist, easing my hand out of my pocket and into his palm.

I closed my fingers around his. "Tell me something about you. Something you wouldn't tell anyone else."

He stopped. His hold on my hand halted me too. We angled toward each other like two magnets whose poles sought to align.

"I was mortal once," he said.

"Was it a punishment, like getting suspended from school?"

"No." His fingers fidgeted around mine but he held onto my hand. "I was born a mortal and died one as well. My people had engaged in a long-standing war with a neighboring clan. I suffered a grievous injury during the last battle I fought. I was dying, I knew this." His fingers grasped mine harder, then loosened, his thumb massaging the back of my hand. "I had collapsed on the shores of a lake, my blood flowing into the waters, sinking down to the bottom where a portal to the otherworld lay. As it turned out, I had a bit of the Unseen realm in me. My blood unlocked the doorway."

Questions bounced in my head, but I squelched them. Later.

He raised our joined hands to his chest level, capturing me in his hold. Seeking comfort. Seeking connection. I recognized the need, since I'd suffered from it my entire life. Until I'd met this man, I'd failed to find the thing for which I longed the most. Its name whispered in the recesses of my mind, but still, I could not speak it even in my own thoughts.

No, I couldn't have fulfilled that need. Not yet. Not after three days with him.

I pulled our hands to my breast, sealing them together with my free hand. My heart beat a bit faster, with his skin glued to mine in the valley between my breasts, and my heart lightened.

Too soon, way too soon.

And yet, I could not let go of his hands.

"The sylph king, Notus, came to me," Nevan said.

"Skeiron hasn't always been king?"

"He ascended to the throne after a lengthy and violent war with Notus." A shadow seemed to fall over him — a shadow from the past. "At one time, Skeiron was an admirable warrior, the leader of the sylph army, a faithful servant to the king. Notus became depraved, though, just as Skeiron has."

Skeiron a decent guy? Unbelievable.

He appeared haggard now, burdened with the memories he recounted. "Notus offered me a choice — to die a natural, mortal death, or to be forged into a sylph. You see, elemental beings may produce offspring through biological reproduction but many deem it unseemly. We connive to increase our numbers through a method that's easier for our kind but far more perilous for the one who undergoes the forging."

I didn't like the way he said we, including himself in the statement. "Are you saying you've convinced mortals to go through this forging thing?"

"No." A pained look passed over his features, fading swiftly. "I would never encourage another to undertake it."

Good. I couldn't stand to think of him tricking mortals that way. Skeiron, for sure. But not Nevan. "How do elementals get people to do it?"

"We appeal to the fear of death ingrained in most humans." He gave a sharp, bitter laugh. "It worked on me. I accepted Notus's offer, though I had no notion of what it entailed. Believing in an afterlife does not, as I discovered, negate a weak soul's fear of dying."

"You are not weak." My questions must've been exposed on my face, because his mouth formed a sad smile.

"Pain and blood, that's what it entails," he told me. "The forging process demands a hefty price in suffering. I pray you never comprehend the depth of it."

My soul ached for him. The worst I could imagine was horrific, yet I sensed the truth in his prayer for me. I couldn't fathom the agony he'd lived through during his transformation.

"When an elemental offers immortality," he said, "the mortal has no conception of what awaits him."

"They leave out the bad parts, eh? Guess nobody would take the deal if they were transparent about the specifics."

"Indeed." He inched closer and my heart ticked even faster. "Since then, I've learned to be more cautious when entering into bargains."

"Why is it," I said, gazing up into his eyes, "you always smell like earth and thunderstorms?"

He extricated one of his hands from mine, plunging it into my hair to cup my nape. "I told you, I was forged from the earth and the air, imbued with everything in nature."

"There's no dirt in the air."

"Certainly there is." He tipped my head back, as if he meant to kiss me, and my lips parted in anticipation. "All of the elements are swept into the atmosphere. Water, earth, fire — you'll find particles of each in the air that surrounds, fills, and enlivens your mortal body." He dived his head down to mine, our mouths a breath apart. "Your soft, delectable mortal body."

My skin thrummed, alive with the promise implicit in his movements and his words.

He pulled away, strode backward one pace, and gestured down the trail. "After you."

Bereft of his touch, I huffed out a breath. "Do you enjoy torturing me?"

"Your ban on kissing remains in effect." His smug smile irked me. "So in actuality, it is you torturing me."

I breezed past him down the path toward the vortex. "Don't get too pleased with yourself. It's not like I threw myself at you."

"Perhaps not, but you wanted me to kiss you. Licked those ripe lips of yours and opened them in invitation."

"I did not." I had, but not on purpose. My stupid lips had a mind of their own these days.

He smiled brightly, chuckling. "Console yourself however ye like."

"Thank you. I will."

My statement garnered another chuckle. We walked in the comfortable silence I'd come to appreciate, the chattering of squirrels the only disruption to the arboreal serenity. A sky of deep azure peeked out from behind the treetops, and even the humidity sticking to my skin couldn't dampen the spark that still crackled inside me.

We passed the vortex and wended through the rock garden. Up ahead, I caught sight of the shop through the last stand of screening trees. Anxiety trickled down my nerves.

Nevan laid a hand on my wrist. "Don't go spoiling my hard work by tensing up again."

"Oh no," I drawled, "I wouldn't dream of inconveniencing you with my stark panic."

"Shall I accompany you, to offer support when you speak to your family?"

"I appreciate the offer." And I did, with all my heart. "But no. I'd better handle this on my own."

"Of course."

I glanced in the direction of the shop, its roof just visible behind the trees. "Will you be, uh, handling your own business while I'm occupied?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Although I should return to my duties, I find I can't quite motivate myself."

"It's all right. I don't m — " I almost said I didn't mind, which was a lie. "I understand you have a duty and an angry king to satisfy. If you're hesitating because of me, it's not necessary. Don't let me stand in your way."

"You stand in the way of nothing."

"The men I've known would leap at the chance to kiss women for a living."

"After a century of it, they too would grow weary of the task." He kicked at a pebble half embedded in the dirt. "And it's not as if these women come to me of their own volition, or as if I choose them for myself. The desire they feel is engendered by magic, required by my bargain with Skeiron, and the kiss is vacant of meaning or pleasure."

I'd realized he hated his job, but the depth of his distaste for it never sank in until now. "You must kiss other women, for your own… enjoyment. Sexy elemental chicks must line up for the chance."

"No elemental woman will speak to me, much less proffer her lips to mine." He raked a hand through his hair. "And I suddenly find I cannot abide the notion of touching any woman other than you."

His admission stopped me. Telling my brother he was immensely fond of me was one thing. Losing interest in all other females signified a feeling deeper than simple affection, if I let myself believe it. He wouldn't lie, I knew that much.

I glanced around — looking for what, I didn't know. Anything to evade his gaze and the honesty in it. Desperate to change the subject, I asked, "Why won't elemental women touch you? Are they brain damaged, or just completely frigid?"

His dark brows elevated over his preternatural eyes. "Your confidence in me is greatly appreciated, but no. They avoid me because I engage in intimate contact with mortal woman. I am tainted."

"By measly kisses?"

"The mere touch of a hand taints me in the eyes of elemental females. What I've done with you would scandalize them."

My spirits lifted at the notion I'd scandalized supernatural females. Score one for the mortal. "Well, if you're not planning to fulfill your duty, what will you do while I'm gone?"

"Await you in your home." He ran a hand up and down his jaw. "If you'll permit me to enter in your absence."

"Please, feel free. I can give you a key — "

Nevan poofed away.

Politeness really was a foreign concept to elementals.

By the time I reached the RV, my parents had opened the door for me and waited on the top step.

No more chickening out.

"I need to come clean with you," I said, my voice surprisingly steady, "about a lot of things. To start with, I need to tell you the truth about Calder."

*****

The door clapped shut behind me and I slumped against it, grateful for the twilit tranquility of my apartment. The draft from the air conditioning chilled my skin, drying the sweat and humidity stuck to me.

A shiver of awareness swept over me. Darkness cloaked the room, but the secondhand glow from outside filtered through the blinds, outlining a suspiciously familiar shape on the sofa.

"Nevan," I said, pushing away from the door.

Despite knowing what I'd find, when I hit the switch and light inundated the space, my pulse jumped at the sudden sight of Nevan reclined on the sofa, ankles crossed, feet braced on the worn carpeting. On spotting me, he slung an arm across the sofa's back as if waiting for me to snuggle against him.

I scuffled toward the end of the sofa. "You're still here."

"Naturally." He studied me with measured curiosity for a moment, then patted the sofa, inviting me to cuddle under his arm. "You look exhausted. Sit, before you collapse."

I tossed my purse on the floor. My car keys jangled inside it. Fatigue had seeped into every cell of my being, weighing me down and smearing grit in my eyes. Rubbing them, I clambered onto the sofa and curled up against him as he secured his arm around me. Knees tucked under me, I rested my head in the hollow of his shoulder.

"How did your confession go?" he asked, in a tone that implied he didn't care either way. Under the nonchalance, however, I discerned a sharp taint of darker emotion. Was he jealous I'd told my parents the truth and not him?

Hmm. Interesting.

I sketched curving lines on his chest with my fingertips, focused on the expanse of skin that became my canvas. "My parents needed to hear the story first."

He fiddled with the hem of my sleeve, staring into the vacant space between the sofa and my bedroom door.

"I was planning on telling you," I said, "after I talked to my family. This is after."

His gaze wandered over the meager contents of my apartment. Though he appeared unconcerned, I felt his body stiffen.

I spread my palm on his chest, propping my chin on his shoulder so I could watch his face. "I'm going to tell you about Calder, unless you're not interested anymore."

His fingers stilled. His eyes rotated my way, and though his expression stayed neutral, his lips tightened the slightest bit. "I assumed you wouldn't share the tale with me."

"You assume an awful lot, pal. Maybe you don't understand me as thoroughly as you think."

Without a trace of glibness, he said, "I admit it's possible."

"Are you offended I didn't tell you first?"

"Why should I be? I've no claim on you."

Yes you do. Sometimes I hated it, sometimes I longed to drown myself in it, but always I knew — if nothing else, on a subconscious level — he had staked a claim.

"Calder was Travis's brother, but I guess you know that already." An iron ball congealed in my gut and I laid my cheek on his shoulder, dreading what I must say. "I met Travis five years ago, when I got a paralegal job in Texas. We were friends, I thought. Not besties forever and ever, but we had nice conversations. Until his brother showed up."

This was where everything got complicated, and I took a moment to compose my thoughts. I needed Nevan to understand, maybe because I needed someone, anyone, to absolve me. As if it were possible. What I'd done could not be erased.

I snaked my arm across his broad torso, like I had any hope of holding him here if he decided to vanish again. "Calder had gone to New York after college to find himself, or some such nonsense. He came back humiliated, a failure in his own eyes. I could relate. From the moment we met, we just kind of… clicked."

Nevan stiffened a teensy bit, but he planted a tender kiss atop my head.

The story flowed out of me now, an unstoppable river of words. "I don't know why, but Travis did not like me dating his brother. He loved Calder, they'd been very close until I got in the way. Didn't mean to, but somehow I did." Memories unreeled in my mind fueling my voice with half-forgotten fears. "Calder was charming, sweet, intelligent, polite, and completely infatuated with me. I'd never been the object of anyone's affection before. He didn't even care I'm a moldy old virgin."

Nevan grunted. I hesitated, thinking he might speak, but he kept silent.

"I was with Calder for six months," I told him. "When he asked me to marry him, I said yes without reservation. Everything was good — until I decided to sleep with him."

With my ear to Nevan's chest, I counted the thump-thumps of his heart. They sped up a bit, as if he sensed what was coming. I fastened my arm tighter around him, praying his body could ground me to the present while I careened into the past.

"I told him I wanted to, you know, go all the way with him. We made a date for that night, but he stood me up, which was not like him at all." I drew me knees up, curling into myself while sheltered by Nevan. He enfolded me in his arms, the embrace protective and more comforting than I could articulate.

"He texted me," I continued, "saying he was sorry but his car broke down and he couldn't make it. We rescheduled for the next night, at eight o'clock. I went shopping in the morning, bought sexy lingerie, and I cooked a fancy meal for our candlelit date. I was so excited, so happy. But he didn't show. Again."

I crossed my arms over my knees, resting my chin on them. My insides quivered with a cold fear, a ghost of that night when everything changed.

"Take your time," Nevan murmured. "Or tell me no more. Your choice."

His understanding buoyed me to go on. "I fell asleep, in my sexy lingerie, still waiting for him after three hours. I woke up choking, with Calder's hands around my throat."

Nevan hooked a hand under my knees and eased me onto his lap. I huddled there, protected by his strong limbs, and let the tears pour out in silence. They oozed down my cheeks, hot and fast, streams of pain and regret that singed my skin. I didn't want to finish the story, but knew I had to do it. He needed to hear the rest. I needed him to hear it. Right here, right now, my future seemed to hinge on his reaction.

"Calder was all wild energy and mad conviction. I don't know how else to describe it. He'd gotten in with the key I gave him. But this wasn't the man I knew, the one I thought I loved. He was like a demon, with his crazy-wild eyes and his insane strength, and I realized he was going to rape me or kill me — or both."

Nevan caressed my hair, his face buried in the locks. The heat of his breaths rolled over my scalp.

"He tried to tie me up, to blindfold me. I kicked him in the nuts, which slowed him down for about a nanosecond. He tore my nightie, threw me onto the floor, clawed at me, and then — " I clutched Nevan's hand, but he didn't even wince when my nails cut into his skin. "He bit me. Repeatedly."

Nevan growled, a half-strangled noise, and hugged me tight.

I couldn't manage more than a whisper. "His teeth cut my ear the worst. He had his hands around my throat again, so tight I couldn't breathe. The whole time, he was babbling nonsense about blood being the key and I had to die to be stronger, to be his mate forever."

When I'd recounted the story to my parents, I hadn't cried. I'd held my emotions locked up, like always, because I never would've gotten through the ordeal of telling them otherwise. But here, with Nevan, the steel walls of my mental vault crumbled away into dust. The anguish and terror rushed through me with the same force they had that night.

"I had a semiautomatic pistol in my bedside table. When I grabbed the gun, Calder looked at it and laughed. I'll never forget the last thing he said. 'Mine forever, sweet thing, or no one's.' Then he rushed at me and I didn't have time to think, I knew I'd be dead unless — " I gritted my teeth, inhaling sharply through my nose. "I shot him seven times, six in the chest and once in the head. I emptied an entire clip into him and killed the man I was going to marry. That was the first time I saw a dead body."

The image of Brad's limp and bloodied form reared up in my mind. My stomach seemed to surge up into my throat. "When I found the dead guy the other day, I kept expecting Calder to jump out at me. Don't know why. He's gone, he has to be, I killed him."

Like a statue in an ancient temple, Nevan remained unmoving and seemingly unmoved. I new better, though. Beneath his calm exterior, he contained a sea of emotions.

"It was my fault," I said. "I'd made Calder wait for… you know, sex. Made him wait too long and it pushed him over the edge. I wrecked him, and then I murdered him."

At last, Nevan spoke. "You murdered no one, sweet Lindsey. You shot him in self-defense. I imagine the sheriff convinced you withholding sex drove his brother to insanity."

"It's why he calls me ice princess. I'm so cold I freeze men's balls off, that's what he said at the time."

Nevan muttered something under his breath that might've been a curse in another language. "There's more, isn't there?"

A gentle query. I bent my head back to gaze at him. "After I shot Calder, I sat there shaking and crying for I don't know how long. I finally called nine-one-one, then I stumbled into the bathroom to throw up and put on some clothes. By the time the cops arrived, Calder's body was gone."

Nevan betrayed no surprise, no reaction at all, except for the gentle motion of his hand smoothing my hair, over and over, in slow sweeps. "You loved him."

"Thought I did. Not sure anymore. Maybe I don't really know what love is."

"You'll know it when you feel it." He turned me toward him so he could capture my gaze with his own. "Listen to me. Lack of sex does not compel a man to assault any woman, much less the one he claims to love. I know this for a fact."

I supposed he did, after a century of forced celibacy, but still…

As if he'd read my mind, Nevan grasped my face in his hands and said in a fierce voice, "You did not drive him mad. Besides, you were about to give yourself to him, so why would he choose that moment to snap?"

"Don't know. The snowball effect, I guess, and I decided too late — "

"No." He bent closer, our eyes level, his scorching with unnamed emotions. "You did nothing. He was weak. You are strong and good and deserve happiness."

I could no nothing except stare at him. He kept telling me how amazing I was, while I kept questioning everything, expecting him to change the way Calder had. But he wasn't Calder. Swimming in the whirlpool of Nevan's eyes, I finally understood this one fact. I knew Nevan's nature, because he'd never hidden it from me — from the jovial pseudo-Irishman to the primal warrior to the intensely sensual man, I'd witnessed every aspect of him.

I wanted to share my revelation with him, but when I opened my mouth, instead of speaking I yawned.

"Stressful day," I said around my big, loud yawn.

Nevan rose to his feet, taking me with him. In a dangerously hushed voice, he said, "If I had the power, I would travel back to that night and tear the man's head off with my bare hands before he had a chance to harm you."

I believed he both could and would do it, if given the chance. Settling my palm on his cheek, my fingertips on his temple, I felt a vein throbbing there. "The battle's long over. You can't do anything to change it and neither can I."

His eyes hooded, he turned his face into my palm. I skimmed my thumb over his mouth. His lips moved under my thumb, his tongue flicked out to sample my flesh.

Nevan stepped back, a sure sign he was about leave.

"Stay," I said. "Please. I don't want to be alone."

He nodded.

"Just let me change into my nightie first."

I hurried into the bedroom, switched my day clothes for my satin nightie, and called Nevan into the room. He strode to the dilapidated wooden chair in the corner by the window, plucked my satin robe off the seat, and lowered his lithe body onto the chair. The robe he draped over his lap, his fingers stroking the fabric. His gaze heated when he soaked in the sight of me in my skimpy nightie, with its spaghetti straps, plunging neckline, and mid-thigh hem.

"You are lovely," he said, petting my robe. "My tasty little morsel."

"Tasty morsel? I am not food."

"But you are delectable." He crooked his fingers into the robe, as if kneading flesh. "I know the taste of your kiss, love, sweet and spiced with all those luscious desires you keep bottled up. When you let go at last, I will feast on the rest of you as well."

For several seconds, I couldn't move or breathe. Feast on the rest of me. Though I tried so hard not to, I envisioned all the ways he might do just that.

I snatched my nightie off the bed and marched into the bathroom, kicking the door shut. I banged my knees on the sink, twice, while stripping off my clothes. The bathroom had just enough space between the sink and the wall to accommodate me, but no more than that, which was why I preferred changing in the bedroom. Not an option tonight.

When I emerged, Nevan grinned with wolfish delight.

My nightie was skimpy, but nobody was supposed to see it. I liked the satin fabric on my skin. The spaghetti straps and mid-thigh hem kept me cool on these hot summer nights. I wore the nightie for me, not for leering sylphs.

He wasn't leering, though. He admired me, his gaze exploring the length of my body. By the time he finished his assessment, arousal had me in its velvety grip and I had to clamp my thighs together to quell the wet pulsing there. It didn't help. No man had ever looked at me the way he did. Like he wanted to devour every inch of my body.

I scuttled to the bed, flinging the covers back.

Nevan lifted my robe to his face and inhaled. His smile took on a predatory slant. "This garment smells of you, of honeysuckle and sunshine."

My knees bumped the mattress. "Baloney. Sunshine has no scent and I don't smell like honeysuckle."

"Ah, but you do. And you taste of strawberries."

Snorting, I sat on the bed. "Haven't eaten a strawberry in weeks."

"Nevertheless, you taste of them. Elementals can detect aromas and flavors mortals can't. Human men have no idea what they're missing." He frisked the satin across his lips. "You leave a fragment of your essence on everything you touch."

"Guess that means you're stuck smelling like me."

He let the robe tumble to the floor, where it puddled around his feet. "If I could, I'd bathe in your scent so I might enjoy it every moment of the day."

If he'd walked over here, I would've dragged him down onto the bed on top of me. My annoying brain, however, preferred to torture me with fear. "What about my family? Will Brennus go after them?"

My question shattered his rapture. "I don't know."

"You need to guard them."

"I will not leave you."

"Please, Nevan, I'm begging you. Watch over my family. They have no clue what's going on."

He worked his lips, finally settling on a lopsided frown. "I will not leave you alone all night, but I'll pop over every so often to check on your family. Satisfied?"

"Thank you."

He rolled his eyes heavenward. "Your manners will be the death of us yet."

I crawled under the covers, pulling them up to my neck. The cotton sheet and acrylic blanket failed to dull the effect of Nevan's gaze on me.

"Sleep well, my scrumptious mortal," he said, with humor in his voice.

"Yeah-yeah, goodnight."

I shut off the bedside lamp. Shadows descended, obscuring Nevan, obscuring anything that might be hiding nearby, invisible. He was a silhouette in the moonlight seeping through the lace curtains, his eyes simmering with muted amber.

Rolling onto my side, facing away from him, I began the fruitless battle for sleep. Memories of Calder and Skeiron and Brennus tormented me. With a huff, I flipped over to the other side, only to endure another replay of past horrors. I flipped back the other way. All the while, I was acutely aware of Nevan's gaze tickling my skin.

I punched my pillow. "Unh."

"Something the matter?"

"Can't sleep. No idea why, there's only a supernatural assassin stalking me at this very moment."

The wood chair he sat on creaked. As the shuffling of bare feet on carpeting came nearer, I resisted the instinct to glance over my shoulder. His presence had become a tangible thing, a light caress against my soul, both terrifying and thrilling me.

His weight settled onto the bed, rocking me a little. His firm, hot body nestled up against my backside as he sprawled an arm over my hip, letting it fall across my belly. His fingertips teased me through the fabric of my nightie.

"I will protect you," he said, "if you'll allow me to."

The strange part? Those were the most enticing words he'd spoken. "Still can't sleep."

He feathered his fingers over my belly. "I will watch over you."

My gaze inexorably moved to the deeper shadows in the corners.

Nevan withdrew his hand from under the sheet. "Perhaps a bit of illumination will ease your mind."

I expected him to switch on the lamp, but instead, he raised his hand in the air and flourished his fingers. A spark ignited in his palm, enlarging into a fist-size ball of incandescent, glittering light. He tossed the orb into the air and it hovered near the ceiling, directly over the bed, casting a delicate glow. Tiny sparks floated down from the orb, disintegrating before they touched us.

"What is that?" I asked.

"A fairy light," he said, tucking his hand under the blanket again, right over my womb. "A fae owed me a favor and gifted me with fairy lights in return. Sleep now."

The orb's glow was oddly comforting and I couldn't prevent myself from going limp as I exhaled out the tension. Cocooned by his body, enveloped in his supple flesh and tough sinew, I floated down from consciousness toward slumber.

His kiss intoxicated me. But this… I could get so addicted.

Nevan murmured to me, sweet and hushed. "Dream of me, Lindsey."

As if I could dream of anything else.