24

Nevan insisted we eat before discussing his outrageous claim any further and my stomach had chosen that moment to growl, so I deferred to him this once. He took me into his kitchen, where I observed from atop a high stool while he moved this way and that, preparing a meal even more enticing than the one he'd brought me that first night.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten, or what I'd eaten. The meal he whipped up for me this morning roused my taste buds with decadent flavors and sumptuous textures, laced with hints of the exotic, every bite of it designed to make me moan with pleasure. Lord, the man could cook.

Throughout the meal, he picked at his food, pretending to partake — for my benefit, no doubt. He kept frowning, only for a second each time, and rubbing the back of his neck. The tension mounting in him was subtle yet definite, but I was too starved to pause for an interrogation. Once I'd wolfed down the last of my meal, I wiped my mouth with the silky napkin he'd provided, realigning my butt on the stool to face him.

"Something's bothering you," I said, setting the napkin on the counter. Yeah, I was avoiding the Janusite discussion, but for a good reason. "What happened while you were gone earlier? Where did you go?"

He turned away, leaned against the counter behind him, and clamped his fingers over its edge.

I watched him stand there like a statue for several minutes, his profile offering no clues to his agitation, until I could take the silence no longer. "You need to practice your sharing skills."

He grunted.

Jumping off the stool, I marched in front of him. "Explain."

I phrased it as a command rather than a request, to sidestep the danger of saying please and all that craziness. Besides, I was getting damn tired of begging him to be honest with me.

Nevan let his head fall back, his eyes directed at the ceiling but his gaze retreating somewhere much further away.

I roped my arms around his neck, my hands at his nape, and pressed my entire body to his. God, the feel of his skin on mine never failed to crackle desire through me.

His breath hitched.

I lavished an open-mouth kiss on his throat, determined to lure him back from his thoughts, rewarded by his eyes homing in on mine. "Come on, you know I won't back down until you tell me."

After a pause, he said, "I went out to assess the danger, to determine if Skeiron has healed yet. I came upon a battalion of his soldiers."

When he fell silent again, I prodded, "And?"

"I overheard them discussing the king's swift recovery and their orders to hunt down both of us. I was about to leave when — " He squeezed his eyes shut, grimacing. "One of them spotted me. I'd cloaked myself, becoming invisible, but the glamour must've slipped. Or I slipped." He opened his eyes and shook his head. "I failed you yet again."

"You have never failed me."

His hands fell to his sides, his entire body slumped. "They nearly caught me. I escaped, as your kind would say, by the skin of my teeth."

"But you did escape. That's the important thing."

Though he nodded, my gut told me he didn't truly believe it.

He stomped out of the kitchen.

Totally confused, I stared after him for a moment before I took off at a trot to catch up. He'd gone into the living area, halting at its center. My gaze wandered to the bed, rumpled from our passion the previous night.

Nevan stood tall and stiff, hands fisted at his sides, his jaw tight enough to grind diamonds to powder. "Skeiron is hunting for us as we speak."

I approached him from the side, reaching out a tentative hand to touch his arm. "We'll face him together."

"You will stay here." He rolled his shoulders back, lifting his chin to stared down at me. "I will destroy him. Alone."

"You tried that already. He came way too close to killing you." Realization raised all the hairs on my arms. "Quit trying to get rid of me. I won't hide. And you can't seriously expect me to stay here, in this underground lair, while you go fight the bad guys."

"I do. And you will."

"Like hell I will." I tipped my own chin up. "I am going with you."

"No. I will not permit it."

I drew back, feeling as if he'd struck me. "You will not permit it? I'm not your sex slave, who you can lock up in this dungeon until the next time you get horny."

"Lindsey — "

"Quit saying my name like that." I jabbed a finger in the air near his chest. A different kind of fire raged inside me, one borne of fury. "I'm not a child. And I make up my own mind about what risks to take."

"You are only safe as long as you remain within the wards. They are magical spells that prevent anyone else from entering my home." He threw his hands up, eyes going wild and sparking with electric blue and searing white. The colors of fear. He shook his head and his dark hair quivered around his face. "I cannot protect you out there."

"You said you'd never abandon me."

He jerked his head up, eyes intent on me. "I will return for you."

I moved closer but did not touch him. His fear unnerved me, and a compelling urge to soothe him flowed through me, softening my voice. "Nevan, think about it. What happens if Skeiron kills you this time? I'll be stuck here with no way out."

Though he didn't react, I glimpsed something indefinable in his eyes that told me he'd recognized the truth of our situation and knew I was right.

I reached for him, but he spun away from me, clutching his head in his hands as he stalked back and forth across the room, his pace increasing with each circuit. He thrashed his head, muttering things I couldn't make out. He might've been speaking another language, or just mumbling nonsense. When his pace turned frenetic, I thrust out a hand to halt him.

My fingers curled around his bicep, I stroked my thumb over his skin. "There's a risk either way. If I go with you, at least I'll know what happens to you — and vice versa."

He turned his face up to me, the anguish there tearing at my heart.

I threaded my fingers between his. "I want to be with you, whatever happens."

A moment — maybe two or three or ten — in which neither of us spoke or moved. We regarded each other, fingers and gazes entwined, unwilling to sever the connection yet unable to bridge the gap between us. Just when I feared he'd zip away, leaving me here alone, he folded me into his arms and said, "I wish to be with you as well. Whatever comes."

"Good. Because I'm way too stubborn to let you have your way."

"I suppose I must accept that." He swaddled me tighter in his arms. "You cannot ignore the truth any longer. You are the Janusite."

"That's ridiculous." Plastered to him, I suddenly became aware of our nudity. Of my nudity. I scrambled out of his embrace and said, "I can't fight Skeiron in the buff. Where are my clothes?"

He waved toward a cushy chair. My clothes were stacked on the seat, neat and clean.

As I hurried toward my clothing, Nevan remained glued in place. I yanked my clothes on with violent movements, my hands shaking faintly — whether from fear of the battle to come or fear of considering the possibility I was the Janusite, I couldn't say. By the time I had my boots laced, I remembered my derringer and began frantically combing the room for it, going to so far as to drop to my knees and peer under the bed. When I came up empty, I clambered to my feet and muttered. "Shit."

Nevan flew to me — whoosh, he was there. "What is it?"

"I lost my gun."

He held out one hand and my gun poofed into his palm, tucked inside its holster.

I plucked the holster from his hand, slipping it inside my waist band and clipping it onto my jeans.

"You feel safer with it," he said.

"Sure. I like my gun." I rose onto tiptoes to peck his cheek. "But I don't really feel safe unless I'm with you."

He studied me as if I'd babbled in gibberish.

I smoothed my shirt, but the outline of my holster still showed. "Time to fight Skeiron, eh? Guess we better get moving. Don't suppose you have a plan this time."

"In a manner of speaking." He cranked one corner of his mouth into a expression of dismay. "I rid the world of Skeiron whatever the cost, and if necessary, I will bargain with him to save you."

"Bargain? No. I forbid you to do it."

"Alas, I don't always do as I'm told." He ran a finger down my jawline, to tap my chin. "I will give up my freedom, my life, my soul, for one reason alone. For you."

"I don't want you to. You're already enslaved, who knows what Skeiron would demand for this. And if I'm the Janusite, he won't bargain at all."

"Perhaps. But I will try — for you." He edged closer, until I had to bend my head back to meet his gaze, and said, "Not for the Janusite. For you. Lindsey Astrid Porter."

I screwed up my mouth. "How do you know my middle name?"

"Your mother told me."

"Never say it again. It's goofy."

"But it's charming. Do you know its meaning?" When I shrugged, he told me, "It means beloved goddess."

"If you say so."

"You are a goddess," he said, "in every way. And you are beloved, by your family and friends."

His eyes grew… misty? Dear lord.

"And by me as well," he added.

Nevan's confession set my stomach to fluttering, hardly a useful state to be in considering the upcoming battle. "Getting back to Skeiron, we need some kind of plan."

Nevan let out a frustrated grumble. "What would you have me do? I have no chance of acquiring an endued weapon before we encounter Skeiron."

"I'm not exactly unarmed." I patted the holster inside my jeans. "I know you'd rather I hide under the bed, but I was helpful last time you went to war with Skeiron."

"Helpful? You came close to dying and indebted yourself to a leprechaun."

"Well," I said, "have you got a better idea?"

"I have no ideas."

He sounded so desolate, I longed to pull him into my arms and kiss away his anguish. "How about if I give you permission to whisk me away anytime you deem it necessary, provided I'm in serious danger?"

"That would be acceptable, though not preferable."

"In that case, you have my permission — exactly as I outlined it." I considered my options for a moment, then said, "I've got an idea."

One of his brows arched. "I imagine I won't approve."

"Probably not." I slanted toward him, angling my head back to meet his gaze. "But look at it his way. You've got no other options, so you might as well try my crazy idea."

"Which is?"

"Gather my allies."

His lip curled as his head popped backward. "Mortals? Against the king of the sylphs?"

"Hey!" I nudged his shin with my boot. "This mortal saved your ass. Don't get snooty about it."

"Snooty?"

"Yeah, it means uppity." I lifted my shirt hem to reveal my holstered derringer. "I have a gun and my parents are well armed. The sheriff owes me a big one. Hell, we might even get some heavy artillery, if I play the guilt card heavy enough."

"Four mortals will not be enough — "

"And there's Tris." At Nevan's disbelieving look, I explained, "I'm positive he will help. The kid's not all that bad."

Nevan sniffed, with a haughty bob of his head. "I stand corrected. Four mortals, an irritating fae, and me. Salvation, at last."

"Better odds than last time, at least."

He scratched his head. His face twisted into a mixture of agony and severe annoyance. Finally, he threw his head back and groaned. "All right. We try your plan."

"Good." I extended my hand to him. "Let's go."

"One moment."

I started to balk, but his look of intense concentration stopped me. He stared into nothing, eyes distant, body taut and erect.

Metal plates materialized around his limbs.

I choked on a gasp. He'd conjured a freaking suit of armor.

The metal shone bright silver, with feathery veins of bronze and gold shot through it. A matching helmet appeared on his head, with the face plate flipped up, and leather boots affixed with plates forged from the same metal encased his feet and ankles. His sword, the one I'd used on Skeiron, took shape in his hand.

I slid my tongue over my lower lips as I scanned him from head to toe. "If you want to have sex again before we go, I'm game."

His smile was sensual and very, very intimate. "Later."

When he held his hand out to me, I took it. He zipped us out of his home.

My feet touched down on solid earth, in the woods, at the base of a low hill. "Barely even felt it this time."

"Perhaps you are adjusting."

I squinted into the darkness. "Where are we?"

"Outside my home." He hugged me tight. His armor fit so well it was like a much harder version of his skin. "We should have appeared at the portal."

His confused tone rippled dread through me.

"Why didn't we?" I asked.

"I've no idea." He canted his head, as if listening. "I felt energy fire through me. Only once before have I experienced anything like… "

"What is it?" I whispered, though I wasn't sure why.

"We must go."

He vanished.

I staggered a step, off balance from the loss of his support. Even more than his body, though, the loss of him echoed through a hollow space in my soul. He'd abandoned me.

No. He would not desert me.

I felt energy fire through me, he'd said.

A surge of air blasted over me, setting off an electric thrill of anticipation. "Nevan!"

I whirled around — and came face to face with Skeiron.

The king of the sylphs regarded me with a warped smile and eyes bright with cold blues and greens. "I'm afraid Nevan cannot return to you. Unless I command it."

I spun away.

He catapulted his body toward me. His arms cinched tight around my torso, strapping my arms to my sides. "Nevan, come here."

Nevan materialized in front of us, his armor gone.

Posture stiff, face blank, eyes dull and still as a stagnant pond, he directed his gaze at his king.

Awaiting orders. Bound to heed his master's whims.

I struggled in Skeiron's grasp, but he only tightened his arms around me.

"You see," he said, "Nevan belongs to me. He serves my will, not yours — and not his own."

Skeiron shoved me toward Nevan. "Hold her."

Nevan shackled me in his brawny arms, and for the first time, being pinioned to his body shot an arctic chill through me.

The sylph king waved a hand. "Strangle her."

Nevan clamped a single hand around my throat and squeezed until I sputtered, choking on every attempt to inhale. Stars burst in my vision, but blackness swept in from the edges to consume my vision bit by bit. I clawed at Nevan's hand, kicked at his shins. He lifted me off the ground, cranking his hand tighter and tighter. I couldn't breathe, couldn't gurgle, couldn't shake his grip no matter how hard I thrashed. A final, desperate ploy exploded like a bomb in my mind.

Stop, Nevan, you're killing me.

When Skeiron dropped a ceiling on me, I'd called to Nevan with my thoughts and he rushed to my side. Now, the solitary response was a weak flicker of red in his eyes and a slight downward tick of his mouth.

My lungs were on fire. My vision telescoped down until all I could see was Nevan's eyes.

"Enough," Skeiron said, his tone bored. "I need her alive."

Releasing my throat, Nevan restrained me with his arms again, holding my feet off the ground. I hacked until my chest throbbed, knowing I could not escape.

"Show her to me," the king said, and damn, did he have the authoritative, kingly arrogance thing down pat.

Nevan flipped me around, barring one arm over my hips and the other across my chest, buckling my arms down. I had no leeway to struggle, except with my feet. When I thrashed them, he locked one powerful leg around both of mine, constraining me while balanced on one foot. If he were mortal, I could've knocked him off balance, but his preternatural agility kept him steady even when I struggled in his grasp.

Skeiron sauntered to us, his freaky eyes on me. "Are you the Janusite?"

"Does it look like I am?"

One side of his mouth slanted upward as he slid a finger down my jaw. "Mortals are so predictable. Fighting the inevitable, believing they can win."

"What about you? Searching for a lowly human female to escort you across the boundary, because you're too impotent to do it yourself."

"Watch your tongue, mortal."

"My name is Lindsey Astrid Porter."

Skeiron kept his gaze nailed to mine but no longer spoke to me. "Nevan, have you witnessed any evidence she is the Janusite?"

Nevan's muscles went rigid around me, his fingers crooking into my flesh. In a dead voice, he replied, "Yes."

"Tell me."

One of his fingers jerked, pressing into my hip. "She — transported me across the boundary."

My stomach plummeted through the ground, but then I heard the faintest wisp of tension in his voice and hope sparked to life inside me. Though he'd ratted on me, he hadn't mentioned I wasn't touching him when we crossed the boundary. Important or not, the fact would've interested Skeiron for sure. Maybe Nevan was fighting his bargain after all.

"What else?" the king asked, his voice hushed but thick with a seething fury.

Nevan's foot fell away from my legs, no longer binding them. "She opened a portal without assistance."

"Is that all the evidence you've seen which identifies her as the Janusite?"

"Yes."

The spark of hope blossomed into a full-blown flame. He hadn't said a thing about the strange energy he sensed in me, or about me calling Tris to help resurrect him. He was still in there, rebelling against his king's hold on him.

It wasn't enough.

"Take her to the dungeon," Skeiron said.

Nevan rocketed us away.