Page 17
I lift the fabric to reveal a long, pink slice curving from my right hip up toward my ribs. The skin around it remains tight and glossy, still too new for my magic to smooth it away.
Caelan moves closer, kneeling before me to study the mark. His breath fans warm across my exposed skin, raising goose bumps in its wake. When his fingers reach out to trace the scar, a shiver goes through me.
His feather-light touch maps over my abdomen, the territory he’s touched before now changed. The pad of his thumb follows the curve of the scar, and my muscles contract beneath his exploration.
“The shapeshifter?” he asks, the question coming out husky.
“Dusted,” I say, the words thick as desire curls through me.
His hand slides higher beneath my shirt, following the path of the scar to where it ends below my breast. Our eyes lock as his palm flattens over my ribs, feeling the rapid rise and fall of my breathing.
“I missed you,” he confesses, the words rough with emotion.
A shaky sigh escapes me.
His free hand rises to cup my jaw, thumb brushing across my cheekbone. “I spent years wondering if you were safe. If you thought of us at all.”
Again, the guilt prickles beneath my skin. It had only been a few months for me, but to him, I’ve been gone long enough to be mourned.
The moonstone burns hot now, pulsing in time with my heartbeat.
Caelan’s eyes drop to it, watching the silver light dance beneath the surface. “It recognizes me.”
“Because you’re Elionn’s twin?”
His hand slides from my cheek to curl around the back of my neck. “Because it recognizes what’s between us as the same as what’s between you and him.”
My breath catches. “And what’s that?”
Instead of answering, he rises to his full height, his body now inches from mine. The scent of berries and moonlight envelops me, so distinct from the human men I’ve encountered since returning home.
His otherworldliness both attracts and warns me to be cautious. He’s not human, will never be human, and loving him means accepting these fundamental differences.
We lean in at the same time, and our lips meet with hunger. His mouth is cool at first, then blazing hot as the kiss deepens. My fingers tangle in his silver braids, the crystals woven through them digging into my palms. His hands span my waist, lifting me until my feet leave the floor.
He fills my mouth with wild berries and moonlight, sweet and tart at once. I bite his lower lip, and he groans, the sound vibrating through my body. Purple blood beads where my teeth break open his wound, and I lick it away, rich as wine on my tongue.
He walks us backward until my spine meets the wall, the cold stone at my back a contrast to the heat of his body molded to my front. His hands slip beneath my shirt again, this time with purpose rather than curiosity.
“Wait,” I gasp, pulling back to give us space to catch our breath. “This doesn’t change anything. I’m still leaving after we find Elionn.”
Pain flashes as he rests his forehead on mine. “I understand. But right now, you’re here.”
The acceptance costs him. I see it in the tight line of his mouth and the tension in his shoulders. For a fae prince to acknowledge his lack of control over the situation runs counter to everything his position demands.
My hands frame his cheeks, fingertips brushing over the bruises. “If I’d known you wouldn’t call the healer, I wouldn’t have damaged your pretty face.”
“Yes, you would have.”
His mouth finds mine again, and I let myself forget about missing princes and Dark Sithes and unbreakable life-bonds. For this moment, there is only Caelan, the cool wall at my back, and the heat building between us.
6
THE ANCHOR AND THE BLADE
CAELAN
Itighten the last buckle on my vest, and the leather creaks in the hush before dawn. Pale light seeps through the carved window shutters, spilling across the floor in narrow bands.
