His dangerous face clenched. “You’re mine,” he told her.
For a blistering instant, she had no idea what to say to that. Then hey, another lightbulb moment came along and she was on a roll. “Letting go of my wrist doesn’t change a thing,” she murmured. She mimicked what he had done to her earlier and stroked a finger down the side of his face, then laid her hand against his cheek. “Please.”
His fingers loosened and he let her pull away.
She got to her unsteady feet, somehow managed to stay upright and turned to face the Elven leader, who gave her a slight bow. He stared at her. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
Interior alarm bells started to ring, but all the lightbulbs had left her high and dry. She shook her head and said, “We’ve never met.”
“I’m sure I’ve seen you before. You look—” The Elf’s sea-colored gaze widened. “You look exactly like—”
Dragos curled a hand around her ankle.
“Yeah, I look like Greta Garbo,” she interrupted in a loud voice. A pulse of dread dampened her skin. Shut up, Elf. “I get that a lot.”
“My lady, I am so honored to meet you,” the Elven leader breathed. He bowed low to her, his previous generic respect turned to reverence. When he straightened, his face was alight with joy. “You have no idea how we hoped and prayed that something of your mother still remained in this world.”
All the other Elves stared at them, their faces alight with curiosity. She scowled at the Elven leader. “I have no idea what you are talking about,” she told him.
He seemed to start and come to himself. His joy became muted but she could still feel it beating in him. He smiled at her and said, “Of course, forgive me. I am mistaken.”
Then his telepathic voice sounded in her head like deep bell chimes in the wind. My name is Ferion. I knew a woman once who looked much like you. Meeting her was one of the greatest gifts of my life.
I am honored that you would share that with me, she said. But it is dangerous for me that we talk of this, and I am not that woman. In fact, I am very much less than that woman.
Not to my eyes, he said. Please allow us to offer you sanctuary. I know our Lord and Lady would greet you with joy every bit as deep as my own. We would treasure your presence among us.
She hesitated and for a moment, oh, she was tempted. The thought of such a welcome wrung at her lonely heart. But Ferion’s reverence brought her up short. She didn’t think she could bear to live with such regard. Not when she was so much less than what he thought she was, nothing very special at all, just a glow-in-the-dark night-light and a stupid parlor trick and a big mouth that got her into too much trouble. Living with the Elves, where she would feel like a fraud while she aged and died and they remained forever the same, would just be a different kind of loneliness.
The jealous hand on her ankle tightened. She looked down at Dragos, who was watching her with a narrowed gaze.
I thank you for the offer of sanctuary. Perhaps one day I may take you up on it, she said to Ferion. While she couldn’t accept, she couldn’t bear to say no, either, to what might be the only home ever offered to her. In the meantime, I have a debt to pay.
Ferion said aloud, “Lady, I beg of you, come away with us. Do not stay with the Beast.”
She squatted by Dragos and dared to peek under the hoodie covering his wound. It had stopped bleeding. She mopped the blood streaks from his shoulder as gently as she could, wiped her hands on the material and folded the bloodied part into the rest of the hoodie.
“This train wreck all is my fault,” she said. “I have to do what I can to make it right.”
Dragos’s grip on her leg eased. His fingers slid along her calf in a subtle movement.
It annoyed her so much, she snapped at him. “But no matter what ridiculous thing you say, I am not yours. You wouldn’t be here except for me so I will see you to the Elven border. I know you lost your head, and you got all scary and obsessive and territorial, and you want to get back your property and all that, but come on. All I took was a freaking penny. Besides, I already gave you another one.”
One corner of his long, sexy, cruel mouth lifted in a smile.
The Elves refused to touch Dragos, so she had to help him as much as she could. By the time he had pushed himself off the ground and she had gotten herself insinuated under his good arm, the Elves had disappeared. She knew better than to believe they were gone.
“You took a 1962 penny,” Dragos said. His teeth were gritted. “You left a 1975 penny. It’s no replacement.”
She stared at him. “Oh my God, it’s scary you noticed that.”
“I know everything in my hoard and exactly where it is,” he told her. “Down to the smallest piece.”
“You could go to a doctor, get checked out for OCD,” she panted. “There might be medication for that.”