The tip of the vine was still embedded in him, but severed from the rest of the vine, it wasn’t the bright green of a healthy plant, it was dead, brown, and brittle. That didn’t make the thumb sized thorns any less difficult to dig out though.
Cursing under his breath, he used the same knife he’d stabbed her with to lift the four thorns out. Unable to stop from grunting as he painfully worked them free. The first two were no problem, they’d only gone skin deep. The third one, however, had pierced his calf muscle; it took many painful stop and go’s to free himself of that one. The fourth nearly made him black out.
The moment he touched the knife to the underside of the vine to pull it free, he knew it’d pierced the tip of his bone. Roaring as the fiery pain sizzled throughout every nerve ending, he blinked against the white spots dancing in his vision. His skin broke out in a fine sheen of sweat that had nothing to do with the midday sun.
“You can do this you bloody damn fool,” he spat and then shoving a thick twig into his mouth to bite down on, he yanked on the final thorn with all his might.
And immediately passed out.
The moment Danika stepped foot inside the Cave of Song memories overcame her. Memories of her and Jericho together for the first time, where’d they’d finally consummated their love. She smiled softly, but though her memories were as bright and bold as if they’d happened yesterday, nothing about the cave looked the same.
Thanks to June’s lies, the cave had been hidden within fairy magic for years. The spell was only just beginning to wear off. Vines and greenery was overtaking everything, driving out the magical illusion of a bottomless sea and a blanket of stars. The glowworms that’d inhabited the place for so long had moved on once the Ten had sealed it in.
She sighed, momentarily saddened by it all when the faint, echoing strain of song pricked her ears. Maybe in another few years this wonderful place would become what it’d once been again.
“Calanthe,” Jericho called her name, and the shivery timbre of his voice never failed to make her stomach bottom out.
“Jericho,” she cried, throwing wide her arms to welcome him home. His hair was longer that it’d been last month, hanging shaggy around his shoulders, but the length didn’t bother her. The man was so gorgeous that he could have shaved his head bald and she’d find him just as mesmerizing.
He had a long, aquiline nose. Wide, full lips that elicited wicked thoughts from her when he touched her with them. In short, the man was a walking sex god.
The curse they’d both been under for centuries had lifted last month. And it always astonished Danika that her beautiful and vibrantly muscular male could love her middle aged and paunchy self. When they’d fallen in love, Danika hadn’t been Danika but Calanthe, a lovely flower fairy whose beauty could have rivaled Helen of Troy’s.
But he swore her new form didn’t bother him and now with him gripping her tight and claiming her lips for his own, she believed him. Warm brown eyes held her spellbound.
“My love, I’ve missed you,” he traced his knuckle down her cheek and made her shiver.
“Och,” she murmured, brogue growing thick with emotion, “you’ve no idea how much I’ve needed you, love.” She sighed, because as much as she wanted to lose herself in his body and his arms, there were grave matters to discuss.
He nodded. “I know, I’ve been keeping an eye out on you.”
“How is Siria?” Danika snorted, the name spilled like venom from her tongue.
Chucking her chin fondly, he waved his fingers through the air, calling his magic of the moon and stars to him and weaved a golden couch for them to sit upon. Though he refused to let Dani out of his arms for even a moment, he sat and yanked her down onto his lap.
She kissed his smooth cheek and gave herself just a minute to enjoy being back together with him. This night would soon end and once again they’d be apart for another month.
His hand rubbed up and down her back very gently, making certain to caress the outer shell of her very sensitive dragonfly wings with each pass. Moon glow filtered through his pores, surrounding them in its silvery lavender webbing.
Jericho was The Man in the Moon. Meaning he commanded the night like no other creature could, his magic was always at its strongest when he came to visit her and he must have known how very much she disliked being in her crone form when he looked so youthful and masculine still.
His glow poured through her flesh and its warmth reshaped her, made her into what she once was. He never made her beautiful for his benefit, Jericho had sworn he loved her any way she came, but she was ashamed to admit her vanity wasn’t overly fond of looking more like his Nana than his vow bonded wife.
Their stones glowed in unison when she kissed him with all her pent up passion and longing.
“Mmm, my love,” his deep burr made her stomach quiver, “I could worship you for an eternity, but my time is much too short.” He tucked a curl of her now glossy umber hair behind her pointed elfin ear.