A new sort of madness fills me when my eyes meet his. I find myself propelled, needing to feel something else in my skin. Needing to feel anything but this darkness, this confusion.
He grips the edge of the pool as I come up to him, but he doesn’t move away.
So I reach out. I touch him, the water from my fingers dripping down his bare chest.
I can’t say out loud what I’m thinking, that I need him to touch me back, that I want him to kiss me again like he did that night by the fountain. This storm inside won’t let me speak. But it’s like he hears me, anyway. He moves to take hold of me, to pull me closer into a hug. His arms wrap around me, his hand gripping the back of my neck, his chin resting on the top of my head.
I press myself against his chest, feeling his warmth. I plead with this thing in me not to hurt him or take from him. Because I need this. I need to feel him.
After several heartbeats, he pulls back a little, tipping my chin so our eyes meet. His thumb slides back and forth over my jaw, his brow pinching like he’s in pain.
“Am I hurting you?” I whisper.
He shakes his head slowly, his hair falling in his eyes.
I reach out and brush at a dark strand, then trail my fingers to his jaw, his neck, and down across his clavicle, his skin soft against mine. I let myself look at him, soaking in his beauty. Wondering about the scar above his eye. Studying the perfect shape of his mouth. Then I rise up on my toes.
And touch my lips to his.
He breathes me in. His arms wrap tighter around me, strong and unyielding. I twist my fingers in his hair, falling into him until he’s leaning against the edge of the pool. Everything in me tingles and buzzes with his body so close, his hands sliding down my bare back, gripping my hips, pulling me closer. And the storm of confusion inside me calms, a new whirl of emotion rising as he presses into me, his breath becoming mine. I cling to him and kiss him and taste him, blocking out the whole world for as long as I can, getting lost in the urgency, in the frantic touch.
Memories mingle, twisting in my mind, the water growing cold, Faelan becoming the king, me becoming Lily, and then shifting back again. I’m surrounded by water, clutching at Faelan’s damp body, but then I’m surrounded by cold stone, wrapped in the king’s arms.
I’m desperate and hungry, and I don’t want to pull away anymore. I don’t want to lose him. I can’t lose him.
I’m so lost that the warmth growing in my skin doesn’t register. Even as the familiar smell of Faelan’s green energy fills my head, and the taste of mint trickles into my throat.
The buzz of it all trails around me, through me, the heat blossoming in my chest.
And I realize where I am, and that I’m feeding from him. The one Sage cares about. Faelan.
Panic falls over me in a rush.
I pull away, breathless. “Stop,” I hiss at myself.
I watch as steam rises from his arms, his face. A rush of relief fills me when I don’t see any burns.
“I think I was feeding,” I say, feeling ill.
He shakes his head. “I’m all right. The torque held most of it back.”
I move to the steps and slowly sit, cold fear creeping through me. “I hate this.” What’s happening to me? I was completely lost. I’m going crazy.
“It’s okay, Sage.” He sinks down to sit beside me.
I shake my head. No. No, it’s not.
FORTY-THREE
FAELAN
I can’t believe that I let it happen again. I kissed her, I touched her, I let myself want her more than I’ve wanted anything. And it’s no longer under my control. If it wasn’t for the torque, I probably would’ve let her consume me as she fed. That’s how far I’ve let myself fall.
Something changed when I saw Niamh’s mutilated body. Something twisted in my gut, shifting reality for a moment. And it was Sage I saw, broken and bloodied. But unlike the last time I thought we’d lost her, this time I was only thinking about myself instead of my master. I was thinking how I wouldn’t get to hold her again. How that smile in her eyes would flash out.
And I knew I’d be lost if that happened. It’s more than the protector bond now, more than duty. Somewhere in all the madness my heart’s become hers.
“Niamh’s dead because of me,” she says, breaking into my stunned thoughts. Torment fills her words.
“You can’t blame yourself for this, Sage.”
“But—”
“No.” I take hold of her arm and gently turn her to face me. “You are not responsible. You won’t go down that road, do you hear me?”
She nods, tears filling her eyes.
“Whoever did this, we’ll make sure they feel it,” I say, knowing she needs to believe justice is possible, even if it’s not. “The bastard will go down, Sage.”
Something crackles on the other side of the pool, and a loud pop fills the air. Water sprays from the fountain in a sudden burst, and Marius emerges. He walks quickly toward us on the surface of the water.
“What’s happened?” he asks. “Where’s Aelia? She called me and said Niamh was poisoned.”
I rise and step out of the pool. “In Sage’s cottage.”
He’s heading in before I can catch up. Sage stays behind, probably not wanting to see Niamh again. James took off when I wasn’t looking, thankfully; as a shade, he wouldn’t want to stick around for the master’s arrival. Aelia is in Sage’s cottage alone, sitting on the couch, looking down at her friend’s body.
“In my own house,” Marius growls, staring at the mess.
I pick up the black velvet bag and hold it out to him. “It’s a ring. Appears to be from the House of Morrígan as a tribute to Sage.”
He takes it from me, then steps closer to Niamh’s body, crouching to see her wounds. “Kieran’s been missing for several days, which is concerning. And I can see him wanting Sage pliable before the Emergence. But why did he wait so long? He had several chances to use his trickery on her, and he barely scratched the surface.”
“It really could be anyone,” I say, thinking of my brother Finbar. This smells like something he’d do. And he hasn’t had much access to Sage, which would make him desperate.
“The only thing to do is investigate the poisoned ring. Magic might reveal who created it, or at the very least where it was made. That would point us in a direction.”
“I’ll do it,” Aelia says, surprising me.
Marius stands again and looks at his daughter. “It’s too much for you, little Lia.”
Aelia sniffs and wipes her cheeks. “I’m not a baby anymore, Daddy. I can do this. She was my friend. Pixie or not, I loved the stupid girl.”
Marius nods and takes her hand, urging her to stand. Then he says gently, “Tell me what you need.”
I leave them to their father-daughter moment and go to get dressed, preparing my head for the hunt.