Blood And Breath

25

Once my shock registered, it was all-consuming. The heavens could have opened and rained down horses, and I would not have noticed or cared. I had held out hope that my power lay dormant. That the cloying scent of a woman’s desire would lure my power from its dark captivity and once again stir that electric current in my veins. I was such a fool. How long had I lived in the Shadow Lands before I learned that hope was nothing more than self-torture? I knew that lesson better than anyone. Yet somehow, I had made this one exception for myself. I had clung to the hope of my power returning despite the absence of any logical facts to support the notion. I did not leave my room at the inn for days after my discovery. At first, I was mired in self-loathing over my foolishness for having constructed a false reality for myself. An imaginary future I had no right to cling to. But after I grew sick of my own petulance, a new source of resentment took shape. I was furious at myself for the hurt I had caused Cat. She had done nothing to earn my displeasure, yet I had discarded her with ruthless insensitivity. I began to wonder if she would return, and the possibility of her loss brought on an astonishing degree of shame and remorse. How could I possibly have formed an attachment to anyone after being so accustomed to isolation? I had spent weeks with Rebecca and Lochlan, and while I had regretted their departure, I did not feel a fraction of the crippling remorse assaulting me at the thought of losing Cat. I had only spent a handful of days with her. How was it even possible? I had no idea, but the relief I felt when she appeared at my doorstep was undeniable. If only I had known what to do about it. My isolation might not have eviscerated all my emotions, but my ability to socialize and relate to others was rusty at best. I knew I had hurt her and wanted to correct the misunderstanding, yet I could not find the words. I suddenly felt more inept than I had since first struggling to survive in my exile. Though I had not earned her gentle forgiveness, Cat gifted it anyway. She greeted me with a beaming smile that whitewashed over my transgressions, effectively wiping them from existence. We spent a full day together in much the same way as we had before. However, this time, the air around us was charged with an unshakable tension. I was acutely aware of every casual touch—a brush of her shoulder or the barely-there touch of her hand against mine as she gave me the latest book she had brought. Judging from the way her breathing hitched with every contact, she felt it too. Any sort of tryst between us was a catastrophic idea. Cat was not the sort for anything quick and meaningless, and I was a fugitive with nothing to offer her. I had no business near any woman of quality, considering my current station in life. And if that was not problem enough, there was also her age and the fact that I was Fae and she a Druid. The live wire buzzing between us might have presented a temptation, but it would only lead to devastation. I swore I would use what little self-worth I now possessed to keep my distance while still preserving our friendship. The task was not easy. She arrived each week as regular as the tide, and I spent the days in between thinking of nothing but her return—the exquisite torture of having her close yet knowing she could never be mine. Upon her sixth visit, she arrived at my door in a dress the exact shade of her enchanting green eyes. The unexpected visage when I opened the door struck me speechless. I had yet to see her in a dress as she favored more practical attire. The summer frock was simple yet designed perfectly to give a hint of cleavage. It clung to her trim waist before gently flaring from her narrow hips. The soft fabric was cut just above the knee, and her heeled sandals arched her ankles and calves to mimic the delicate lines of a porcelain teacup. She radiated femininity and grace, and I was utterly spellbound. I could hardly remember my own name, let alone the strict boundaries I had set for myself. In a daze, I watched my outstretched fingers thread through her soft curls. Her guileless emerald eyes peered up at me with the untouched purity of a mountain valley too remote for settlement. Thick green grasses and fluttering butterflies and a life-giving creek babbling over rounded gray stones. In her eyes, I could see the promise of happiness and overflowing joy … that was, until a shutter came crashing down, closing her off to me and stealing it all away. What had happened? Why had she suddenly erected a wall between us? “I am sorry,” I murmured. “Did I upset you?” “No, it’s not you.” She eyed the empty hallway, reminding me of my lack of manners. I stepped back and invited her inside, itching to touch her as she ghosted past me. She drifted over to the table and chairs, but instead of sitting in her regular spot, she stood at the large window and stared vacantly outside. “Before I left to drive out here, I had a fight with my mother.” Her voice sounded hollow, and I was instantly alert. Had her mother discovered Cat was helping a Fae man? I hated to think my presence would cause discord between her and her mother. As much as it would pain me, I would rather Cat cease her visits than be the reason the two had a falling-out. She collected her thoughts for some time before she began to explain, eyes still cast unseeing out the window. “Two weeks ago, my mother tried to set me up with a Druid man. Her behavior was odd, and when I pushed for answers, she told me that the elders had decreed that Druids must marry within our own people.” Cat’s voice was toneless, void of emotion and chillingly calm. “I didn’t say anything to you before because I was still trying to process it myself. I’ve been looking for an apartment I can afford on my own and making arrangements to move out of my mother’s house. I refuse to allow someone else to choose who I’ll marry. I’d been able to avoid talking about it with my mother these last two weeks, but this morning…” Her breath caught. “This morning, I told her I wouldn’t comply with the elders, and we fought,” she choked out. “We said the most terrible things.” Her words faded to shuttering sobs. I quickly encircled her shaking frame, pulling her close against me, my body curving protectively around hers. When she melted into me, seeking comfort in my presence and trusting me with her burden, I felt a single word resound deep down in my soul. Mine. I hated to see her in pain and felt an inexplicable responsibility to protect her from any and all threats. My need to shield her was so great that I could vanquish an army if it meant restoring the light in her eyes.