Born Of Nothing

22

“Should you ever have the misfortune of seeing the Shadow Lands, you would never again doubt the beauty of this world,” he responded wistfully as his eyes roamed the vegetation around us. “Becca told me a little about it—that the leaves on the trees all look withered and dead but never fall to the ground. She said the landscape exists entirely in shades of tan and brown, and there is no wind or sounds or sun, just perpetual twilight and darkness. I can’t imagine living there, alone no less, for as long as you did.” “What seems strange to me now is how thoroughly I had adapted. I would have thought returning to Earth would have been second nature, despite my long years away. However, when Rebecca first brought me here, it took days for my head to stop aching from the constant sounds around me. Even now, I spend more time than I would like in my room to escape from the relentless activity I encounter when I go out.” “That makes sense, it’s only been a couple of weeks compared to centuries of time you spent there. Eventually, you’ll find your new normal; it just may take a while.” I gave him a soft smile as our eyes met briefly. The simmering heat in those dark eyes of his sent a swirling warmth through my insides before I returned my gaze to the still waterway. The length of the canal was not particularly long, and we walked the remainder quietly with only an occasional comment on the scenery. When we reached the end of the pavement, we both leaned against the wood fence and looked out at the River Foyle in the distance. Fen cleared his throat somewhat hesitantly, an uncharacteristic gesture from the normally self-assured Fae man. “Cat, do you think it would be possible for you to teach me your rune magic?” I looked over in surprise, but Fen kept his gaze locked on the view before him. “Why would you want me to do that? Surely your magic far exceeds anything I could teach you.” He gave a fleeting glance my direction and my stomach clenched with unease. “Rebecca did not tell you?” “Tell me what?” “I assume you are aware that the Seelie use s****l energy to replenish their magic? Well, without the opportunity to charge my magic, it faded away within the first year of my exile.” His voice was matter-of-fact, but the loss must have been profound. A leaden weight pressed against my chest as I took a small step back from the fence. As if the death of his wife and a lifetime in exile hadn’t been enough, Fenodree had been forced to suffer the loss of his magic. How had I not connected the dots on my own? Had I been so caught up in my own fancies that I hadn’t noticed this Fae man had not once used magic around me? I couldn’t imagine how hard those first years must have been. And yet, he didn’t seem resentful or outwardly bitter about what he’d suffered. The man was incredible. “Of course, I’ll teach you,” I said in a hushed tone. He glanced back to where I stood, and as our gazes locked for a long moment, I could have sworn we reached some kind of unspoken understanding. He was no longer Fae, and I was no longer druid. We were simply two people getting to know one another. My lips spread into a wide grin, and my heart grew so full it might have burst. “Let’s start now!” I exclaimed as I pulled a water bottle from my satchel and looked around for a flat surface. “We can use these fence boards, they’re worn decently smooth.” I opened the cap on the plastic bottle and poured some water into the palm of my left hand. With my right, I handed the bottle to Fen and then dipped my finger in the water like a quill in ink. “The first rune every young druid learns is the truth rune for Sight. Each rune has formal names and origins, but you don’t need to know that stuff to be able to use them.” After a couple of dips back into the water, the symbol stood out on the light grey wood. It was shaped like a letter ‘C’, except with straight lines and some zig-zags in the corners. Fen stared at the symbol for a moment, then took a small step back and slowly lifted the hair off the back of my neck. My breath stuttered and then froze as his warm finger trace the lines of the tattoo on my neck. “Are all the runes drawn onto your flesh?” His voice had gone guttural, its vibrating tenor resounding in the most delicious part of my belly. I twisted to look back at him and he slowly released my hair. “No, some runes can be used that way, but that is the only one I have.” My own voice had become shaky, and my head felt weightless as I turned back around. It was my turn to clear my throat as I continued on with the lesson. “Next is the symbol for protection. This one can be used on a talisman that you wear or carved into the doorway at your home. Not at the hotel, though. I doubt the management would appreciate you decorating their door.” With a coy smirk, he dipped his finger into the water and outlined the symbol I had drawn. After that, I displayed the runes for strength and stealth, which he dutifully practiced and set to memory. I went to refill my hand with water and accidentally tipped the bottle more than was needed, splashing myself with the contents. I yipped and jerked back, as if I could escape my own hands, and Fen barked out a laugh. I gaped up at him in exaggerated shock. “You thought that was funny, did you?” I raised a brow and pursed my lips together teasingly before sloshing the water bottle in his direction and sending a spray of water across his chest. I was to a point where I was infinitely more comfortable around Fen, but we hadn’t known each other all that long. For a split second, time came to a stop, and I questioned if I had overstepped my bounds. That was, until he tucked his chin with a devious grin and sprang in my direction. I dropped the bottle and bolted with a shriek. “It was an accident! A hand spasm!” I hollered behind me as I tore back down the path. “Cat, why don’t I believe you?” Right on my tail, Fen grabbed for my hand and whipped me around such that I was flung against his chest, my arms held snuggly at my back. With heavy breaths, our gazes collided and the world around us melted away. His heated stare dropped down to my parted lips as I released a breathy exhale, and my body arched up toward him of its own accord. He lowered himself like a predator closing in on skittish prey. Our lips met hesitantly for a taste that I’d been craving for weeks. I reached up farther and trailed my tongue along his full bottom lip and received a groan of approval in response. He gave the hint of a tug on my bound arms as if to remind me who was in control, and I relaxed into his chest. As a reward, his tongue surged into my mouth, and a moan slipped from me at the pressure coiling in my belly