by M. J. Scott
“You think he was working with someone?”
“I don’t know. That’s the problem. Much like you don’t know how news of your cure is going to be received.”
“It’s not exactly a cure yet, is it?” Simon said. “The Blood are never going to agree for us to go around killing them to free the locked.”
“No, but it’s a starting point. You know the part of the bond is magical at least. That must give you some new ideas.”
“Yes,” Simon admitted.
The sunlight seemed to chill a little. The Blood—those who had wanted what Lucius had wanted, a return to the old ways, would not take news of a cure well. And who knew what ties Lucius’ plot might have into the Beasts and the Fae? Or what other plots there might be? But I couldn’t think of that now. I made myself smile at him, let his answering smile warm me again. “That should keep you busy.”
He nodded, then eased back on his elbows, turning his face to the sun. “And you? What are you going to do with your time?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. Now that I was healed, I needed to do something. I needed money to keep a roof over my head. But apart from fighting, I had few skills to offer.
“Bryony thought you might be good with plants.”
I looked at the abundant life around me, green and welcoming. The urge to reach out and touch and stroke the leaves and flowers tingled through my fingertips. “Maybe. Helping things grow has a certain appeal.”
“Bryony is good at knowing what will suit people.”
“Bryony thinks she’s good at many things,” I said tartly.
Simon laughed. “You should give her a chance. And yes, before you ask, I’ve given her the same speech. I think the two of you would get along well.”
I shook my head at him. “One of these days I’m going to ask Guy whether he really did drop you on your head. Bryony is as likely to befriend a wraith as, well, as I am to sprout wings and learn to fly.” Despite her telling me about my father, I didn’t think she would ever be truly friendly toward me.
“You’re too pessimistic.”
“And you have way too much faith in people.” I laughed suddenly. This had the feeling of an argument we might be having for a very long time.
“Regardless of who came up with the idea, you should think about it,” Simon said. “I’m sure we can come up with funding for any schooling you might wish to undertake. We owe you a debt, after all.”
I looked away, smoothing my hair for a moment while I thought of a suitable response. “I’m not sure I’ve done anyone that much of a service. More likely I’ve just stirred up a wasp’s nest. Given people even more reason to dislike my kind.”
Simon’s brows drew together. “Don’t say that.”
“What?”
“Your kind.”
“It matters, what I am.”
He shook his head, pushing up from the blanket. “No. It doesn’t. Who you are matters, not what you are.”
I tilted my head at him, trying not to hope he might mean what he said. “So it doesn’t matter to you? That I’m a wraith? That my kind are feared?”
He shook his head. “I don’t care. Show them they’re wrong about your kind. I already know all I need to know about you.”
I dropped my eyes, suddenly wanting to cry. The truth about my father hovered on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to tell him that I was human too—at least partly—but something held me back. Something that just wanted to bask in the warmth of his acceptance. I would tell him soon enough. Soon enough but not today.
“All you need to do is let people know you,” Simon said gently.
I raised my eyes, saw his shining blue as he smiled at me.
“You’ve given us a chance to change things,” Simon said, shifting a little closer. Now we both sat cross-legged, facing each other over a foot or so of blanket. Such a small space but it felt like a chasm as deep as the warrens.
“Of course, what we do with the chance is up to us,” Simon continued. “The same applies to the Blood and how they react.”
He took a breath and looked at me. The color of his eyes seemed almost too blue. Full of light. I couldn’t look away.
“Studying would fill your days at least,” he said slowly. His voice had dropped to a low velvet tone.
My stomach fluttered. “That still leaves my nights. . . .”
“I have some ideas about what you can do with those,” Simon said softly. He reached for my hand.
“Such as?” I said, letting him take it. His skin was warm and felt even better than the sunlight on my skin.
“This.” He leaned in and his mouth met mine.
This time it wasn’t a roaring fire that took me at his touch. No, this time it was something richer, truer. Something golden and glowing like the man himself. Like swallowing the warmth that the sun was pouring onto my back and letting it flow through my veins. Happiness. No, something deeper than that.
Love.
“Don’t leave me, Lily,” he said when his mouth left mine. “I love you. Stay here with me.”
I smiled and reached out to touch his face. “It seems I was wrong about something.”
“Oh?” His dimples flashed and the sunlight glinted off his hair, turning it to gold. I wondered if I’d ever tire of looking at him in the light.
“What was that?” he asked.
“I needed a white knight after all.”
His smile was bright enough to chase away any shadows that might still linger in my heart.
“Consider me at your service, my lady.” He leaned in and kissed me hungrily.
I felt the answering hunger rise in me. Not the need. Just simple longing for this man. Full of love and warmth.
We sank back on the blanket, moving slowly. No need to hide anymore. No need for darkness and the cover of night. “I’m in favor of that idea,” I said when we finally came up for a breath. Simon was on top of me, shirt undone, hair rumpled. My shirt was a crumpled thing lying around my shoulders. My skin hummed with pleasure everywhere he and the sunshine touched it.
“So am I,” he said. “And I can think of some services I can offer right now.”
I laughed at him and took his hand. “Show me.”
We lay back down in the light and began all over again.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
M. J. Scott is an unrepentant bookworm. Luckily she grew up in a family that fed her a properly varied diet of books and these days is surrounded by people who are understanding of her story addiction. When not wrestling one of her own stories to the ground, she can generally be found reading someone else’s. Her other distractions include yarn, cat butlering, dark chocolate, and fabric. She lives in Melbourne, Australia. Her Web site is http://www.mjscott.net.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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