by Lisa Kumar
"What’s that supposed to mean?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.
"I don’t particularly want to marry a child."
Ire roared fully to the surface. "I’m not one."
"Then stop acting like it."
She glared but didn’t say anything in response.
After a few moments, he spoke. "While I can’t go into detail right now of why I desire to unite with you in marriage, you do need to know a few pertinent details."
Against her will, her interest perked up. "Fine."
"If we marry, while I live, you live. But if I die…."
She saw where this was going. "I will also."
"Yes, your life will always hinge on mine." A slightly apologetic note had entered his tone.
Even though it wouldn’t matter in the long run, since she didn’t intend to stay, she didn’t know if she liked that. Still, her mind couldn’t seem to let the "what ifs" go. "I see. Say if I stay here, which is a big if, and you die before my usual mortal lifespan has ended. What would happen then?"
The words tumbling out of her mouth startled her. Was she seriously considering it? No, she wasn’t. Returning home far outweighed any attraction to Lorh.
"You’d live out your life as you would have previously. If I die when you have seen eighty human years, you would age to reflect all of those eighty years."
She blanched at the horrible images going through her brain. "You mean I would age overnight?"
"No. Within a few years. The residual effects of being bonded to me would stave off instantaneous aging."
"Oh, that’s good. But what would happen if we changed that number to three hundred instead?" she asked hesitantly. A vivid image of her crumbling to dust flickered before her eyes. She shuddered. The idea of turning into a corpse over the course of a few seconds was a horrifying one.
"Death in that case is fairly instantaneous. Usually within a few days, so undue aging doesn’t have much of a chance to occur."
Natalie clutched her hands to her chest as a wave of relief flooded through her. That didn’t sound so nightmarish and was something she could live with. Her mind screeched to a stop. What? No. She wouldn’t allow herself to seriously contemplate it.
Though, try as she might to stifle her curiosity, she couldn’t. She wanted to examine what he was telling her and learn about it from all sides. But that was a dangerous proposition, because inquisitiveness could be a slippery slope, one she may not be able to climb out of if she fell.
Then another troubling thought popped up, and curse her mouth, but she couldn’t stop herself. "The person you were engaged to…" She trailed off.
A thundercloud formed on his face. Though he calmly lowered his hands to the desk, his white-knuckled fingers also hinted at his distress. "Who told you of her?"
Her mind blanked. What should she say? She didn’t want to get Aaron in trouble. After opening her mouth, she closed it again since she came up with nothing.
Lorh figured it out for himself, though. "Aeron." Glowering, he got up and paced the perimeter of the room. He resembled a tiger prowling a cage.
She gulped. "He really didn’t say much. I think it slipped out."
"Yes, he often speaks before his brain has time to catch up."
"Er, a trait of his teenage years? He’s still young, after all." She didn’t know why she was defending him, but she just knew she couldn’t leave him to Lorh’s wrath.
He gave a bark of laughter, stopping in front of her. "That’s another thing you need to know. Aeron might be a teenager in fae years, but in human ones, he’s older than you are."
She started. "Really?"
Lorh nodded solemnly, though a glint of amusement had entered his eyes. "Even Sirina is older than you."
Though she knew that the fae were very long-lived, she couldn’t wrap her mind around this. "Wh-what? Say that again?"
Stupefied was the only word that fit her. But as she watched his face, she saw no hint of a lie.
He leaned against the desk, only a scant foot away from her. To her alarm, the disbelief she was experiencing faded away in the face of his magnetic presence. She forgot how to breathe. The urge to reach out and see if his arms were as strong as she remembered nearly overtook her. She pressed her feet harder against the floor in an effort to curtail any foolish movement on her part.
Still, the treacherous thoughts continued. What would he do if she trailed her finger down the sleeve of his tunic? Or if she reached up and — no, that’d be sheer madness. What was wrong with her?
She didn’t know, but it had to stop. Shaking her head to clear it of the disturbing thoughts, she forced herself to speak. "I’m sure I didn’t hear you right. Sirina can’t be older."
"You didn’t misunderstand."
"But she’s a toddler."
He inclined his head in agreement. "Yes, but a toddler of fae years, not human."
"So how old is she?"
"Roughly thirty human years."
No wonder he’d been amused. She was a baby compared to a baby. "I’m twenty-five, and a toddler is older than me. What happened to her parents, your parents?"
His face grew soft, as did his voice, and he appeared to watch her closely. "Mother left soon after Sirina’s birth, as did Father."
"So they both deserted you?" She winced at her tactless question. "I’m sorry. I should’ve phrased that better."
He waved away her apology. "It was better they go."
"Leaving behind no parents for their children?"
"I am their father in every way that counts," he said, pride straightening his posture. "They’ve never been…affectionate people and are much more interested in playing politics than living in the countryside with their family."
Wow, some people. In her job she’d seen too many instances like this one, and it appeared, as a race, that the fae were no different. "It must have been hard for you to step into that role after having been a brother for so long."
He gave an ironic smile. "Not as hard as you might believe. I have always watched over them."
A warm sensation settled about her heart. "Overprotective elder brother, huh?"
"Something like that."
Though she wanted to ask more, she could tell by the look upon his face the subject was now closed. Since his previous fiancée seemed like a sensitive topic, she’d have to settle for finding out whatever she could of his current family. For now.
She stayed silent to let him guide the conversation, but he apparently wasn’t in a sharing mood anymore.
"Well, I think I’ve shocked you enough for today." He shoved away from the desk and held out a hand.
Her gaze darted from his face to his hand and back again. He held himself with such ease, with a familiarity that beguiled. She’d never deemed herself a touchy-feely person, but for him, she wanted to reconsider.
Taking a deep breath, she placed her hand in his, and a jolt of electricity danced along her arm. When his fingers curled around hers, she almost sighed in bliss.
Bliss? Natalie had to fight the impulse to yank her hand away. He shouldn’t be arousing anything in her, let alone bliss. She couldn’t allow him to. Every time he did, home seemed to float that much farther from her grasp.
Her fingers flexed, but she didn’t pull away. She wanted to know why she was here, so going along with whatever he had planned would be best. Her insatiable curiosity wouldn’t let her do anything else.
5
Natalie didn’t know if she’d ever get used to the plant life. The garden she and Lorh found themselves in was similar to the one from yesterday in that the plants seemed to have a life all their own.
After stealing a glance at the male walking by her side, she sighed inwardly. Could she ever get used to him? Probably not. But that wasn’t quite true. Lorh felt familiar, even in the way he made her body hum.
His hand tightened around hers. The intimacy of such a simple act staggered her. How would his kiss feel, then? No, nope. Not going there.
&nb
sp; She cast around until her mind landed on a hopefully safer topic. Where was he taking her? Lorh had said he wanted it to be a surprise. As long as he kept his hand where it was, she’d be able to walk indefinitely.
Smothering a groan, she wanted to hit her head against something — anything — that would take these blasted thoughts away.
They soon left the garden proper, which gave way to orchards and gently rolling hills, though the stone path remained under their feet. She gazed up at the sky as a few clouds worked their way across the azure canvas.
The silence stretched out until it scratched at her nerves. "I have to admit the walk has invigorated me."
He grinned without a hint of smugness. "I had the notion it would."
That was the thing — he seemed to know what would please her and what wouldn’t. In the three days she’d been there, she’d seen that come into play too many times to discount it as pure happenstance. Yet what else could it be?
They were almost to a bend in the path when an eerie sense of déjà vu played out before her like a moving picture. All thoughts narrowed down to a pinprick of awareness. She knew what was around that corner, but how she could be so sure, she couldn’t say. A stream and a grassy knoll. A frolicking male and female — one elf, one human — chased each other along the water’s edge. The heady giddiness of their actions tore into her heart with a bittersweetness that left her gasping. The couple seemed familiar, but their indistinct faces offered no clue to their identity.
Then, as suddenly as it’d come, the vision faded, leaving behind a discontentment and loss that made her stumble. Lorh's arms, steady and comforting, closed around her. With a sob, she sunk against him. Fear at what she’d just experienced overawed her enough that she couldn’t do anything else.
Thankfully, he didn’t ask any questions. She wasn’t sure if she could explain something she, herself, didn’t understand. A certain disquiet formed in a corner of her mind, though. Why wasn’t he curious about what’d affected her so strongly? Unless he already — no, she wouldn’t even contemplate such a foolish thought.
Her erratic breath fanned out against his broad chest, warming the suddenly chilled skin of her face. He ran gentle hands over her back and murmured soothing words in a lilting language that sounded impossibly beautiful. Just like the man saying them.
As her breathing and pulse settled, she became aware of the hard lines of his body against her softer ones. He felt heavenly, safe, passionate, as if she’d finally come home.
Natalie inhaled his scent — that of a spicy soap and pine — and pressed her cheek into the soft material of his tunic. She was falling. Deep. Fast. And right now, she was powerless to even care about that fact.
He gave a soft laugh, as if privy to and happy about that. His hands ghosted up her sides and cupped her face. The trailing caress left a fiery wake of pleasure over her skin. A gasp wrung itself from her. “Magic hands,” that was what he had. She somehow knew he wasn’t using any fae tricks on her. This was all real, all emotion.
As he traced the line of her bottom lip with a long finger, she leaned into the touch. And when he captured her lips with his, she gladly met him.
His hands slid into her hair, anchoring her head more securely so he could deepen their kiss. Their tongues danced around each other in a sensual dual.
In perfect harmony, her heart pounded in rhythm to his, the fast, sure beats resonating through her body.
"Oh, my love," he groaned against her mouth.
His words cut into her like a knife, and she froze, lips going slack under his. A sense of reality returned that had ceased to exist in the moments before. Panic clawed. What was she doing? She couldn’t love him, and he couldn’t love her. Not in a mere three days. Not when she was going home.
She had to stop. It had to stop, but still she couldn’t push Lorh away. Flesh and mind warred, with body trouncing reason. Fortunately, he didn’t press his advantage and lifted his mouth from hers.
Staring at her with a regretful look, Lorh held her for a few seconds. His hands slid down to her back, where they rested for a short period. Then wordlessly, he dropped his arms from around her and took up her hand.
Tension humming between them, he led her down the path. Though he was breathing a little more rapidly than normal, he gave no other hint of it and gazed straight ahead.
As they neared the bend, she heard the telltale trickle of water over rocks. She bit her lip, that sense of reliving a moment in time revisiting her. Maybe it was a coincidence, but the gaping pit in her stomach screamed otherwise.
As they rounded the bend, she halted, yanking her hand out of Lorh’s. All she could do was stare at the sight before her. A clear violet-colored stream, along with a grassy knoll, spread across the landscape. Stunned disbelief spread like poison through her veins — and it wasn’t the color of the water that caused it.
"But…I…this can’t be right." Her voice sounded so far away through the roaring in her ears. She blinked, opened and closed her eyes, but the scene still remained.
"It is right. What you see before you is truth."
She shot him a mystified look. How could he possibly know what she was talking about? If she took his words at face value, how would stating the obvious help her? The other alternative was too outlandish, though. How could he possibly sense her thoughts, her feelings?
So was it something else — a knowledge he held and she didn’t? That didn’t make any sense, either.
As she turned his words around and around in her mind, dread enveloped her. What he’d said had to carry some deeper significance, a clue as to why she was here. The surety of that burrowed deep into her bones.
She turned to him in accusation and gestured to the stream. "I saw all this before we even rounded the bend. How? You know, don’t you?"
Shadowed discomfort flickered across his face. As quickly as it came, it disappeared, and he said with infuriating calmness, "When you’re ready, you will find that you know the answer."
"Ready? Ready for what?" she demanded, aggravation dripping from her voice.
"That I cannot say."
She clinched her fists. "What can you say, then?"
"I can only guide you along the way. I cannot tell you what you seek."
"How can I know something when I don’t know it?"
Maintaining a serene expression on his face, he clasped his hands behind his back. "You’ll know it soon enough, along with the answers to the other questions you’ve asked. That’s the important thing to remember."
Rage rumbled through her. Really, that was all he was going to say to her? "In less than three weeks, I’m going to just suddenly know the answer to this question, along with the others burning a hole in my mind?"
The corners of his mouth pulled downward, and his eyes turned into flat, purple pools as their light dimmed. A petty satisfaction crowed within her. So he showed signs of strain and emotion. Not as confident as he pretended, it seemed.
"We’ll worry about that when the time comes," he said icily.
While his clipped tone was likely meant to discourage further discussion, it only caused a murky veil of anger to descend across her eyes. "In three blasted weeks, we’ll worry about it? I say we start to worry about it now. Three weeks are nothing."
"I cannot tell you more. You’ll remem —" He broke off, giving a flinch he couldn’t quite hide. "It’ll all come to you."
She closed the distance between them and poked a shaking finger at his chest. "You slipped! I’ll remember? Hmm, what does that mean besides the obvious?"
His left eye twitched, but he didn’t speak.
"What? Afraid if you talk, I might actually learn something?" Taunting him probably wasn’t the wisest course, but she had no other weapon at her disposal. Besides, at the moment, she really didn’t care if his eyes threatened to jerk right out of their sockets. "No cryptic answers or clues for me? Oh, shoot. I wanted to be more confused than I already am."
His face was drawn with
harsh lines. "I cannot tell you more. Those were the terms."
Natalie snapped onto that like a bear tearing into a fish. "Terms? And whose terms would those be?" She shook her head. "Oh, I know you won’t enlighten me. But you’ve told me a lot, anyway. Thanks."
She spun on her heel to leave, but he grabbed her arm.
"Not so fast," he grated. "I won’t be dismissed in this manner."
"Be happy that I don’t sock you."
He glared down his nose at her. "I’d like to see you try. Violence doesn’t suit you, my dear."
"You never know. I might try it on for size just for you and like it."
Suddenly, he threw his head back and laughed. "Your threats are as puny as you are."
She growled as ire pounded through her. "You better watch it."
A grin curved his lips. "Hit me."
"What?"
"Hit me."
Though she’d wanted to pound him into the ground a minute ago, when faced with the prospect of doing so now, she found she couldn’t. Violence just wasn’t her thing, no matter how angry she was.
"Come on. I dare you to."
She crossed her arms. "I don’t want to."
"But I thought you wanted to earlier."
"Not anymore." She glowered at him. Why was he insisting?
"Do it," he said with a taunting grin.
"Fine." She balled up her fist and aimed at his shoulder half-heartedly, partially because she really didn’t want to do it and also because she knew she’d probably hurt herself more than she’d ever hurt him.
As her fist flew toward him, though, an invisible force stilled and then forced her hand away. She gasped and stumbled back a step. "What…what was that?"
"My magic. I put up a charm to ward against any quick movements from you. Unless I let you, you won’t be able to strike me."
She gaped at him. Though he’d mentioned spells before, to actually see it in action was astonishing.
"Gargoyle got your tongue?"
Gargol — no, she wasn’t even going there. The knowledge of their existence might just push her over the threshold into insanity. Her hand fell back to her side. She suddenly felt tired, drained. There was no energy left for anger anymore. "Well, that’s a handy trick."