Alexia hugged herself. “Forgive me, Ethel?”
The woman held up her latest project. A dress. The cut was elegant, beautiful little white flowers twirling down the front of the skirt and across the lining of the bodice. “What do you think? It’s nothing special—only what I could pull together in the time I have to myself, but I think it will look quite charming on you.”
Alexia gasped.
“Does that mean you like it?” The seamstress held her creation against the girl’s shoulders. “Mmm, might need to take the hem up an inch.”
“Ethel . . .”
“We shall have to see it on you first.”
“Ethel . . .” Surely she could not accept a gift so fine!
The woman waved dismissively. “You have been doing more than your share around here and wearing thin that awful scrap of a gown.”
Alexia bowed her head. So as payment, her benefactress had drudged up a dress in which to send her home. “Thank you.”
Ethel helped her into the gown. It fit perfectly. Alexia threw her arms around the woman. Tears burst forth and she could not stop them.
***
Alexia didn’t sleep that night. Edward had said nothing, but she knew what was coming. There would be a knock at the door, and then someone would escort her away, into a carriage and back to Father’s estate. She wasted the day about the cottage alone, chopping wood, gathering berries, grinding flour, sweeping, brushing her hair, straightening furniture, and kicking at the trees.
She’d just begun to clear dinner when Edward and Ethel appeared to ascertain she was decent.
The peal of hooves echoed loudly up the road. She blinked back the tears and pushed her emotions into the pit of her stomach. Tonight she would be every inch the noblewoman she’d been raised, and no matter her fate, she would face it bravely.
The thump of someone landing on the ground sent her heart thundering. Of course, she could always run.
Mister Hampton threw the door open, bowing to admit a gruff fellow with heavy white whiskers and youthful dark eyes.
She fell back a step.
He halted next to the door, scratched his stubbled chin, and began to laugh. “Hello there, Sparrow. I remember you.”
A cloaked fellow followed him in, stopping halfway through the door.
“Lester, or have you forgot?” The first arrival offered a hand.
Alexia froze.
“My dear! Come in, warm yourself!” Ethel hurried forward, closing the exit and aiding the second man with his cape.
Incredible blue eyes met hers.
75
Rightful
Overgrown ginger hair waved about his face, chin turned questioningly up, shoulders, once proud, lifting again. He stepped closer, eyes swallowing her into a starry night sky.
She breathed in honeyed oak, lost in the expanse of his consuming universe. His fingers cupped her cheek, and the lights flared brighter, colors deepening. Her blood pumped. The soft crackle of flames hummed a song, carrying his heartbeat to her ears, a wild ballad that begged her to fall into his arms where life thrived, where she belonged. Her knees quaked, her entire body shaking.
The door smacked shut and she glanced about the now-abandoned room.
He pulled her to him, their bodies fusing into a single entity. Their hearts thundered in unison, every cell burning with awareness. She’d been living in the night. The sun had risen at last, illuminating a world she’d forced herself to believe no longer existed, and its glory threatened to consume her entirely.
His nose pressed into her neck and a shudder shook them both. She cradled his head, looping her fingers in his hair. Tremors wracked his frame as his warm tears dripped onto her shoulder. He crumbled to his knees, clinging to her around the waist. She trailed a hand across his scar and turned his face up toward hers.
He swallowed, but did nothing to remove the streams coursing from his perfect oceanic eyes. “Alexia.” He reached for her face. “Oh, Alexia!”
She dropped into his grasp. The whisper of his skin across hers shot bolts of lightning to her core. She gasped and tasted urgency. His lips grazed her temple, skimmed her cheek, and brushed the tip of her nose. Each touch sent a quiver of wishful longing down her spine. His breath across her mouth proved too much. She lurched into him, kissing him with every ounce of passion her heart contained. He met her fervor, hands pulling through her hair, drawing her nearer, stealing her away to that haunted silence that had become his heart.
The place between opened up. She caught glimpses of him on a lonely journey, fleeing the Soulless, searching desperately, unrelenting and determined to pick up her trail.
She pushed him away. “You thought I was—”
“I did not know what to believe.” He caught her hands, squeezing them, eyes piercing hers. “I searched everywhere, knowing as long as my heart testified yours still beat, it had to be true. Even if you did not want me, even if,” he sucked in a breath, “even if you could never forgive me, I had to find you. All this time, and here you were in my own home!”
She choked, her voice barely audible. “Arik—”
His eyes closed with a lack of patience. “Stop, please. My name is not Arik.”
“No?”
“It is Kiren.”
“Kie-ren?” she tried.
He beamed. She could not help her own smile beneath the luster of his aquatic dawn, the first true sunrise she had seen in ages, the rise of hope.
“Kiren,” she tried again, this time coming easier. He glowed. She shook her head, trying to process what else he’d confessed. “This is your home?”
He smiled apologetically and stroked her cheek. “One of them.”
“I do not understand.”
He nodded, his brow coming to rest against hers. “My true home is here.” His fingers pressed lightly just above her sternum. She flushed. “And here.” His lips reached for hers. She let him have them, bewildered by the need that pulsed through her every vein. The taint of saltwater stained his kiss, reminding her of the bitterness lodged deep inside. She wasn’t supposed to let him back in, not ever. He stole the truth. He took away everything they’d once had, and then threatened to do it again.
She pulled free, covering her mouth. Tears pooled. Would he take what he needed from her—all the affection and assurances, and then wipe her mind clean once more?
“Never.” He seized her wrist and removed her hand, leaning in again, fixed on her lips.
“What about my memories?”
He halted.
“No one ever took them from me.” She tilted her head. “Why?”
He wrapped a finger in one of her curls, watching the spiral as it striped his skin. His brow wrinkled. “I did not want you to forget.” His eyes met hers, wide and child-like. “I never wanted you to forget.”
She exhaled a shaky breath, broken by his sincerity. “But you took them before.”
He nodded. “When your father asked it of me.”
It all clicked. Father didn’t want her to end up like one of them. Of course he would ask that she forget everything to do with the Passionate, especially the man she wasn’t sure her heart could survive without.
She swallowed. “He told me about the Soulless priest. Was that the only memory you took?”
His head bowed. “No.”
“You will restore what was taken?”
He bit the inner sides of his lips and nodded.
She managed a weak smile. “Then I shall remember you, even after we are parted?”
His hands laced into her curls. “My prayer is that I never leave your side again.”
“Never?”
“Never.” His head shook.
“I may not mind my privacy on rare occasion.”
He laughed, eyeing her mouth. “Do you know I have been with you your entire life?”
“Except when you left me at Sarah’s, with John, so you could fight a war.”
He groaned. “There will always be war. I should not have l
eft you.” His brows lowered. “When that unscrupulous banker attacked you . . .” He shuddered, teeth clenching. “I could have killed him.”
She blinked a few tears free.
He brushed the hair away from her face and drew her near, swallowing her whole in his star-littered sea. “I would have given anything to hold you!”
A sob caught in her throat. “But you did not.”
“Because you forbade it.”
“I am not forbidding it now.”
He looped both arms around her, drawing her into his chest and hugging her close. Her heart warmed. He placed a kiss on top of her curls. “I have traversed every inch of this blasted continent searching for you. Not even Edward could reach me with his frequent missives—not until this morning.” He lifted her chin. “I must know, were you running from me?”
“Me, running from you?” She scowled. “You left me!” Her tears resurfaced, blurring his troubled face.
His eyes closed. He brushed her cheek and laid his lips to hers. They weren’t desperate like before. They felt instead, penitent. She welcomed them wholly.
“I will not leave you again. Though it may be the most selfish thing I have ever done, I love you, Alexia Dumont.”
She blinked up into his eyes, heart thundering her response. “I love you,” she couldn’t help the smile, “Kiren.”
He grinned with her.
She gasped. “But what about the dream, how you have seen me die, how you fear my death will bring about yours?”
“It is a price I will gladly pay.”
“You would sacrifice your life for love?”
He brushed her knuckles against his cheek, his eyes drowning her in their azure depths. “With all my heart.” He leaned in. “I will not live without you, Alexia.”
“You should know I have adopted the alias of Christianne.” She smirked. “And I am quite fond of it.”
“Whatever you like.” He laughed and kissed her.
76
Dispel
As they stepped through the doorway, Alexia reddened. Three sets of eyes turned quickly away—her dear friends who had politely slipped outside at their display.
Kiren aided her onto his horse, his speckled gray, and mounted behind her, returning his arms to their rightful place.
Lester and Edward battled back and forth about some trivial household detail while Ethel pledged to join the couple at the manor soon. Kiren’s grip tightened about her and he kicked the horse, and off they flew, through the deepening night, and though the air snapped with chill, Alexia felt none of it. The warmth of his touch, the consistent thump of their unified hearts—those were the only things she comprehended. She wanted to ask a hundred things, to know the mysteries behind this estate—how he’d come to be here, why he served Edward—but she held her tongue and turned, studying his beautiful face for fear it would escape her again.
Two lamps out front warmed the house, tiny lights glittering in the lower windows. Drooping dark branches protected them from the distant world, navy sky almost totally obscured.
The stallion halted. Kiren leapt down and she fell into his grasp. His eyes touched hers curiously, asking what she thought of the house—probably not realizing she’d seen it a hundred times before. It felt more like home every day. Her silent response must have pleased him, for his smile widened.
Nelly welcomed them back as she kicked Miles out the door to attend to the horse. Even her loud mood and bewildered stares couldn’t disturb their calm.
Kiren guided her from the entry to the library, where he sat in the corner of the wide leather couch and pulled her down beside him, mouth persistently engaging hers. The others could be heard scuttling by, but they didn’t disturb the couple.
At last he held her. Alexia took a deep breath, head resting against his chest. When she returned to his face, a crinkle broke his brow. His eyes met hers. He closed them.
“What is it?” she whispered.
His lips pursed together before he voiced in his all too controlled baritone, “How soon must we return you to your father’s house?”
“Never.”
He squeezed her. “But Alexia, if you stay—”
She took both sides of his face. “I am right where I belong. You cannot send me away, and I will not let you go.”
He laughed. “Alexia—”
“I do not think you heard correctly.” She tucked her knees beneath herself. “I have become Christianne, a woman with no impending duties or family, an orphan.”
He smiled sadly. “You are giving them up?”
“It is done.” She glanced the other direction to keep him from seeing the forming tears. “Father cannot tolerate what I am. He will never understand.”
“That is not true.” He caught her chin.
“But it is.” One tear broke free and skimmed down her cheek. “Why else would he be so anxious to marry me off—shuffle me into society? Why else would he hate you?”
Kiren stilled. His attention turned to the floor.
“He says tragedy follows you.” She swallowed. “He believes all our kind are doomed to sorrow, and that we bring it upon those with whom we associate.”
His eyes leapt to hers. “You talked with him about me?”
“Well, yes.”
“Did he learn about our—”
She nodded.
He looked away, groaning. When he resumed speaking it was hardly more than a whisper. “Do you want to know why he hates me?”
She nodded, eagerly.
“I asked her not to leave us for Charles. Dana did not listen.” He shook his head. “When she died, she begged me to watch over you. I honored her wishes, but it was best that you be raised by your father, not us. Not me.” He paused, individually examining each of her fingers. “Ironic then that I should love you and ask you to leave behind your home—even knowing the result.”
She touched his cheek. “But I am alive.”
“For now.” A sad smile tugged at his cheeks. “You must understand, I revealed the truth about your birth to Charles’s wife. I destroyed his marriage.”
She placed a hand on his chest. “No, he destroyed his own marriage.”
Guilt remained crinkled at the corners of his eyes. She hated that she couldn’t smooth it away with her reassurances, but perhaps one day she would persuade him.
He patted a hand over hers. “Tell me, why did you run away?”
She blinked and glared at the wall.“I was deceived.”
“By John?”
She nodded.
His mouth snapped shut. He traced her cheek absently with a finger. “You have means to defend yourself against him, my love. We all do. Your abilities have begun to surface. Have you discovered their extent?”
“Their extent?”
He climbed up and caught the end of a potted vine, the only plant in the room. “You glimpsed mine, but allow me to demonstrate more fully. Do not be afraid.”
She giggled. How could playing with a creeper possibly be terrifying?
The stem burst outward. It split into multiple directions and spilled over the shelves and floor, writhing forward, gripping the walls and hardwood like a hungry monster, leaves bursting to platter-sized spades. She leapt back, pressing into the sofa.
He let go, and it stopped inches from the couch. Half the room had been transformed into a jungle.
“Touch it,” he said.
She leaned forward tentatively and reached for a broad leaf. It was real.
“Growth. I can enhance the generation of organisms and shape them.”
She eyed the creeper again as he stepped carefully over the lacey green veins. “It costs, but that is how I heal people, by quickening their natural processes and reshaping them to become whole.” He sank into the cushion next to her, leaning his head on the frame. “When we first start, our abilities stem from suppressed emotion. Take Lester, for example. He wanted to run away. He ran, faster than any being has ever run.”
She blinked. “Bell
ezza said he was one of us, but there are others?”
“All of those in this house, Alexia.”
“Christianne.”
“You may call yourself what you wish,” he brushed her cheek with a thumb, “but you will always be Alexia to me.”
She grinned. “So Ethel, Nelly, Miles, and Edward are Passionate?”
“Every last one.”
“What can they do?”
A cautious frown crept over his face. “You will learn.”
“M-Miles, he talks with animals—”
“Among other things.”
That puzzled her. “And Nelly, it has to be something with food.”
He chuckled. “They are unique. Many Passionate share abilities, especially in a bloodline, but these are some of the rarest talents you will encounter. I do not advise prying, however. What one can do is rather personal, unless volunteered. Which reminds me, you should not tell anyone about your dreams.”
“Why not?”
“Trust me.”
She nodded. “And you work for Edward?”
He froze, brows scrunching. “I think you are a bit mixed up.”
“Mixed up?”
He looked away. “Edward works for me.” He ran one hand through his hair. “And Ethel, and Nelly, Lester and Miles.”
“You?” She couldn’t quite quantify that one. He was the master of the house? Him all this time?
He took a deep breath. “I am what you might consider a leader.”
“A leader?” The idea seemed too incredible. “Like a magistrate or sovereign?”
“Like a friend,” he corrected. “A friend who cares very deeply about what becomes of them.” He leaned and tickled the vine he’d spontaneously sprouted. “All of them.”
“Including . . .”my mother. She gaped. “How old are you? You said you have been watching over me my whole life, that you asked Dana not to leave.”
His hand hovered over the plant. “I am older than I ought to be, and younger at the same time.” His eyes landed on her face. “I have not felt so young at anything in a long time.”
“How old?” she repeated. “How many years?”
His mouth twitched at one end. “Enough.”
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