Chapter Twenty-One

I assumed Rath was taking us back to the citadel. I was wrong.

We appeared on a wooden platform, our view framed by thick tree branches. I stepped out of Rath's arms and across the planks to the railing. My hands slid over the polished carvings of vines that blended the railing into its environment. There wasn't a lot to see beyond the tops of massive trees, but there were buildings in those trees—some at ground level and more within the branches. Stairs spiraled down from them, around the enormous trunks. Not that the Varraen needed stairs. They could use their Air Magic to simply float down to the ground level of their village.

Leaning over the railing, I peered along the cobblestone path that wound between the trees, uniting homes and shops in a natural fashion. There was a shopping district nearby, but it was small, nothing like the last Varraen city Rath had taken me to. I turned to face him and ask him where we were.

Then I saw the house.

Was it still called a house when it was perched in a tree like a bird? I knew we were in a tree as soon as we arrived. That wasn't what shocked me into silence. It was the grandeur of the home. The elegant exterior rose several levels above me, right into the canopy of leaves. As with the railing, the architecture was straight out of nature—every board a piece of Varraen craftsmanship, every frame adorned with carvings of blooms and beasts. The great arch behind Rath bordered a pair of glass doors and within the curls of flowering vines carved around its frame, wolves hunted, some of them howling, others more peaceful.

“Holy fucking shit,” I said.

“Do you like it?” Rath asked.

“I mean, the outside is amazing.” I stared up the length of the home, my gaze catching on several balconies. Then I looked back at him. “Um, where are we?”

“The town is called Dellamar. Do you know of it?”

“No.”

“It's on the tip of Krix, the point that stretches toward Raxis. The coast is a mile that way.” He pointed. “Raxis is just across the Suhar Channel.”

“Raxis.” I looked at the wolves and a shiver went down my spine. “Rath, is this your house?”

He took a step toward me. “It's ours if you like it. Yours, mine, and Xaedren's.”

“Holy shit,” I whispered. “You mean, for after the war?”

“Yes.”

“Taroc took me to a place he bought for us too. Did you guys talk about this? Have all of you bought homes?”

“Yes. Xae and I decided to share a home with you. Keltyr and Taroc wanted their own. Since Xaedren doesn't have any family left, he was all right with living in a Varraen village, but he still wanted to be close to Raxis. I think it was more about the climate than anything else.”

“Rath.” I shook my head. “This is incredible.” Then I scowled. “But it would have been nice if you'd included me in the conversation.”

“We wanted to surprise you.”

“I get that, and it's a great surprise, but these are supposed to be my homes too, right? Or am I just the toy that gets passed around?”

Rath's eyes went wide, and he stepped back as if I'd struck him. “That was . . . terribly unfair. And just terrible, Ember.”

“Yeah, all right. But so was buying homes without telling me. So, Kel has a house too?”

“An apartment. I won't say more about it. He's excited to surprise you with it.”

“In Ruva?”

Rath blinked. “Yes. How did you know?”

“It's where he grew up. And where he took me on our first date.”

“Ah.” Rath sighed. “If you don't like it, we can find somewhere else.”

“I like it. That's not the problem.” I went to the archway and ran my hand along the border of wolves and flowers. “You obviously put a lot of thought into this place. It's a combination of Xae and you.” I turned to face him. “But where am I? Taroc at least left some rooms bare for me to fill.”

“We've done a little more than that. Let me show you.” Rath opened the doors and headed inside.

I stepped into a cozy living space of dark wood, heavy furniture, and green fabric accents. It was yet another combination of Xae and Rath—the solid masculinity meeting delicate refinement. And I still didn't see myself in it. But what would that even mean? Who was I? Shit. How did a house challenge my fucking identity?

Then I saw the knitted blanket. It was casually laid across a chair near the fireplace. As if its owner had just gotten up and cast it aside. How many times had I seen it laid in just such a way? Hundreds at least. Tears filled my eyes and emotion constricted my throat as I went to it. No, it couldn't be the same blanket. Fress had been burned to the ground, my house included. I'd mourned the things I'd so carelessly left behind, but had never mentioned it to Rath or Xae. Partly because Rath had been with me when I packed a bag to take to the citadel. A small bag. He had commented on it, asking if I was sure that was all I wanted to take. And I had said something flippant. I didn't have a lot of possessions that were important to me. Just a few mementos that I had taken with me. Or so I thought.

I guess I had assumed I could go back for the rest. Or maybe it was one of those things where you don't care about something until it's lost forever. But after Fress burned, I started thinking about all the little things that my home had been feathered with. The tea set my mother loved. The rug my father had braided for her. And the blanket she had knitted for me. This exact blanket.

I picked it up and buried my face in it to hide my tears. But I couldn't hide the way my shoulders shook. It smelled like home.

Rath's hand slid up my back to grip my shoulder supportively. “I knew you weren't thinking straight. So I went back for your things. I packed up the whole house.”

“You what?” I spun to face him. “Everything?”

Rath smiled gently at me. “I wasn't sure what you'd want. I figured I would keep it for you until you missed something, and then I could surprise you.”

“When?” I whispered.

“When what?”

“When did you go back for everything, Rath?”

He cleared his throat and looked away.

“Rath.”

“The next day.”

“You went back the next day?” I gaped at him. “You barely knew me. Why would you do that for me? It must have taken all day.”

“It took several days actually.”

“Rath.”

“Ember, I have loved you from the very beginning. My heart recognized you instantly. That's why I fought my attraction to you so adamantly. I knew if I lost you, I'd never recover.”

My legs wobbled. My heart clenched, pumping out a signal so strong and bright that it shot down the line between us and made Rath smile. He opened his arms, and I went into them.

Tucking me in against his chest, Rath said, “I distributed everything among us. There are pieces of you in all our homes. I'm surprised Taroc didn't show you the teapot he took.”

“Teapot?!” I jerked back to look up at him. “The copper kettle?”

“Yes.” He grinned. “Did you like that one?”

“It was always over the fire. My mother liked having hot water ready in case she wanted a cup of tea.” I blinked back my tears, but one slid free. “It will be nice to see it in my home again.”

Rath brushed it away. “Some people say that possessions are just things. They don't matter. They are not the people we loved. But I disagree. Some items hold memories for us, and when you're immortal, reminders like that are especially important. Time claws at our minds. It steals little moments. But precious things like this,”—he ran his hand over the blanket—“they retrieve those stolen moments. So, cling to your possessions, Ember. Wrap them around yourself.” He took the blanket and drew it around my shoulders. “Hold them to your heart and cry if you have to. Crying is another way of remembering. Tears are a badge of honor that we offer our dead. A sign of a well-lived life.”

“Rath,” I said brokenly and grabbed his waist to pull him into a kiss.

The blanket fell to the floor, but it would be safe there. As safe as I was with Ratharin. I moaned and moved against him, but he eased back, laughing softly.

“Don't you want to see the rest of the house?”

“Later.” I undid his belt. “Now you deserve a reward for two reasons.” I dropped to my knees and stared up at him.

Rath stared back, his long hair falling around his classic Varraen face. The points of his ears poked up through the dark, glossy veil, and his eyes gleamed in the shadows it created. He was back to his calm, steady self, even as I drew his shaft out of his pants. But then his eyes went half-lidded, watching me bend forward.

I grinned around Rath's flesh when he sucked in a breath. That calm was shaken again. His long fingers slid into my hair and dug against my scalp. His hips jerked forward. But that was all I noticed before his taste and the silken feel of him took over. Then my reactions to him became prevalent. The way I strained against my pants. The way my mouth watered around him, needing more of that Ratharin taste. The way his smell invaded my head. I took him deeper. Moved faster. Tightened my lips.

“Ember!”

I moaned in anticipation.

With a wordless roar, Rath came, adding a new delightful flavor to his ambrosia. I drank it down, thanking the Goddess for this incredible man who had apparently been mine from the start.

Licking my lips, I sat back on my heels and stared up at him. Rath was glorious standing there with his cock out, the flesh going flaccid but glistening beautifully. He was still panting when he pulled me to my feet. Rath didn't bother to tuck himself away because he was already hardening again when he lifted me into his arms.

“Next on the tour is the master bedroom,” Rath said as he carried me to a doorway.

Grinning at him, I said, “I hope you bought a sturdy bed.”

Rath snorted. “I knew we'd be sharing it with Xaedren. It's Ladrin-made. Nothing can break that bed.”

“Let's test that.”