19 RISE FROM THE ASHES

CAILEAN POURED THEM both generous cups of wine and handed Bree hers. Their fingers brushed as she took it, and a familiar heat rippled up his arm.

The feline pupils of her eyes dilated, her gaze snapping back to the present. She’d felt it too, the awareness that shivered between them.

Shit. This isn’t helping . Doing his best to ignore the tingling in his fingers, Cailean took his wine over to one of the sleeping nooks, heeled off his boots, and climbed in, moving the furs so that they provided a pillow for his back against the rough stone wall.

Then, cradling the cup of wine in his hands, he leaned into the nest he’d created.

Meanwhile, Bree didn’t move from her stool.

Now that he’d left her side, her attention returned to the flames. The fire burned bright, hungrily devouring the lump of pine he’d just added. Sipping her wine, she continued to stare at the fire, its light making her eyes glow like two candle flames.

Cailean couldn’t help it, he drank the sight of her in.

Sitting like that, her expression solemn, kissed by firelight, he’d never seen anything more beautiful—or otherworldly.

There would be no mistaking her for a Marav woman now.

Look away, you fool.

It was dangerous to gaze at Bree like this, especially after his decision to continue to Cannich without her. But he couldn’t help it. As both Marav and Shee, she ensnared him.

Silence swelled in the lean-to, broken only by the crackling of the fire. And as Cailean drained the last of his wine, he couldn’t bear it any longer. “Sometimes it helps to share heavy thoughts.”

Bree blinked and glanced his way. Her lips then curved into a tight smile. “Trust me, you don’t want to hear these. They’re just full of self-loathing and defeatism.”

He snorted. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

She cut her gaze away. “No,” she replied, her voice catching slightly. “I admit, I don’t feel like myself tonight.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Did meeting Flynn again rattle you that much?” He really shouldn’t be asking so many questions. However, he couldn’t help himself.

“Maybe.” Her gaze fixed upon the dancing flames once more. “He was a reminder … that it doesn’t matter how far or fast I flee, I can’t outrun myself … or the life I’ve led.”

“Is that what you’re doing … running?”

She swallowed. “Maybe.” Silence fell, and then Bree lifted her chin, her gaze settling upon him. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have come looking for you.” The pain in her eyes made his chest involuntarily tighten. “I’m not usually someone to linger where I’m not wanted.”

He stared back at her. He couldn’t deny her words, especially after what he’d said to her earlier. Suddenly though, he wished he hadn’t been so blunt about it. He could be a callous prick at times.

Bree dragged a hand down her face, exhaustion rippling over her features. “I left Sheehallion, following a mad impulse … believing that I could make a fresh start,” she admitted softly. “But I can’t.”

“Why not?” he asked cautiously. They were straying into dangerous waters now, yet he couldn’t help but push things further.

“Because some people don’t deserve a second chance.”

He frowned. The fatalism in her voice unnerved him. “Do you really believe that?”

She nodded. “I’ve slain so many. Each mark was just a job to me. The first few turned my stomach, although it didn’t take long before I felt nothing.”

He nodded. “It was like that for me too. When I began serving the High King and was bidden to hunt and kill those who’d never done me any wrong, I thought I wouldn’t get used to it … but I did.”

Their gazes held then before Bree grimaced. “And that’s the problem, isn’t it? When death leaves you unmoved. You should always feel something when you take a life.”

He didn’t reply, even if uneasiness shifted deep in his chest. This wasn’t a subject he enjoyed discussing, especially since thoughts of reckoning dogged his every waking moment these days.

“You’re no longer the Raven Queen’s assassin,” he said after a heavy pause. “You can be whoever you choose now.”

“Can I?” Pulling a face, she turned back to the fire, avoiding his eye. She paused then and lifted the cup she still clutched to her lips, draining it. “That need not concern you though … I shall let you go on your way tomorrow. I’ve pushed myself on you long enough.”

Cailean stiffened, a chill washing over him, even as he kicked himself. Wasn’t this what he wanted? “Where will you go?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

His pulse quickened. Aye, it did. Rolling out of his sleeping nook, he set his empty cup aside and approached the hearth, pulling the second stool around and lowering himself onto it so he was facing Bree.

Surprised by his move, she straightened, her expression wary.

“You can’t just give up,” he said firmly. “It isn’t in your nature.”

Her lips lifted at the corners, although her golden eyes remained bleak. “I’m not like you, Cailean. You’ve got a purpose … even if it’s a blood-thirsty one.”

“Well, find yourself a reason to live then,” he countered, trying to ignore the ache in his throat. The Hag’s nails, he couldn’t stand seeing her like this. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until fire ignited in her eyes once more. “You’ve burned your old life to the ground … rise from the ashes, for fuck’s sake.”

Her gaze snapped wide at his vehemence, and her breathing grew shallow.

They stared at each other for a few heartbeats, and then something inside Cailean gave way.

He leaned in, captured her face in his hands, and kissed her.

Bree gasped, her lips parting under his, and his tongue swept in, devouring her.

A groan rumbled in his throat. She tasted of wine and woman, like she belonged to him. The faint scent of rose wrapped itself around him as he slid a hand to the back of her head and deepened the kiss. While she’d been a Marav woman, he’d associated the sharp scent of lavender with his wife, not rose. In the past, when he’d hunted the Shee, rose had been a warning. He’d found the perfume cloying. But not any longer.

Instead, it awoke a primal urge inside him. One he was tired of fighting.

Bree kissed him back hungrily now, her tongue sliding against his, her hands splaying across his chest, and her fingertips digging through the leather into his flesh.

Cailean hauled her off the stool and onto his lap so she sat astride him. She was taller as a Shee and so bent her head as she gently bit his lower lip and raised her hands to cup his face. The gesture was both tender and possessive.

And then their mouths savaged each other’s, need quickening like a flame on dry tinder.

Gods, he’d tried to forget what she tasted like, how good her body felt pressed against his. But he couldn’t. And when she ground herself against him, and a groan tore from her throat to find him rock-hard for her, heat swept over him, incinerating any coherent thought.

He was supposed to agree with her—to confirm they’d go their separate ways the following day. Instead, something had shattered inside him.

He wanted her naked. Now.

Reaching up, he started untying her leathers, stripping them off her, while she tore at his vest and breeches too.

Panting, they wriggled out of their clothing, and when—at last—firelight played on her long limbs and smooth skin, Cailean pulled her back astride him on his lap. He then slid his hands down the long arch of her spine before he ran his fingertips up the smooth skin of her arms, to the delicate sweep of her collarbone and swan-like neck.

“Am I still pleasing to you?” she asked huskily, her eyes glowing as she watched him. “Even like this.”

“Aye,” he murmured, as his fingertips traced the underside of her small, high breasts. He then dragged his thumb over a hard nipple, heat coiling in his belly when she gasped. He couldn’t believe she’d worry about such things, yet he’d happily reassure her. “You’re beautiful.”

Her golden eyes grew limpid at these words. He meant them too. Leaning in, he trailed his lips up her neck to the shell of her ear.

“Hold tight,” he whispered, his belly clenching as she shuddered against him. “Let’s move somewhere more comfortable.”

In response, Bree wrapped her arms and legs around him, clinging to Cailean as he rose to his feet and carried her to a sleeping nook. Then, laying her down upon the furs, he crawled over her, his mouth capturing Bree’s once more for a long, hot kiss.

She writhed against him, her hands sliding against his skin.

He drew their kisses out, until they were both panting, before moving down to her breasts. Pushing them together, he feasted upon their swollen tips. His groin throbbed with each hoarse moan she made, every whispered plea.

How many times over the past moons had he recalled her husky voice urging him on, begging him to take her? How many times had he taken himself in hand, giving himself the release he needed yet never feeling fully satisfied? Too many, and he’d cursed himself after each incident .

But he wasn’t cursing himself tonight.

Instead, he let his bitterness and regret go. He let himself have what he craved.