Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

E mil's hands fly up, and I register that he's holding a small, sharp-looking object for me to see.

It's a sliver of wood.

A glance at my shoulder tells me it was one of the splinters that got stuck in me during my orchard-destroying frenzy.

I glare at him. " Ow ."

He points to his chin where I smacked him and pointedly says, " Ow ."

My glare deepens. And then eases. Damn him .

He reaches toward me again, eyeing me carefully. "There's another splinter in your arm. It's pinning the material to your skin. Let me just?—"

I wrench backward, registering the way the final tendrils of his dark light recede, leaving me free to move around.

"I can get it out myself." I quickly pluck at the narrow splinter, then at the splinters in my thighs and calves. The way I'd hitched the dress up and tied it into a knot has left my legs very exposed to flying shards.

At least the dress won't be torn when I let it down again.

Each splinter stings when I remove it, but I heal quickly.

I can't, no matter how hard I try, reach the final splinter that's lodged beneath my left shoulder blade. I nearly turn in circles, trying to grab it before I stop myself.

"Here," he says. "Let me."

"No."

His forehead creases. "You can't leave that wood in your body. I don't know what kind of magic these replicas are made out of, but the original trees were old magic. You don't want to mess with them."

My glare deepens. " Now you warn me."

A hint of a smile flickers around his mouth. "I really didn't think you'd tear it up."

"I offered you a deal. You answered my question, so I ripped up the orchard." I glare harder. "I honor my deals."

He stops reaching for me. "As do I."

"Clearly not."

His shoulders slump and then he's silent again. But not for long. "Will you let me…?"

Very slowly, he reaches for my shoulder, persisting beyond belief, but I'm forced to acknowledge that I can't get the damn shard out on my own. If what he said is true—and indeed, the energy I felt within the trees tells me that even the replicas could be dangerous—then I can't let my pride dictate my choices right now.

I angle my shoulder forward and turn slightly to give him better access. "Okay."

He focuses intently on my shoulder, his fingers brushing my skin as he carefully parts the ripped material. The gauzy dress was certainly insufficient armor against flying debris.

I close my eyes as he takes his time inspecting the shard, his touch gentle and soothing, before he quickly yanks it out.

I wince. Damn thing must have been embedded deeper than I thought.

Only a moment of pain shoots across my back before he swoops in, pressing his lips to the wound, feathering my skin.

I choose to stay where I am.

I choose to defy reality and pretend, for a moment, that he isn't my enemy.

My voice is a whisper in the quiet. "If I keep my eyes closed, you will be my keeper again."

His response is low and soft. "I will be your keeper until the moment of my death, my Veda. I will not be anything else."

His hands slip around my waist, pulling my back to his front before his mouth nudges the side of my neck. His right hand rests low across my stomach, a tantalizing inch above the top of my pelvis.

His thumb brushes across the gauzy material, and pleasure spikes between my legs, a heat that I literally tried to run away from.

It returns with a force I wasn't expecting, a deep, aching need.

"Say the word," he murmurs at my ear, his lips brushing my earlobe. "And I'll ease the ache you feel."

How often I forget that my heart tells him everything, even my desires.

"I think you already know my answer," I say.

With a groan, he dips his hand between my legs, finding my clit beneath my dress.

Heat and need swirl within my core as he strokes me, pleasure flooding my limbs, intensifying when his other hand cups my breast and strokes through the material.

I arch into his hands, both of them, needing and wanting more even though I know this is as close as we'll get.

I want his vulnerable, needy kisses. I want his naked body between my legs. I want every moment when I could have lost control but chose not to.

The climax comes quickly, a rush of heat, a shuddering release that crashes through me with a force I wasn't expecting. A release that's complete enough to wipe away all the need within me, and yet it does nothing more than skim the surface of what I want from him.

I take what I can from it.

Physical release. An easing of my desire. The ability to focus beyond the pleasure he can give me.

It isn't enough. It wasn't enough.

I want to tell him so, even though I'm sure he senses it, but he speaks first.

"You should hate me again now," he whispers.

Then his arms fall away from me.

I open my eyes and now I'm forced to face the room, the brightening light through the window, and the reality that comes with it.

The kitchen is quiet. Emil is quiet. I can no longer hear the echo of my mother's humming.

"My home was never here," I say, completely out of context, but I need to say it out loud. "This whole place is a nightmare dressed up to look like the home I never had. But I can't find my home in the past."

Emil takes a step back from me, his presence becoming distant once more.

Oh, this fading distance. I hate it as much as I hate the silence that falls once again between us.

Before I can turn to him, a voice calls from outside the cottage. "Veda, dearest? Are you there?"

"It's Halle," I murmur.

She promised she would be back this morning.

My senses tell me that she isn't alone. There are two others with her, one with a burning hellhound scent and the other whose magic is more familiar. It can only be Orlan, the warlock who is loyal to Halle. I first met him on the train when I helped Elijah.

I step away from Emil but half-turn back to him. "Come with me or don't. It's up to you."

His forehead creases behind the curtain of his silver hair, a hint of confusion, but I sweep from the room before he can speak.

I'm satisfied when he follows me into the hallway, even though he keeps his distance.

Ahead of me outside the cottage, Halle stands within my direct line of sight.

As I sensed, the warlock Orlan is with her. He's dressed in a suit but wears it casually, with the shirt unbuttoned at the top and the jacket undone. He has neatly cut hair, bright eyes, and a strong jaw, and my guess is that he's only a few years older than me. He also wears tattooed runes on his palms, which he uses when he accesses his magic.

One of the hellhounds from yesterday stands with Orlan, and I recognize him as the one who took humanoid form. His skin is reddish-brown and his wavy, dark-brown hair is pulled up into a warrior's bun at the back.

As for Halle, she's in black jeans and a black T-shirt, although she has reverted to her sweet, fairy-dust persona with auburn hair, bright-green eyes, and freckles across her nose.

No doubt she chose it to disarm me.

Maybe she thinks I'll go easy on her this morning.

She doesn't wait for me to exit the building before she gestures to the cottage and then to the orchard behind her. "Dark saints, Veda. What happened here?"

My pack has gathered behind her and I'm struck with guilt at the worry in their eyes. They're all giving me a visual check over. Even Jonah is leaning forward, daring to stand near Halle and only stepping back once it must be obvious that I'm fine.

"I had feelings," I say to Halle as I pause at the door and still a step within the cottage.

She eyes the distance between us. No doubt because I haven't exited the cottage yet. Maybe she thinks I'm trapped here, too. If she does, she doesn't say anything about it.

"Feelings?" she asks.

"Unhappy ones."

"But…" Once again, she glances at the rubble that remains of the orchard and then at the debris that has spilled through cottage door and windows. "Hmm."

I'm not sure what her humming sound means.

She considers me with a deep crease in her brow, and I suddenly feel like a specimen. Or perhaps a spectacle.

I guess I'm about to make myself more of one.

A reckless and possibly immensely stupid spectacle.

I scoop up my boots from beside the door where I left them earlier and shove them onto my feet.

Emil is now located only two steps behind me, and I exhale my doubts as I reach for him.

He stiffens when my hand wraps around his arm.

"Come with me or don't," I say again, tugging him firmly toward the door.