Chapter Twenty-Seven

Darius banked his wings sharply, and Tanitha, her arms around her neck, buried her face against his shoulder with a little noise of fright. He landed as gently as he was able on the balcony outside her room, then carefully set her down.

"How was she?" he asked quietly, steadying her. He drew on the darkness around them, forcing it to coalesce more deeply immediately around them, then pulled open one of the heavy wooden doors. Gently, he removed the blindfold from Tanitha's eyes.

She was silent for a moment, turning slightly away from him as she blinked several times in the darkness.

"She was relieved that I'm safe," she said. "And it was good to see her."

"But?" he asked, hearing the unspoken word in her tone. She didn't answer, still facing slightly away from him, and he let out a quiet sigh as he took her hand, leading her into her room. "She didn't want you to come back to me." He couldn't even make it into a question.

Tanitha shook her head. "I should have expected it," she said softly. "That she'd be frightened by everything I told her. I wanted her to know that I'm safe and now… now I think she's more frightened for me than before." She wrapped her arms around herself. "No, she didn't want me to come back," she said. "You thought that might happen?"

"It was bound to, if she cared for you at all," he replied. "She's just worried for you. From the outside, this situation isn't…" He gave a quiet sigh. "It's less than conventional."

Tanitha bit her lip. "You still took me to her," she said, a question in her voice. "You thought she'd try to persuade me to stay with her. And… you still took me to see her?"

Lightly, he took her hand. "I know how much you've missed her," he said quietly. There had been a small, irrational part of him that had worried that Lithra might be able to convince Tanitha to stay. In truth, he didn't know what he would have done if that had occurred. He never would have forced her. But he would have begged her if he had to. He drew her close, one hand lifting her chin to tilt her head up for a kiss.

She shied away from him. Startled, he released her.

"Tanitha, what…?" he began, then trailed off, not even certain what to ask. She'd never done that before.

Tanitha's posture was tight, and she glanced around, something in the set of her shoulders and expression reminding him of the first night they'd spoken after he brought her here.

"May I ask something?" she asked, a faint tremble in her voice.

He looked at her, puzzled and, if he were honest with himself, more than a little bit uneasy at her behavior. It had been a long time since she'd felt the need to ask permission for something like that. "What is it?"

She hesitated. "You've never spent the full night with me," she began. Tension immediately sprang to Darius' shoulders. "And… you said it was because you might change form in your sleep," she said cautiously.

"Yes." He hoped his tone, flat with no interest in elaborating, would be enough to warn her off this topic. Much as he cared for her, much as he wanted to be with her, he hadn't forgotten that as a soul-speaker, she was dangerous to him. Telling her why he couldn't risk being asleep near her would only make that more true. He trusted her, but his kind had not survived for as long as they had by being open about their vulnerabilities. He wasn't going to tell her this until he'd settled the matter of whether, knowing who he was, she was willing to be with him.

"What form do you most often take?" she asked.

"Does it matter?" he replied, looking at her sideways. "Most of my forms besides this one are very dangerous. Not anything you'd want to find beside you in bed, I can promise that much."

"Like what?" she asked. There was something strange about the way she was holding herself, as if she was as reluctant to ask as he was to answer. He couldn't imagine why she felt the need, though; why would she be worried about this when he'd been clear that he never meant to sleep at her side?

"It's not something that needs to concern you," he said. Though he'd meant to keep his tone neutral, an edge of warning had crept in.

"But…"

"Leave it, Tanitha," he said sharply. She took a half step back, her eyes widening for a second. He stilled, looking at her searchingly. Had that been fear in her expression?

He raised one hand in a placating gesture, trying not to feel stung by her reaction before he remembered that she couldn't see him. He lowered his hand, casting about for how best to handle this. He knew he'd never hurt her, but that did nothing to change the fact that she'd been raised her whole life to be wary at best of his kind. She was clearly past the worst of that with him, but that didn't mean he could use a tone like that with her.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "This is just a sensitive matter to my kind. And I don't want to discuss it further."

She clutched her wrist tight with her opposite hand. "Would you discuss it if I were one of your own kind?" she asked.

"I've told you, it doesn't matter," he said, fighting to keep exasperation from his voice. "Why are you asking about this?" Actually, now that he thought about it, that was a very salient question. "Something your sister said?" he guessed. It was quite likely, he thought, remembering Tanitha's words about how some people would quell conversation about the city's rulers by voicing reminders about how they likely turned into terrible beasts when alone.

"No," Tanitha said, glancing quickly to the left. "It's just… I'm…" She swallowed. "Would it be different if I were a demon as well?" she asked softly.

His brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of where this was coming from. "You're enough, Tanitha," he said quietly. He stepped forward, cupping the side of her face with one hand. She leaned into it, wrapping one hand around his forearm. That was a relief, at least, after her earlier reaction.

"I could be with anyone of my kind that I wanted," he said. "But I don't want that. I chose you." He stroked her hair, trying to read her expression. She didn't look reassured, so perhaps insecurity wasn't at the root of this, but he couldn't imagine what else it might be. He dropped his hand away.

"If you were a demon, it would be safe for you to sleep beside me through the night, yes," he said. He couldn't tell her everything, but maybe addressing her question partially would be enough to set it to rest. "There's a marriage custom among my kind," he said. "When we are wed, we show our true forms to our mate. They are the only one we ever allow to see it."

"But… you haven't shown that to me," she said, her tone still hesitant.

"No," he said, and he was surprised to realize how much that fact pained him. "It's important that both change to that form at the same moment." Keeping his tone very gentle, he added, "And you can't do that."

She shook her head once, confused. "This— this is my true form," she said, gesturing down the length of her body. "I don't have another."

"A true form is different from a birth form," he explained quietly. "Your body houses your spirit, but one isn't a reflection of the other in your case. Although yours are both incredibly beautiful," he said, taking her hand. A faint blush rose in her cheeks. He hadn't meant to add that, but he didn't regret it; he didn't think he'd ever consider anyone to be more beautiful than her, no matter how stunning their features.

"So… do you not consider me to be your mate?" she asked softly. "Since I can't wed you as another demon could?"

"That isn't it at all," he said, startled. He took her other hand. "Tanitha, this doesn't mean anything. I can't show you that form, and I'm sorry for that." That was true, to his surprise; he did wish he didn't have to hide that from her. But he couldn't. Not with a soul-speaker, not unless she was willing to be ritually soul-bound to him in turn. And he certainly wasn't going to ask that of her with how much trust he was asking her to extend to him already. Perhaps one day, but not yet. He continued, "Please don't think that this means anything about how I feel for you. It doesn't. I swear it."

She took a slow breath. He drew her close, and his wings swept around her with the embrace, encircling her. She rested her head against his chest, a small shiver running through her. He tilted her head up, trying to read her expression and was disconcerted to realize that he couldn't. There was something strange there, some worry or concern that she wasn't voicing.

Time , he decided reluctantly. He'd just dealt a blow to her confidence in how he felt about her, however much he hadn't intended to. He couldn't do anything about that but allow her time to consider it and to realize that it truly didn't mean anything about his feelings toward her.

He gave her a gentle kiss, his lips just barely brushing hers despite how much further he would have liked to have gone. He released her, and she pulled away, though at least this time she left one hand in his. There was still a strange tension to her posture, a wariness he hadn't seen from her in a long time. He almost reached out to her again, but stopped himself. Time , he told himself again, despite a sharp twisting of his insides. She needed time.

And answers.

Tanitha turned, her hand still lightly closed around his, to lead him to the bed. He followed, then sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her. He closed his eyes for a moment, bracing himself to speak. He didn't know how she'd react to knowing who he was. But it was long past time that he found out.

Still, he hesitated, and he blinked, his eyelids feeling strangely heavy. She was in a vulnerable state right now, obviously. Was it right or fair of him to tell her now? But another part of him knew that was foolishness, that he was delaying far more out of cowardice than out of concern for her.

He gave himself a small shake. He'd already made the decision, so he wasn't sure why he was sliding backward on this. His mind felt strangely muddled, and he shook his head once more, trying to clear his head. Before he could fully grasp what was happening, his eyes drifted closed, his awareness failing him just as he started to fall to the side.

Tanitha sat very still, her entire body tense and trembling. It had been alarmingly easy to send him to sleep, and the fact that she'd done it made her feel physically ill, bringing a bitter taste to her mouth. She'd as bad as drugged him, and the thought left her feeling sick and disgusted with herself.

The room started to brighten, the darkness he'd summoned receding. She took a shuddering breath, turning her gaze away from where he'd fallen sideways across the length of the bed. He still didn't want her to see his face, and though that pained her, she could forgive it. She could allow him to keep that secret. But the matter of his true form could actually pose a danger to her. Gods, she thought, closing her eyes tight. Tears leaked from beneath her eyelids. Why couldn't he have just answered her? Why couldn't he have just told her what the form was?

Would she have believed him if he had?

She didn't know. She was long past fearing that he meant her harm. She believed that he loved her, that he cared for her deeply. She even believed that he had what he considered to be very good reasons for keeping her ignorant of certain things. None of that, though, changed the fact that he had a long history of withholding information that she had a right to know.

She laid one hand over her abdomen. It was still too early for her to feel the flutterings of a new life that she knew was growing there. And she hoped with every fiber of her being that that life wasn't a danger to her, that it was something she could love and cherish and protect. Something that they both could cherish and protect. But she didn't know that yet, and no matter how much she told herself that he'd never do anything that would lead her to come to harm, the doubt born of all his evasions was too much.

Tears continued to stream down her face, and she couldn't make herself open her eyes. Not yet, not until she knew he'd shifted to his true form. One betrayal was enough. Her hand, still wrapped around his, tightened. She could only pray that he wouldn't know what she'd done. That when he awoke with her asleep— or feigning sleep— beside him, that he'd believe that he'd fallen asleep of his own accord. The demons held true forms as sacred, and sanctity was something she'd thought she'd never breach. But even sanctity had to step aside in matters of life and death.

And this truly was that. You don't know what you're carrying , Lithra had said, and that was true. She knew every inch of her lover's body, and yet not what he was. And that was one more secret than she could accept now.

Elemental magic flared against her senses. The texture of his skin abruptly changed under her hand with a rippling sensation, and she wrenched away, her heart suddenly in her throat. Was it simply the words of an old Sabrian prophetess echoing in her mind, or had that felt like scales ?

She held herself tight, her posture hunched. It wasn't too late, she reminded herself. There was still time to change course, to walk away from this. But she knew she couldn't do that. Words echoed through her mind. Bride of the serpent. You don't know what you're carrying . And her own words, her promise to Lithra that she would make sure this child wasn't a danger to her.

She took a deep breath. Her host, her lover, her friend… the night he'd first brought her here, he had been meant to take her life. She had already given up, already surrendered, but he had thought otherwise. He'd decided that her life was worth preserving. Surely if she made the same decision now, he wouldn't view that as a betrayal.

She opened her eyes, then turned.

She wasn't sure what she had expected—some horrible reptilian beast, perhaps—but that wasn't at all the sight that greeted her.

He was still human in shape, but that was where the resemblance ended. His muscular, powerful build was covered in bronze scales, each one smoldering with the light of a burning coal at its center. The glow of the scales rose and fell in a seething conflict of shadow and flame that played across the whole of his body with the rise and fall of each breath he took. His wings were of leather now but studded with scales as well, these ones black and limned with fiery red. Curled ridges of similar color ran from between his shoulders to the small of his back. His hair was loose and tousled, partly covering his face.

Tanitha's hand flitted to her mouth, a gentle sort of awe at the beauty and strength of the form washing over her. With the sensation came a blinding understanding, and with it, relief. Not a serpent of the earth. Not a snake, not a monster like she'd feared. A serpent of air and fire. A dragon .

She reached out as if to lightly touch his face, then drew back hurriedly. She'd done what she needed to do, and knew what she needed to know. She needed to release her hold on him and let that be the end of this, never so much as speaking on it.

Suddenly an indescribable sensation washed over her, a similar feeling to when she was soul-speaking, but much harder, much more grasping. It felt as if something were somehow twining itself through her spirit, as if something foreign and indescribable was burrowing to the core of her being. She threw herself away from him with a gasp. She took several heaving breaths as the sensation receded.

His eyes flew open, and in an almost impossibly fast motion, he forced himself upright. He looked at her, a tight, disbelieving horror in his gaze. "What have you done?" he whispered.