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Sirus stood from his crouch and looked down at his arm. “No. They are gifts from Rath, given to every new leader of our clan. They are ancient magick from the Shadow Dark. They offer protections against lethal magicks.”
Gwen shifted to sit on the edge of a rock, brushing her fingers over the warm waters. “So Niah doesn’t have any?”
“The process is—extensive. To endure it is a rite of passage to prove you are worthy of leading.”
Her stomach churned. She could only imagine how horrible it must’ve been if it was used as a test of strength to lead a clan of immortal killer vampires. Nerves once again rose, along with a burn in her throat. She’d seen the tattoos spread over his bare chest when she’d leered at him through the window, watching him and Barith fight in the back garden in London, but that’s not what came to mind now. Instead, she thought of the tattoos she’d seen around the gaping wound Aldor had left. The ones smeared underneath all his blood. Her eyes drifted down to that spot at his stomach.
Gwen wanted to keep enjoying this, the forest, the fresh air, him. She wanted to pretend like things were fine and the clawing guilt wasn’t squirming in her chest like a gnawing, vicious parasite. She looked down to the steaming water and wondered if he’d soaked in the healing spring after that night with the mirrors. Gwen couldn’t get over how beautiful he looked. How healthy he was. That, at least, brought her a little comfort…a little.
She took in a deep breath, her nerves cascading in great waves, and let it out slowly. “Sirus,” she started. She’d tried to tell him back at the castle, but she’d been so startled by his confessions about his family, she’d lost her nerve. “I have something I need to tell you.”
She just had to say it. Even if he’d hate her after. She didn’t want him to hate her. Gwen closed her eyes, and all she saw was an image of him sprawled and bleeding and dying.
“It’s my fault,” she blurted, followed by a rasped breath. “It’s my fault you got pulled into that mirror. That—that you almost died.” She opened her eyes but kept them glued to the water. She couldn’t look at him. “I came back. I did something—” she went on, her voice cracking. Gwen looked down at the pink lines over her palms, then balled them into fists until her knuckles hurt. “When he took me the first time, you didn’t come with me. I don’t know how I did it; I just blinked, and I was standing there again, back in front of the mirror, back in the library. It’s my fault. I?—”
“Stop.”
Gwen flinched at his sharp command. Her heart thrummed, so loud he could probably hear it too. The forest rustled in the silence that stretched. Her stomach fell as her throat tightened with emotions. She tilted her head up, daring to look at him. He stood with his arms casually crossed over his chest, his black hair jostling in the gentle breeze.
“I tried to follow you,” he said at last. “And I failed.”
She shook her head, remembering the look on his face when he’d slammed into that barrier between them. A memory he didn’t have—couldn’t have. Gwen swallowed her emotions. “Sirus,” she breathed, pained by how poorly she was explaining this. “You almost died.” He had died. She still didn’t know how he’d come back, how her blood could have saved him when her own body was so weak. The wound beneath her sleeve was still raw and healing. And he looked—perfect.
The trees stirred, and the leaves whipped at her feet. Sirus’s boots suddenly fell into her line of sight. “It’s not the first time,” he told her.
Gwen scowled in frustration, then slowly raised her head to look at him. Tears threatened, and she willed them away. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t let him play this off either. “But I almost got you killed this time,” she reminded him, her voice cracking. “Don’t pretend like it was nothing. That it wasn’t my?—”
“I am not afraid of death, Gwendolyn,” he pronounced with such force she shivered.
She tried to swallow and couldn’t. Her throat was too tight. He didn’t understand. She jumped up and shifted away from him, though she could feel the heat of his lingering gaze on her back as she did. “I forced you,” she declared when her voice returned. “I know what I did, that it wasn’t what you wanted. Rath told us to leave you alone, but I—I was selfish.” Her throat clenched tightly again, and it took her a moment before she could continue. “I just didn’t want you to die. I promised you’d be okay. I’m the reason all that horrible stuff happened to you.” The weight of it all smashed into her, so heavy it robbed her of breath. She’d never been so scared in her life. She’d never been so desperate either. She wanted to tell him that. She wanted him to understand how she felt…but the words wouldn’t come.
“You forced nothing,” he told her, his voice hard with certainty. “I would have followed you every time.”
Gwen took in a shallow breath. “But I forced you to drink.”
“No, Gwendolyn,” he growled. She sucked in a startled gasp at the harshness in his voice and spun to face him. His eyes were cold, his face set in hard lines. It was the tension in his jaw that told her he was angry, but she didn’t think he was angry at her. He shifted back on his heel and took his time before continuing, “I’d not fed in a long time. I took what you offered. Then I took more.” The last words were ice.
He clearly felt terrible for what he’d done to her, but she didn’t care about the blood or the bite. She would have done it a thousand times over if it would have saved him. Gwen stepped closer to him.
“Sirus, I didn’t care—” she started, but he raised his hand to stop her.
“I would have taken more.” The darkness laced in his words made her skin skitter with tendrils of chill. “Much more.”
She didn’t believe him. As caught up in the moment as she’d been, Gwen had known he wouldn’t truly hurt her. And she’d been right. He was the one who had stopped himself.
The wind whipped loose strands of hair around her face, and she tucked them back behind her ears. “I wanted you to have it,” she made clear, and she meant it from the bottom of her heart.
He tensed at her words but said nothing.
Silence spanned between them once more, and they both just watched each other.
Gwen knew she hadn’t done this right, but she felt oddly settled now that it was all out there between them. They’d both said their apologies. They both had regrets. She knew they could argue about it back and forth for eternity, but she didn’t have the energy or desire to argue with him. Not now.
A needling pricked over her skin as the silence lingered. He was only an arm’s reach away. She wanted to close the gap between them. To see how he would react. She let out a stuttered breath of tension, and his eyes fell to her lips. It sent a rush of awareness through her…a rush of awareness and confusion. She kept catching him staring at her, and he’d dropped his gaze to her mouth more than once.
“Why did you kiss me?” she asked him, the question spilling out before she could stop herself.
His eyes shot up to hers, and the tendons in his neck tightened. “Why did you kiss me?” he countered.
