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She knew she was an idiot, but she liked him. A lot. More than a lot. Last night, she’d even thought about making a move on him herself, but she’d chickened out at the last second, mumbling some incoherent nonsense about bedbugs and the sandman. She couldn’t really remember what she’d said, but she’d followed it up by throwing herself onto her bed with a groan of utter embarrassment. Smooth she was not. She’d not seen him since and wasn’t looking forward to it.
Gwen ran her fingers over the warm waters, relishing the tingle. Insecurity was a crappy, nagging harpy, and it followed her everywhere. Constantly whispering in her ear that if she put herself out there, she’d only get hurt. That if she told Sirus how she felt or what she wanted, he would only reject her again, and what good would that do? She was better off keeping quiet and protecting herself. Protecting her heart.
Her lips pursed, and she scowled. Whoever that woman was from his past deserved a good arse kickin’, as Barith would say. Gwen had seen the pain in Sirus’s face the other night in the library, even if it had been subtle. She might not have recognized it so acutely if she hadn’t known that brand of pain intimately herself. Rejection was a hard pill to swallow. Even worse when you felt it was deserved.
Her heart ached anew. That horrible woman had hurt Sirus. Worse, he seemed to be completely fine with it. Like he’d even expected it.
She did not want me.
There are not very many who open themselves up to my kind. For good reason.
Gwen didn’t know the specifics, but she didn’t need to know to put it all together. Her blood boiled. She wanted to hunt that woman down and give her a piece of her mind. Maybe even a fist in the face.
She felt irrationally vengeful. Possessive. It was a new feeling, and more than a little overwhelming. She’d never felt possessive of anyone. She’d never loved anyone before either.
Gwen groaned, letting her body slide forward to the edge of the deep bench so that she was up to her ears in the warm water. She didn’t love Sirus, but the word struck a little too close for comfort.
Before the mirrors, she’d gotten little glimpses into Sirus. Little glimmers of his thoughtfulness. His kindness. How he’d scooped her up when she’d been drowning under the weight of awakening her magick in London. The way he’d thrown himself in the fray to save her from Aldor in the mirrors. How he’d held her to him while he bled to death. In Abigail’s garden, something had already been blossoming inside her, but her attraction had drowned it out. It wasn’t just a crush or lust or anything so simple. Not anymore. Gwen felt different when she was around him. She felt seen in a way she’d never felt before. She felt understood. Near him, she didn’t feel afraid. Her eyes blurred, obscuring her view of the trees until the loose tears trickled down and mixed with the water.
She was afraid, she recognized. Afraid of this constant ache inside her that seemed to be rooted in shadows. Like a dark flower that grew in her chest and threatened to bloom but couldn’t quite unfurl its petals. He was so much more than he knew. So much more to her. Being here with him at Volkov…it had been precious to her in a way she was struggling to comprehend. She’d started to feel at home here, despite her best efforts not to. Gwen knew it wasn’t smart of her. That harpy of insecurity kept telling her she shouldn’t care about him like she did. That she barely knew him. That it’d only been a little over a month…and yet she couldn’t help the way her heart ached thinking about him.
It was her insecurity that had kept her from believing he could be interested in her again. She’d been sure he was only acting friendly to ease their time together until she was shipped off to the Veil. She’d been sure that any little lingering looks or dark flashes in his eyes were all in her head. Sirus didn’t want her. He never even touched her unless he had to. Like when she was falling over her own feet. Gwen had thought she’d caught him looking at her body, but she’d convinced herself that she’d only imagined it.
He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
Those words had echoed in her mind over and over, and in Sirus’s voice.
A little flurry hit her forehead, spreading a pleasant chill against her hot skin, and she looked up into the sky. Snow had begun to fall in large clumps. Her breath caught in her chest as she watched the white flakes fall and begin to gather around the spring and in the trees. It was magickal.
Gwen lifted her hand up high enough out of the water to catch one large flurry before it melted. The bite of cold was lovely. She smiled from a place raw and deep inside her. She loved the snow.
A shiver spread over her skin. She tucked back into the warmth of the pool, but the shiver continued. Gwen spun, scanning the forest and the deep recesses of shadow in the trees.
“Hello?” she called out, a little trill of anxiousness flooding her stomach.
No reply. No movement. The snow began to come down harder, and she glanced up again. Gwen couldn’t see him, but her insides knotted, and that little shiver rippled up her spine. What gripped her, she wasn’t entirely sure, but before that harpy of insecurity could whisper in her ear, she stood up on the bench. The sharp scrape of the cold spread over her hot, exposed skin, flooding her body in a pleasurable contrast of temperatures. Gwen smiled at the sensation and tipped her head up to the sky, letting the flurries fall over her.
Maybe he was out there somewhere. Maybe he wasn’t. All she knew was that if he was out there, she wanted him to come closer. So she spoke to the forest and the shadows and the snow the first words that popped into her head:
“There’s room for both of us, you know. I promise not to bite.”
The growl that reverberated through his chest was nothing less than feral.
Gwendolyn stood with her head tilted to the sky, her nearly naked body hovering above the spring like she were one of the priceless statues within Volkov.
She was more beautiful than any work of art he’d ever beheld.
Sirus had not expected to find her here. He’d come to soak himself. He had been so preoccupied with his thoughts, he’d not recognized her swimming in the spring until moments before she turned and looked into the darkness. For the first time, he’d stumbled upon her entirely on accident.
That smile had transfixed him. The pure bliss of it. Then it broke, and she looked into the woods, calling out to see if anyone was there. He’d dipped further into the shadows of a tree, unwilling to be found, mortified that she would think he’d come on purpose but humming with excitement knowing she’d felt him even if she couldn’t see him. Sirus was not honorable, but he knew it was crude to watch her and not reveal himself. It was one thing to skulk in the shadows and watch her as she traipsed around his castle. It was another to leer at her half-naked body as she swam in an enchanted pool.
He’d turned to go. Only he hadn’t. His feet hadn’t budged. He was frozen to the ground, as if his boots had turned into great, rooted trunks of a tree buried deep beneath the earth. He’d not been able to tear his eyes from her either.
When she stood, water sluicing, steam rising over her creamy skin, it’d pulled the air clean from his lungs like he’d been struck in the chest with a battle axe. The sweet smile that had spread over her lips as the snow flurries cascaded along her body had set his skin aflame and a shiver coursing through him all at once.
She was a vision. A nymph. A siren. Venus herself.
Then she spoke.
