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Gwen remembered that look in Sirus’s eyes as he held her hand against him that horrible night when they’d come through the mirror. That moment had changed her. A sharp sob escaped her, and she was powerless to stop her tears from coming then. She could have died. He nearly had.
All the blood. That kiss. The terror. The passion. Her body ached as she sobbed and shook amongst the sheets. The swirl of emotions was overwhelming and confusing, but deep down Gwen knew she had to tell Sirus the truth about what she’d done. All she could do was hope he wouldn’t hate her for it.
Chapter Three
She was awake.
Sirus had walked the forest for hours before a sudden urge drew him back. Barith found him and delivered the news only moments after he’d returned. The depth of relief that had overcome him was unexpected.
Each minute since had been weighted. His blood pulsed with an immediate need to go to her. To see her. It’s why he’d returned to the forest in the dead of night. To keep himself away from her until the feeling subsided. It hadn’t.
She wished to see him. He still could not quite believe it.
Barith had reluctantly divulged her desire before none too lightly warning Sirus against upsetting her. The dragon’s protective instinct toward Gwendolyn had riled something far too close to possessiveness within Sirus. Knowing Barith’s warning was warranted struck him like a cold blade between the ribs.
He’d returned to the forest in a dark mood, stewing between the draw to go to her and knowing he must give her space. It had been maddening. Sirus could hardly make sense of his reactions. He assumed it must be her magicks that caused this pull. Magicks that now filled his own veins. Pain was the only way he knew how to describe it. He felt pain at forcing himself to keep away from her. Pain he could manage. Pain he knew. It would subside. It must.
Dawn threatened as he prowled the halls of Volkov, light streaks of dark blue hinting above the distant mountains. He would wait for Gwendolyn to summon him, whenever that would be. He only hoped she would be able to stand the sight of him long enough to give him a chance to express his apologies for what he’d done to her. Sirus knew it could be days or weeks. There was also the chance she would change her mind completely. He deserved her derision and mistrust. Every time he thought it, he growled in frustration. He could keep away for now, but the draw to see her only seemed to be growing stronger. He’d caught himself standing in front of her door twice already.
He was on his second lap of the east wing. Her room was on the second floor. Sirus wasn’t quite sure what would happen if he stopped moving. This anxiousness was foreign to him. So foreign he struggled to collect himself and focus his thoughts. She was in his home. Under his roof. Only 637 paces from his own room.
He ran his hand over his newly trimmed beard. It was pleasant to have it short once again. He tensed when he recollected washing all the blood out of it. Gwendolyn’s blood. The tight grip of guilt that held his insides squeezed like a vise. Sirus flexed his hands at his sides, focusing on the strain of his muscles. He drew in the cold of the shadows, willing the familiar chill to help him find his focus. She was in his blood, but he’d felt her even before that night of the mirrors.
Yes, she was beautiful. Yes, he found her desirable beyond sense. He knew he was infatuated, and Sirus was not a creature to become infatuated. It’d taken time for him to deduce what it was that truly intrigued him about her. He’d found her trust in him to be a product of naivete, but it had tempted him. She’d tempted him by being herself with him. Sirus was used to people being guarded, withholding, and veiled. No one was ever truly vulnerable near him, given what he was. She’d not only been vulnerable, she’d been passionate and caring. The way she’d peered into his face as he lay dying would be forever burned in his memory.
You’ll be okay, I promise. He shuddered. He’d known he wouldn’t be, but that promise struck his frozen heart like a hot knife. Somehow, she’d kept that promise.
Sirus steadied himself, his pulse slowly relenting as the shadows washed over him. He’d known from the moment he’d become conscious after that night of the mirrors that he was her servant.
A sound caught his attention, and his eyes flew open. It took him only a moment to recognize where he was. He’d not even realized he’d ascended the steps to the second floor. His body went rigid when he heard a slight movement in the hall around the corner. His breath caught. Each of her soft, creeping steps sent his senses ablaze; his recently calmed heart pounded with a hard thud at each footfall. She was out of bed.
He knew she should still be resting, but he couldn’t bring himself to think or feel anything other than anticipation. She was moving toward him. The scent of lilies and soap crept ahead of her. She would not wish to see him yet. He could easily dip into a room and out of her path unnoticed. The bastard that he was, he didn’t move a muscle.
The moment she came into view, his chest swelled and his skin suddenly grew tight around every inch of him, as if he no longer fit in his own body. Gwendolyn’s head was turned to look over her shoulder, her gaze locked on an elaborately crafted tapestry that hung along the wall—a group of faeries on a forest hunt. The length of her fair neck was strained to get a better look, stretching that line of freckles that haunted him. She looked beautiful in a simple forest-green sweater and dark pants. Her chestnut hair lay freshly brushed around her shoulders like wavy strands of silk.
It became apparent a moment too late that she wasn’t going to sense him in time. Guilt struck him before her eyes slid forward, recognizing his looming form right as she planted into his chest, sending a wash of her scent wafting over him. His blood surged. Gwendolyn squeaked, stumbling back over her feet with a start. He instinctively reached out to grab her and keep her from falling over. Sirus knew he should never touch her again, that he didn’t deserve to touch her after what he’d done, but he couldn’t let her simply tumble to the floor.
“Holy hell!” she snarled, clutching her hand to her chest in fright, her bright green eyes filled with fire.
“Apologies,” Sirus offered weakly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He hadn’t, though he knew he’d not done much to prevent it either, monster that he was.
“Seriously?” she bit out shrilly in her unfiltered shock. “You should wear a freaking bell!”
The thought amused him. In part because he’d spent far more than her lifetime developing the skill of remaining undetected. He thought it best not to say as much, instead giving her a moment to gather herself. His stomach tightened with unease when her pale face grew that much whiter as she took him in. Her shallow breaths soon evened, her gaze raking over him slowly. Each inch of his body burned with awareness under her assessment.
“You look—” The words were breathless, her expression stunned. His insides twisted with satisfaction and disgust. Sirus knew he looked hale. He felt stronger than he had in years. All because of her. What she’d given him.
Gwendolyn was a vision, but there was no denying she was paler and clearly weaker than before. Guilt clawed like a rabid animal. He remembered the look in her eyes as he’d torn into her flesh—the pain. The sound that had snapped him out of his desperate hunger and back into reality. The moment he realized what he’d done.
Sirus had already considered what he would say to her when he finally saw her, but as he stood there, face-to-face with her, all words seemed to abandon him. When her wide green eyes traced down his arm to the place he still held her, he let go in an instant, as if his fingers had been singed by fire. He put distance between them.
He didn’t deserve to touch her. He didn’t deserve to linger in her presence. He deserved none of it.
He wanted all of it. He wanted her.
The jolt of raw truth nearly sparked a curse to slip from his lips. He could not want her, because there was no point. Sirus knew, without a doubt, there was no chance he would ever have her. There was no chance Gwendolyn would ever want him.
She’d wanted to see him, and there he’d been. Hovering like a dark, looming shadow. He was nothing less than beautiful.
