Page 22 of Of Masks and Fury

She ran her fingers through my hair, and we lay in the light, breathing together, slowly coming back to ourselves.

“I’m never letting you go again.” I lifted my head, meeting her eyes. “No more protecting me, Isi. No more impossible choices made alone. We’re stronger together. That means we face the impossible together too. Even if it’s dangerous. Especially then.”

I turned my head and kissed her temple, holding my lips there until my breathing steadied.

“I can’t promise I won’t be terrified,” I rasped. “Can’t promise I won’t want to lock you somewhere safe. But I won’t let fear make me abandon who you are, a person who’s brave enough to walk into a nightmare for the people you love.” My voice dropped to almost nothing. “I just need to be there with you when you do it.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

ISI

Iwoke to sunlight and Trew’s arm banded around my waist, his breath warm against my neck. He’d left last night but snuck back in early this morning, telling me we’d have to be careful or someone might suspect we were together.

Every muscle ached in the most delicious way. Evidence of the past hours marked my skin. His fingerprints on my hips, the scrape of stubble along my inner thighs, and a tender spot on my breast where he’d sucked hard enough to leave a faint mark.

Trew propped himself up on one elbow and studied me in the gray light of dawn. He’d have to leave soon, and I missed him already.

His hair was still the wrong color, sandy brown instead of the dark silk I loved, and this wasn’t the face of the man I loved. But those golden eyes were pure him. They tracked across my face with an intensity that made my breath catch.

“How long have you been awake?” I whispered.

“I didn’t sleep.” His fingertip traced the curve of my cheekbone, featherlight. “I wanted to remember this in case we can’t touch again for hours.”

We’d have to pretend to be strangers, maintaining distance while every cell in my body screamed to be near him.

His hand drifted lower, tracing my jaw, my throat, and the hollow at the base of my neck where my pulse jumped from his touch.

His fingers stilled as morning light shifted across the room, highlighting the now-subtle bruises on my shoulder where the blanket had slipped.

“I still want to kill him.” The words came out flat, matter-of-fact.

“Most of the time, so do I.” And that was the problem. He was still my father, the man who, more often than not, had shown me he loved me.

How could I cut the cord that bound my heart to a man who could act like a monster?

His hand hovered over a lingering bruise, not quite touching. “May I?”

I nodded.

Magic flowed from his fingertips. This wasn’t the wild, destructive power I’d seen him use in battle, but something gentle. Healing magic, seeping into damaged tissue.

“This will help,” he said, his voice strained with concentration. “I wish I could do more, but my healing magic works best on myself.”

I felt the magic work its way deeper, encouraging my body’s natural healing. Relief seeped through me right away, but what undid me the most was the tenderness in his touch and the way he traced each mark, as if he could erase not just the bruises but the memory of how I’d gotten them.

“Better?” he asked in a croaky voice that beat through my chest more than his angry tone ever could.

The ache was gone.

“Much.” I caught his hand and kissed his palm. “Thank you. Healing these doesn’t erase him, though.”

Trew’s eyes softened, the violence in them dimming. “It’s a start.” Barely restrained violence growled through his voice. “This doesn’t end here, Minx.”

“We need to be smart about this.” I leaned into his touch. “I hate all of it. The disguise. The pretending. Having to act like I don’t know exactly how you taste.”

His eyes darkened, and his arm tightened around my waist, pulling me closer until we were pressed together beneath the sheets. “We’ll manage.”

“Will we?”