Page 196 of Spring Guardians & Songbirds

“Bathe me,” she said, and I did as told. Pulling her with me and filling the tub with hot water and tons of those smelling salts and herbs that she liked.

Once she was out of the torn clothes, she helped me get out of mine and I lifted her in my arms, dipping the two of us in the water. She sighed when the heat enveloped her body, leaning back to rest on my chest. “What method, Kilian?”

“It is a practice Obscurs are taught before our blessing blooms. We meditate to facilitate emotion, control it to our desire and maybe even get rid of it completely.”

She looked over her shoulder at me. “Rid?”

“Yes,” I said, lathering her arms with soap. “Strong emotion can sometimes accentuate our magic, so we train to douse or raise them, but emotions such as greed, jealousy, envy, those are completely useless to us and only hinder and disbalance our emotional state and therefore our connection with the spiritual. So we train…to get rid of them.”

“And you want me to do that?”

“No, I think Oryn didn’t mean it like that. I think he meant to teach you self-soothing—to draw power instead of letting your emotions do it for you.”

“Like when we met the Ybris at the temple.”

“Yes, sort of like that.”

“And that would work?”

“I believe it would help you control just how much you draw out from the seal and even store outside of it like most elementals do so you don’t have to ask for magic that pours out of you.”

“Alright then,” she said, spinning round a little to lay on her side before resting her cheek on my chest. As always, her fingers began skimming my skin till they landed on a scar near my shoulder. One she already knew how I’d gotten it.

“You made me afraid today,” I murmured, dropping a kiss to her hair.

“I think I always make you afraid, Adriatian,” she mumbled half asleep.

“I had thought I’d got rid of it, Snow. First thing I learned to get rid of. Never felt it for myself or anyone. Only for you.”

Her breathing had slowed, expression went lax with drowsiness, but she managed to whisper, “You make me afraid, too.”

She’d rested for a while. Sleeping soundly in my hold. When the water started turning cold, I very hesitantly brought the both of us out of the water and wrapped a massive towel around her. Once I’d bundled her up in my arms, I pushed the bedding out of the way and laid her down. When I cradled her to my chest, she sighed and said, “At least you’re not six foot four for nothing.”

“From the beginning of my existence till the end of it, I am all for you and all yours.”

She sighed and snuggled closer to me. “Sprouting poetry again, husband?”

I nudged her nose with mine. “Don’t act like you don’t like my verses.” Throwing a leg over hers and tucking her tight to me, I said, “Sleep.”

As usual, she tucked her hands under my shirt, laying her palms flat against my stomach and melting in my hold. And sleep swept her away in seconds.

She was awake before I was. I could feel her staring at me and couldn’t help the smile tugging on my lips. The way she always did this made a part of me glow with warmth.

“You’re awake.”

“The force of your thoughts woke me,” I said, cracking my eyes open. It was still fairly dark outside, the sun just breaking the surface in a dim purple light. My attention glued on her and how divine she looked beside me, her long hair pooling all over us. The other day I found a bunch on my table. They were everywhere actually, and I liked it. It meant that she was really here and that I’d not grown a concerning level of daydreaming.

I ran a finger down the bridge of her nose and she wiggled it as if it tickled. “You’re a painting.”

“I know I am,” she said, raising on her elbow and giving me a sultry look. “Should I have a portrait done for you?”

I wrapped my arms around her and hoisted her atop of me. “Why, when I have the real thing.” This realm’s moon hung on the skies, mine laid beside me, smiling and radiant. And for a moment, a split moment, it was full again. My moon had the sun in her eyes, too. So when she was happy, not only did she glow but she shone, too.

She kissed one of the scars on my chest and then the other. She kissed all three of them and then my chin. Her touches, her lips, her caress were gentle—always so gentle. Fuck, I must have died and gone to heaven.

“You smell like lemons,” she said, nuzzling my neck.

Lemons? “I use a citrus soap.”