CHAPTER TWO

 

MEMORIES OF FIRE and pain smashed against my skull and ripped through me, parching my throat and making me burn. A darkness rolled around my thoughts like molasses. Slowly I struggled to regain consciousness, but I couldn’t grasp hold of any concept like who, where, or why. Every thought was fleeting, flittering away at the last second like fireflies dancing in the night.

Opening my eyes after what felt like a long slumber, I blinked. Brightness filled my vision, and the deathly silence of the room around me throbbed in my ears.

When my eyes adjusted to the light, I glanced around. The small room I found myself in was clearly fae. The gossamer material over the ceiling was unlike any other building material on earth. The bed beneath me was soft, so soft I wanted to sink straight back into the oblivion I’d woken from. Only, the thoughts that had been so evasive moments earlier turned, twisting around to dive-bomb at me all at once.

I sat up to fight the lethargy in my body. As I did, an unfamiliar and uncomfortable sensation tugged on both my back and chest. The pressure of being upright pressed on me, causing me to cough wildly. Each wheeze brought another painful tug along my chest and back.

Glancing around again, I tried to recall why I was back in the fae court. How had I gotten there? When? The last thing I remembered was . . .

The memory danced frustratingly close to the surface, but I couldn’t grasp it. A vision of Aiden’s bright-blue eyes swam into my mind. Followed by the image of Clay—his dark-chocolate eyes. The change that had come over his gaze when . . .

I sighed as the memory eluded me again. I directed my thoughts instead to the more immediate issue—where I was and how I got there.

Why am I back with the fae?

Like a dam bursting, my mind was flooded with brief flashes of memories. Sneaking into the Bayview Hotel—the Rain’s New York Headquarters—to rescue Mackenzie. The confrontation in the treatment room with the Rain operatives in charge of the Bayview, including Clay’s father, Troy. Learning that my supernatural shadow, the one who’d stalked me for years and left a trail of blood in his wake, was actually an Unseelie fae who’d once been together with Clay’s mother. Having that fae, Caelan, take Clay’s twin sister hostage.

The memories flooded through me faster than before.

The knife at her throat.

The gun in Troy’s hand.

Clay wrestling him for it.

The sound crack of the gunshot.

Fire ripping through my chest.

One hand rose to the left side of my chest—to the spot where the bullet had torn through my skin as it exited my body—and landed on a bandage taped beneath the thin tank top I was wearing. A hiss left me, and I winced as the gentle touch renewed the agony of the injury, sending it radiating throughout my entire body until even my teeth hurt.

The door started to open, and I froze in place, wondering whose face would appear around the wooden obstacle. I sucked down a breath, but it was so painful I couldn’t hold it for more than a few seconds before it rushed from me—tearing a cry of agony from me as it left.

Mackenzie walked through the door. Her blonde hair rested in soft curls down her back, and the tips of her spring-green wings fluttered lightly as she carried a tray toward me.

She gave me a flawless smile when she saw I was sitting up.

“You’re awake,” she said.

“I’m alive,” I murmured. That simple fact, which should have been the most obvious thing in the world, was really only just beginning to sink in. I was alive, and I shouldn’t have been. There had been a moment where I was certain I was dead. Still, part of me felt dead—I ached and couldn’t even move my fingers enough to curl them into a fist.

How long had I been out?

The goodbye with Clay ran on repeat in my mind—my memory tinged with blood and fire. A memory, or dream, of being called back to Clay danced at the edges of my mind, but I couldn’t grasp the details.

“I noticed that,” she said as she placed the tray down on the bedside table. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” I said, before asking the question that had been burning on my tongue since I had awakened. The one far more important than how I felt. “Where’s Clay?”

“I convinced him to go spend some time with Mother today. He did not want to leave you, but I knew you would understand given the circumstances. I will, however, let him know you are awake and requesting his presence.”

I thought about arguing with her, telling her that she could just tell me where he was and I’d find him myself, but wasn’t sure I had the strength to climb from the bed. Plus, after everything we’d been through we could use a few moments of privacy before having to join in with everyone else. Besides, being upright and talking left me breathless. A fresh coughing fit took hold and ensured a brisk walk around the court was out of the question. At least for the moment.

“Try not to cough too hard or you might pull out your stitches,” she said. “Sit back and try to drink some of the water. It is enchanted so it will help you heal faster.”

“Thank you,” I said. It was obvious from her words and the way her eyes assessed my movements that she’d had a hand in my recovery.

“You should thank Clay,” she said. “He is after all the one who saved your life, against the odds.”

“How?” I asked, confused.

“That is my brother’s story to tell, so I shall leave him with that courtesy.” She gave me a knowing smile and left the room.

After taking a few small sips of water, I shifted up the bed and leaned against the headboard. Every second seemed to drag on forever as I waited for Clay. Guilt ate at me that I was dragging him away from his family, but I hoped they would understand why I needed him.

About five minutes later, the door burst open, practically flying off the hinges, and Clay rushed into the room. His mid-length hair was disheveled, and there were black bags under his eyes that indicated he hadn’t been sleeping well.

How long have I been asleep?

“Evie!” he exclaimed as he caught my gaze. “You’re awake!”

He practically ran to cover the ground to the bed, but slowed himself enough to sit gently at my side, before twisting to face me. Bandages covered his palms, and superficial wounds twisted up the length of his arms and across his throat and face.

Just as I was about to ask what had happened, he spoke. “Don’t do anything like that again. I couldn’t take it,” he said. “I’ve lost you more times than is fair already.”

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t let her die.” The memory of reaching out to try to knock the knife from our attacker’s hand to save the life of Clay’s twin sister, Louise, was firm in my mind as I said the words. It was a choice I would make a hundred times over—of course, I would have preferred not to earn a bullet through the heart for it.

“There was a time when she would have killed you without a moment’s thought.”

“I know,” I said, easily able to recall my fear over the years that Louise was hunting me—even though I’d thought it was Clay at the time. “But she deserves a chance to change now that she knows the truth. How is she?”

“How is she?” Clay repeated. His eyebrows were raised in disbelief, and his voice dripped with incredulity. “I would think you’d be a little more concerned about your own well-being.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Of course it’s not. You’ve effectively been in a coma for almost a week, and the first thing you do when you wake is ask how she is.”

“But I’m not effectively in a coma anymore, am I? I’m awake and talking and clearly okay for the moment, so can you please just answer my question?”

He sighed when he saw I wasn’t going to relent. “Lou’s fine. She’s still coming to terms with our heritage—especially because the binding spell lifted with Caelan’s death so she’s got a whole lot to learn.” He snorted. “You should see her wings.” The statement was followed by a laugh. “I wouldn’t count her among your friends just yet, but your miraculous return from the dead isn’t her biggest concern at the moment either. Just like your biggest concern in the first moments after you’ve woken from a healing sleep shouldn’t be about my twin sister.”

“Well, I know I’m alive, so now all I want is information. What happened? Why did the anti-fae charms work on you? Who exactly was Caelan? How’s Fiona? How’s Ethan? Did Zale escape? And what happened to you?” I asked, clutching his hand softly and inspecting the superficial wounds.

“You shouldn’t be so concerned with everyone else.” He cast his head down and barely whispered, “You died, Evie.”

“Obviously I didn’t,” I said, patting my body to prove my point. “See, I’m still here.”

He caressed my face with his bandaged hands. “You did. You were shot and you—” His voice broke and he stopped. “You died. You lost so much blood, and you couldn’t breathe. You began to burn. I came so close to losing you forever.” His breathing became erratic and tears glistened in his eyes. He drew my face closer to him. “I couldn’t lose you.”

I gently pulled his hands away from my cheeks and assessed the damage he’d done to himself again. “What happened?”

“I couldn’t let you burn,” he said quietly.

Vague memories of my last moments of consciousness crept into my mind.

The heat.

The fire of the sunbird.

If I’d died, the sunbird would have taken control and sacrificed my body to make way for the next generation. I’d experienced the fire the sunbird created often enough to know that the flames would have burst out of me and set the immediate vicinity ablaze. After that point, my skin would no longer create flame, but within minutes the blaze would have consumed me, leaving the ashes from which the next generation would rise.

Unless . . .

The reason behind the superficial burns on his arms and face became clear. “You pulled me from the fire?”

“I couldn’t let you burn,” he repeated, his eyes blazing with an intensity that proved the vehemence behind his words.

“You could have died,” I admonished.

He rolled his eyes and pushed away from the bed. “You were dead.” He raked his hands through his hair. “I had no choice. If I had to, I would do it again. After you were free of the flames, Mackenzie stepped in and brought you back. It was touch and go for a while.” He settled on the bed beside me and grabbed my hands in his.

I shifted nearer to him, hoping to wrap my arms around his waist and reassure him I was okay, but he yanked away at the last minute. He did offer me his hand again, but it seemed entirely inadequate.

Glancing down at our joined hands, I wondered why he wasn’t making a move to get closer to me or sweep me into his arms. I understood that my injuries were likely to cause him to move more carefully around me, but it seemed there was more to it than that. Something deeper appeared to be stopping him from getting too close.

“There’s something else I need to tell you,” he said, an unknown emotion evident in his quavering voice. His hesitancy and doubt made my heart feel like it was three sizes too big for my chest.

What could be so bad that he wouldn’t hold me?

“We’ve been monitoring your stats while you slept,” he scrubbed the back of his neck nervously with one of his bandaged hands, “and your temperature is in the normal range.”

“So?” I didn’t understand how that was in any way important. Certainly it wasn’t important enough for him to be holding himself so aloof.

“Not the ‘normal for a descendant of the sunbird’ range,” he clarified. “Normal for a human.”

What? “What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure, but I have a theory,” he said. “How do you feel?”

Ignoring the most obvious feeling—the general fatigue and aches and the painful tugging sensation on my front and back each time I moved—I took a moment to assess my body. At first, I couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary. It was only when I tried to force the energy into my fingertips in the way that was second nature to me after so long that I discovered it. The usual experience of pinpricks and heat rushing across my skin was conspicuously absent.

“I feel . . . cold.” It was the best word that I could find for the lack of the heat that had raced through my limbs for so many years now. There was only one reason I could think of for the chill.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured.

I wondered whether his suspicion was the same as mine—that the lack of heat I was experiencing meant the sunbird had returned to rest, or maybe she’d even burned up entirely. Maybe he’d broken the cycle somehow by rescuing me.

“And how do you feel . . . about me?” he asked.

My head whirled from the rapid change in conversation topic, and I raised my eyebrow at him. “Is now really the most appropriate time to discuss our relationship?”

“I need to know how you feel,” he said. “If anything’s changed, I’d rather you just rip off the bandage now and tell me. I won’t hold you to any promises you made while under the influence.”

“Why would anything have . . .?” I trailed off as a half-forgotten memory echoed through my mind. “What happens when the sunbird sleeps?” As the words ran through me, I understood the source of Clay’s anxiety. “You think this changes how I feel about you?” I guessed.

He shrugged and offered a coy smile. “I hope it hasn’t, but based on what I’ve read, I can’t make any assumptions. I don’t want to make an ass of myself thinking something that’s not true.”

“How can you even ask that?” A grin spread across my mouth to show him that I wasn’t angry for his question and that I even understood his doubt.

“I don’t want you to feel obligated if things aren’t the same for you anymore.”

Placing my hands on either side of his face, I tugged him closer to me. During the time I’d been unconscious, the unknown facts regarding the sunbird descendants and his concern for my well-being had obviously caused him concern and stress. The worry had left dark patches beneath tired-looking, blood-shot eyes. “Clay, absolutely nothing about us has changed for me.”

He gazed up at me from beneath his lashes, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. “You’re sure?”

“Of course I am,” I said quietly as I traced the circles under his eyes with my thumbs. “I still love you with every bit of my body and soul. Besides,” I said as I kissed the right-hand corner of his mouth.

He closed his eyes as my lips grazed his.

“You saved my life.”

He went to speak, so I pressed my finger softly against his lips.

“You pulled me from the fire,” I whispered with a voice filled with awe before kissing the left-hand corner of his mouth.

His lips parted slightly, and his breath hitched.

“I can guarantee you that there is absolutely no one in this world I could ever love more than you.” I pressed my lips fully against his.

When he kissed me in return, the tension in his muscles released in a rush. His fingers twined into my hair, and he held me securely against him. In that moment, he poured his emotions into me. Through his kiss, I experienced everything he’d held in and turned over while he waited for me to wake. It was heartbreaking and wonderful all at once.

“Despite your stubbornness and need to save everyone—even at the cost of your own life—you make me so happy, Evie,” he said.

I nodded because it was same for me.

After a beat, he started to murmur, as though he was just remembering something himself. “Hearts remote, yet not asunder; distance and no space was seen. ‘Twixt this turtle and his queen. But in them it were a wonder.”

I tilted my head in question as realization dawned in his eyes and a slow grin overtook his features. Whatever he said had clearly made sense to him.

“So between them love did shine that the Turtle saw his right, flaming in the phoenix’ sight: Either was the other’s mine.” He touched his lips against mine.

“What’s that?” I asked.

He tilted his head and clasped my hands. “Marry me.”

I chuckled in response.

“Not really the reaction I was hoping for,” he said as his eyes met mine. A quiver of anxiety ran through his voice, warning me his request had been in earnest.

I frowned. “You’re serious?”

“I wouldn’t joke about this sort of thing. I’ve lost you more times than I can count—I want to make you officially mine, because I can’t lose you again.”

“But what was that verse about?”

“It’s about us, Evie. The turtle and his queen.”

“Turtle?”

“Turtledove. Dove. Me.”

“Okay,” I said slowly.

“It’s from Shakespeare.”

“William Shakespeare?”

He laughed. “How many other Shakespeares do you know?”

I stared at him, feeling three steps behind the conversation.

“It’s a prophecy handed down from Titania. The fairy queen. I get it now.”

I was still lost, but I wasn’t sure if that was just because my head was still swimming and my thoughts groggy. “So you’re saying what? Fate has been pushing us together?”

“And it’s been fighting the things pulling us apart,” he said. “Just look.”

He placed his palm on mine and the muted tones of my own aura, one that showed that somewhere inside the sunbird still lived, danced with the bright blue light around his body. “Entwined auras,” I murmured as my heart raced. Even now, with the sunbird at rest, we were linked. “We never stood a chance, did we?” I laughed. Not that I minded in the least. I’d choose him again and again if I could.

“So is that a ‘yes’?”

Joy washed over me as his words registered in my mind and my heart. I nodded as a wide grin split my features. “Yes, it’s a yes!”

“Mom is going to be thrilled.” He grinned.

“Mom?” I teased with a raised eyebrow. He hadn’t used the M word before when referring to Fiona, his estranged mother who’d shown up on our doorstep less than two weeks earlier. Two weeks that had changed everything and sent the world off its axis.

He shrugged and lifted his hand to palm the back of his neck. “I guess I’ve had some things put into perspective lately. After nearly losing you and seeing how close the whole court is here, I can see that maybe it’s not such a terrible place to come from. In fact, if the worst thing that happens in my life is a phoenix fiancé and fae mother, I’ve got it pretty good.”

It was clear that he was choosing to ignore his father—or maybe he knew something that I’d missed while I was asleep. Regardless, it was a problem for another day, and I was happy to treat it that way. We were both safe as long as we were in the court. “You do have it pretty good,” I said. “And you know what?”

He hummed, waiting for me to elaborate.

“So do I.”

He kissed me again before pulling me gently onto his lap. I could feel his need for me through his jeans.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered as he trailed his hands along my sides and into my hair, pulling my lips back against his.

Humming in pleasure, I kissed him back. The aches in my body melted away almost entirely as my need to connect with him again grew in intensity. I shook my head as I broke off the kiss to say, “I can guarantee that this will never be too much.”

Our kisses were languid and slow. Even though I desperately wanted to claim all of him again, I didn’t want to push myself and cause any damage to the repairs that Mackenzie had skillfully administered.

“I have one question,” I said as I drew away after he’d kissed me almost breathless. “Why in the hell didn’t you tell anyone that you were still under fae enchantment when we were launching our attack?”

He scrubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t want to worry anyone. I kept thinking it would wear off at any moment.”

“You could have gotten us all killed,” I admonished.

“I know, and I never would have forgiven myself if you hadn’t pulled through.” His gaze fell to the bandage on my chest.

“It still hasn’t worn off has it?” I asked. Ever since he’d collapsed in the hall, I’d suspected that he was more fae than Ethan was—more fae than any of us had considered. After Caelan’s revelation about binding Louise, I even considered that Clay’s fae natures might have been somehow linked to hers in some twin-connection way. I wondered whether the pendant given to Clay as a child—which he’d subsequently given to me—had been used to suppress what little fae ability Clay had. It would certainly explain Caelan’s touch on it.

If that was the case, the pain Clay had experienced with his first taste of enchanted food was likely the beginning of the unbinding of his abilities.

He seemed to understand what I was asking. “I don’t think it will,” he admitted. “I honestly don’t even know what I am anymore. I’m human, but not quite, but neither am I fully fae.”

“Yeah, no wings,” I laughed.

“No wings,” he agreed—sounding almost disappointed.

“Look at us,” I said. “Just a couple of misfits.”

He held me tighter. “Suits me fine.”

I nodded before resting my head on his shoulder. “Me too.”