Thalion didn’t answer right away. Not because he didn’t know the answer, but because he wanted to search inside his soul to see if somehow he’d missed something. Still, no matter how deeply he delved into himself, all he saw was her. There was no Thalion, of the elves, without Cyn, of the fae.
“I do not exist without her,” he finally answered. “To say that Cyn is not mine would be like saying the moon could shine without the sun, or that the earth could survive without their existence.” He met the older elf’s gaze. “It just isn’t so. There is no other for me.”
“And for her?” Reeve asked, his words bold, meant to challenge Thalion’s beliefs.
A small smile tugged at Thalion’s lips as he thought of the woman whom he adored utterly. “No, there is no other for her besides me.” He chuckled. “None would have her, the obstinate beauty,” Thalion growled, though the fondness did not leave his voice.
Reeve gave him a knowing smile. “You’ve no intention of letting her walk away.”
It wasn’t a question but Thalion answered as if it were. “Every realm will crumble and cease to exist before I let that female give up on us.”
The old man let out a contented sigh. “Now that I don’t have to worry about whether you will be okay after I’m gone, tell me about how you met her.”
“You’ve already heard that story a hundred times,” Thalion said.
“Actually, it’s only been 99. So let’s make it an even 100 before I leave this life and go to see my Sentara.”
When Thalion didn’t say anything, Reeve looked over at him, his brow furrowed. “I will tell Sentara you weren’t kind to me while I was in mourning. She will haunt you for all eternity.”
Thalion snorted. “I see you are not above ridiculous threats to get your way.”
“Glad we’re seeing things eye to eye. Now quit boring me and tell me the story of your love.”
The elf prince let out a resigned sigh and crossed his ankle over his knee. He leaned back and rested his clasped hands in his lap. His mind drifted back to the first time he saw Cyn, and he felt his chest tighten and his stomach drop to his toes just as it had done that day. It was a cosmic fluke they even met in the first place. But, can anything be a fluke when true love is involved?
The elves typically did not leave their own realm. They did not meddle or get involved in the affairs of humans or other supernaturals—at least once upon a time they didn’t. But the high fae council had insisted that an elvish representative meet with a representative of the fae. This request was so unprecedented, Thalion didn’t dare send a representative. If the fae wanted elvish council, he would come himself. It wasn’t as if he didn’t trust his own warriors, but a multitude of dangers might surround such a meeting. He wouldn’t blindly send one of his own into such a situation. So Thalion had gone, expecting to meet one of the high fae. Instead, it had been her—Cyn. She had been formal, aloof, cold, and utterly breathtaking. She hadn’t known, at that time, that he was the prince. She merely assumed him an elvish ambassador. And he hadn’t bothered to correct her.
“I saw Cyn for the first time in a village in the human realm, on the continent of Europe,” Thalion began. “It was nighttime and a storm had descended suddenly. The weather seemed to pop up from the ground rather than roll across the sky. One minute things were calm, and the next the wind was raging as though it were a scorned lover and the pouring rain were her tears. I glanced up at the sky briefly, but then my attention was snatched by her presence. I could feel her.” Thalion’s eyes stared off, past Reeve and through the window just beyond the bed. He felt himself being pulled into the memory as the room around him and his companion faded away.
“You are not a male,” Thalion said to the beautiful fae woman standing less than twenty paces in front of him.
“And you’re not a strong drink or my warm bed. We all have to make sacrifices, elf.”
Chapter 3
“Sometimes I wonder if memories are a blessing or a curse. They can cause such joy, but they can also cause your heart to be ripped out repeatedly.” ~ Cyn
Cyn felt her eyes begin to lose focus as her mind slipped back to a time many, many years ago—a time when no fae would ever dream of being mated to a werewolf. “The storm came out of nowhere.” Cyn continued as Peri listened intently. “One second, the sky was clear, and then the next second clouds were rolling in like waves upon the tide. The heavens opened, and it felt as though the tears of thousands of angels fell to earth.”
“At some point we are going to get to the part where you actually meet him, right?” Peri asked deadpan. “Are you just building suspense, because you don’t have to do that on my account. Get right to the steamy stuff. I’m a busy fae.”
Cyn stared back at the high fae, patiently waiting for her to be done.
“I hate it when you do that,” Peri grumbled.
“Do what?” Cyn asked, tilting her head ever so slightly to the side.
“Tolerate me,” she replied. “It’s not nearly as fun to poke you if you don’t get irritated.”
“Maybe Iamirritated.”
Peri snorted. “That’s your irritated face? I thought that was your concerned face. And your happy face. And your pissed off face. And…”
“The point has been made, Perizada. The horse is dead. You can cease the beating.”
“Just to be clear, you’re the dead horse, right?”
“Do you want to hear the story or not?” The younger fae ground out through clenched teeth.
