His hands spasm around my wrists before he releases them, placing a soft kiss on my neck before pushing off me. Immediately I miss his comforting weight and his scent and warmth. I could smell him all day, let my hands explore those defined planes with every curve and bulge of muscle.
Shit, I am so worked up with his arousal and mine combined, it’s making it extremely hard to concentrate.
“The sex we had was amazing, but why was I asleep for four days?”
Maxon's restless pacing comes to a halt, strands of hair falling into his eyes, tempting me to reach out and brush them away.
“You went through Renascitur.”
“Renascitur?”
“Yes, it’s the fae version of puberty.”
I laugh nervously, feeling my stomach twist in knots. “But I’m twenty-five years old.”
“It doesn’t matter. Your time spent in the human realm has had an impact on you. Being here and our mating has triggered the activation of your fae blood. We believe that when you were transported to the human realm, a potent spell was cast upon you,concealing your fae heritage and erasing certain memories. Our mating shattered the spell that was intertwined with your blood.”
My mind whirls as I try to make sense of everything. I remember my dreams and the words my mother whispered before pushing me through the portal. Then another thought hits me, leaving me completely breathless. I had a mother and a father and they loved me; I wasn’t abandoned.
Emotions clog my throat, and I stand abruptly. “I . . . need to use the bathroom.”
Tears well in my eyes as I walk on shaky legs to the bathroom, needing to splash some cool water on my face. Almost as if in a trance, I lean over the sink, cupping the cool water in my hands, and splashing my face several times. Once the tap is turned off, I rest my palms on the smooth stone on either side of the sink, watching the water slowly drain away.
With a heavy sigh, I grab a towel, pressing it against my face to block out the world. A sharp pang of loss strikes with the realization that I lost my parents. I never knew for sure. I assumed they had died, but now . . . now I remember them clearly.
I glance up at my reflection in the mirror and my eyes go wide, my heart skipping a beat at the sudden shock. Stepping back, I lose my balance and accidentally knock several glass bottles off the nearby bench. The bottles collide with the ground, shattering into countless pieces, and sending shards of glass flying in every direction.
Maxon pushes through the door with such force it bangs against the wall, the sound reverberating around the room.
My wild gaze meets his. “What the hell happened to me?”
Maxon’s features soften with understanding. “I’m sorry . . . I should have warned you, but it slipped my mind. I’ve seen youlike this for three days.” He walks over to me and cups the side of my neck, his thumb stroking my jaw in soothing motions.
“My eyes,” I choke.
My mother’s eyes . . .
“They are beautiful.”
“They are the same as my mother’s,” I whisper.
Maxon’s eyes search my face. “You remember?”
“Some . . . ” I admit.
Moving closer, Maxon tips his face down to mine. I am not a small girl, but he always makes me feel safe and protected. That spark in my chest grows, slowly increasing in strength. I can feel its ghostly tendrils stretching toward him as if to embrace him. The tenderness of his touch sends a shiver down my spine. Then his lips crash down on mine, before I can even process the intent.
My heart races as I melt into his body, my hand sliding up his sides and around his broad back, pulling him tightly against me. The kiss is slow and gentle. The faint sound of our breathing is the only thing I can hear. We’ve had a lot of kisses, but this is beyond anything I’ve ever imagined. His other hand wraps around my waist, pulling me tighter against him. The thumb stroking my jaw stops and his fingers sink into my hair, tipping my head back further to deepen the kiss.
“You are mine, Stóirín,” he breathes against my mouth.
My little treasure.
Resting my forehead against his chest, I can feel the steady beat of his heart. I let it calm me as I try to come to terms with my appearance. My eyes are now a vibrant mossy green with flecks of silver, just like my mother’s. My hair seems longer, thicker and more radiant than before, while my ears have taken on a pointedshape. However, the most astonishing and surprising change is the tattoo on my right temple, an exact replica of Maxon’s.
Chapter thirty-nine
Maxon
