“I will,” she lied.
A royal carriage was waiting outside. The bewigged footman standing attendance beside the carriage door helped Ellie into the vehicle. She took her seat on the blue velvet cushions, folded her hands in her lap, and stared out the far window at the throng of people surrounding her family’s home. A strange, disturbing sense of darkness brushed her mind, and the hair at the back of her neck rose. Troubled, she scanned the crowd. Den Brodson’s face stared back at her from a distance, his eyes filled with malevolence and thwarted desire.
Black leather moved at the corner of her eye, and Ellie turned her head to watch Rain take his seat opposite her. When she glanced back out the window, Den was gone.
“Ellysetta?” She felt Rain’s concern even before she heard it in his voice. “Something frightens you?” The carriage lurched forward and began to roll through the parting crowds.
“No, I’m fine.” Den was no threat to her or her family. The Fey had seen to that.
Rain’s lips tightened in a faint grimace. “I did not mean to hurt your feelings a moment ago. Bel tells me I am an insensitiverultshartfor not telling you how lovely you look.”
“It’s all right.”
“Nei. It is not.” His hands fisted, then opened with obvious effort and pressed flat against his thighs. “I do not wish to attend this dinner. I do not wish to take you there. Not”—he added quickly, holding up a hand to forestall any misunderstanding—“because I am unhappy to take you, but because I do not want to expose you to their darkness. Or my anger.”
“Because of what happened yesterday?”
“In part, I suppose. But even without the current unpleasantness, I would feel the same. The last Celierian dinner I attended ended badly, and I cannot forget the memory of it.”
Ellie suddenly understood Rain’s scowl, his inattentiveness, and the tense anger coiled inside him. The last Celierian dinner Rain Tairen Soul had attended had taken place a thousand years ago and ended in the assassination of Marikah vol Serranis and her husband King Dorian I of Celieria. That dinner provided the spark that Gaelen vel Serranis, Marikah’s twin brother, fanned into the flames that became the Mage Wars.
“I’d forgotten you were there,” she admitted.
“I expect many have forgotten.”
“I imagine it was horrible.” Ellie heard the words leave her mouth and could have groaned. Of course, it had been horrible. It was a bloody, evil night that had led to an even bloodier and more evil war. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “You don’t have to talk about it.”
“Nei, it’s all right. It was a very long time ago. The wound is no longer fresh.”
“But it still has the power to hurt.”
He smiled a little. “Your heart is kind,shei’tani, to worry over such an ancient wound.” Then his smile faded. “Marikah died. Gaelen, her twin brother, gave himself to the Wilding Rage to avenge her and plunged us into war. Millions died. These things I cannot change, and I no longer weep for might-have-beens. It’s simply that my memories remind me of what can happen at such seemingly innocuous events.”
She leaned across the carriage and reached out to take his hands in hers. She meant the gesture to be comforting, friendly. Loving, too, but in a gentle way. Perhaps it was his unsettled emotions. Perhaps it was her own unsettled emotions. Perhaps it wasjust theshei’tanitsahunger rising in both of them. Whatever the reason, the moment she touched him, sudden desire roared up inside her, a gout of invisible flame leaping from her body to his.
Ellie’s field of vision narrowed until she saw nothing but his eyes, searing amethyst, piercing her senses, her consciousness, then deeper. She felt her soul stir in response. A restless disquiet, a yearning... for something more than physical, something more than emotional. Her breath rasped down her dry throat on a ragged inward moan.
He gave a low, deep-chested growl, the warning purr of a stalking tairen, and invisible hands, hot and hard, cupped her through her dress. Invisible lips, firm and silky, tracked a burning path down her neck.
Her pulse thundered in her ears. Her eyes closed on a swell of unbearable pleasure. Her head tipped back, and real hands reached out to grasp her waist and bring her hard against his chest. Real lips devoured the too sensitive skin of her neck, dragging up, teeth grazing the curve of her jaw. His mouth claimed hers in a hot, demanding, erotic kiss.
In her mind’s eye, she saw the tairen. Magnificent, sleek, as black as death itself. Its eyes were burning lavender fire, its fangs white, sharp, deadly, bared in a snarl of feral wildness that had slipped its leash. It leapt towards her, massive wings unfurled, gigantic paws outstretched. So beautiful. So wild. So terrifying. White, sharp, curving claws dug into her flesh, holding her fast. The tairen screamed with hunger and dragged her close.
With a small choked cry, she tore her lips from Rain’s and pushed against his shoulders.
Rain’s empty hands curled slowly into fists that shook with visible effort as he once more caged the wildness within him. He groaned, closed his eyes, and banged the back of his head against the coach wall.
“Sieks’ta,” he apologized, his eyes still closed. There was a fine sheen of perspiration on his face, the first she’d ever seen, a testament to the force he was extending to keep himself in check. “When you reach out to me, I lose all reason. The tairen is hungry for its mate. As, gods help me, am I.”
“It was my fault,” she told him, shivering as she tried to recover her composure and still her racing heartbeat. “I started it.”
“Aiyah, you did. Which gives me hope at least.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “But I should know by now that I must go slowly with you. Your ways are not ours, and you are still so young. I will do better the next time, Ellysetta. I do not wish to frighten you.”
“It’s all right.” She didn’t deny that he had frightened her. She knew he had felt it.
“Nei.” He gave a slight, hoarse laugh. “When you accept the bond, it will be all right.” His eyes opened, pinned her with glowing intensity. “Until then, it is quite the opposite.”
She bit her lip, feeling miserable. She could feel his pain and the sharp edge of temper he was struggling not to release. “I’m sorry.”
