At my confused look, he clarifies, “There is no color in the Lunaedon, because everything I touch blackens and dies, and I couldn’t live somewhere I was constantly reminded of my destruction. So there are no plants, no color…nothing living for me to inadvertently ruin.”
He slides his hand beneath the water, skimming his fingers along my thigh before pulling me into his lap. “You are the only beautiful thing I’ve allowed myself since my return,” Niko murmurs. “Thatis why I said I would be pathetic to want you, Willa. I knew well enough what happens when I do—and I wanted you anyway.”
He winds my legs around his waist, settling me against him. I thought I was filled, but it is nothing to what spills from my heart now, as he continues, “Fiercely. Desperately. And without reprieve.”
Niko drops my gaze to lather shampoo between his palms. And then, with a tenderness that steals my breath entirely, he begins to massage my scalp.
Tears spring to my eyes, and my throat squeezes closed at his touch, his words. Now I understand why Niko was so affected by my care of him. It’s been so long since anyone has taken care of me, that I can hardly stand to allow it—hardly stand how wonderful it feels, lest it be stolen from me. And Niko—taken from his parents and thrust into a world of brutality—has probablyneverbeen taken care of.
I don’t know which is worse: never having someone who loved you or having it and losing it.
Niko watches as I shiver in his arms, warm pleasure rolling from the top of my head, down my chest, and through the rest of my body. For the first time in two centuries, my heart is settled where it is. There is no rage palpitating through me, no fear urging me to keep moving. Content to be still. To beseen.
I’m safe with him. And I only want to be exactly where I am.
Niko rinses my hair clean, and then pours some of my favorite scented soap onto a cloth. He runs it softly over my throat and then down my shoulders. Over my collarbones and breasts, and then sweeping over my stomach. He washes me carefully, with such tender attention, another lump of emotion lodges thickly in my throat, along with a modicum of fear. Fear that Iwantto stay in Letum, so long as Niko wants me here.
If he is an anchor, I want to be anchored too.
I thought it was only his power and his obsession I craved. But the way he cares for me is neither of those things, and I want it far more. Something soft—something I was terrified of ever letting myself have. A piece of him, a ribbon much like his power, tethered in my chest. Irreversible. Enduring.
And what a terrible thing to hold something so vulnerable. A fragile part for the world to tear apart.
“Niko,” I say breathlessly, his name a plea and a prayer.Let me go before I fall too far to save myself.The words sound in my mind, their rhythm winding along another, more tender thought:Don’t ever let me go. Keep me forever.
His death shudders in the air around him at the sound of his name, darting toward me. He winces as he tries to shake the ribbons away, to keep them from touching me out of habit ofhaving to shield those around him from his magic. But my fear of pain is no longer so sharp. Not when it’s now his to hold.
I reach up and brush a gentle fingertip over the nearest ribbon. Just like on the beach when I felt the ribbons’ sentience, I feel it now. Brutal iciness, cruel dark. Cool relief, and gentle night.
Niko’s eyes widen in wonder, in fear, but for once, he doesn’t try to protect me from himself.
Because the ribbons, the death—terrible and beautiful—it’s all a part of him.
And I want every part.
Chapter thirty-four
“I’ve been looking for you.”
Marina glances up from where she’s tucked herself against a tree. She doesn’t bother with a greeting, only watches as I take a seat beside her, curling my legs beneath me. Her eyes are red-rimmed with exhaustion, and large swathes of her golden hair have come free of the tight bun she wears for battle.
She pulls a tattered cloak tighter around herself, like she can disappear within its folds.
I nudge her shoulder playfully with mine. “You look like shit.”
Better than you,she replies with a wry grin.
“I always look exquisite,” I reply, running a hand over my black silk shirt. “You, on the other hand, are in the same clothes you wore three days ago and have blood in your hair.”
You really know how to flatter a female.
“Considering the violence with which the women in my life respond to flattery, it’s purely a measure of self-preservation.”
Marina snorts half-heartedly.
I glance at her sidelong, examining her for a long moment. Marina’s been by my side for over two hundred years, and by now, her mannerisms are almost as familiar to me as my own. That she’s come here, to the edge of the pixie refugee camp, doesn’t mean anything good.
When the Aeternalis and his Strayed first took over the Hollows—the caves on the south edge of the island whose sacred depths housed the dust created by children’s dreams—Marina had been the driving force behind his success. Her kind have never forgiven her for the betrayal. The only one willing to give her a chance is Chrys, and now, because of me, Marina’s one tie to her own people has been broken. Again.
