“What was it of?”
“A meadow,” I told him. “The sky was so big and pink. The hills were rolling with wildflowers. I wanted to create places like that in my mind. So I copied that painting…hundredsof times. Then I practiced and practiced more. I began to draw Kavelyn, of alien places she would go to in the stories. Of people she met. The children loved the drawings more than the stories sometimes.”
“I haven’t seen you with your notebook in a while,” Kaldur commented.
I tried not to let my worry show when I said, “I’ve, um, been feeling a little lost lately. I don’t feel like creating anymore. Or, at least, not right now.”
I saw the brief flit of dismay over his face.
Then…
Kaldur leaned forward, his hand cupping my cheek. It happened quickly yet slowly. The soft press of his lips against mine.
It wasn’t meant to be sexual. It felt more like an embrace, a comfort, and I sighed into his lips. He kissed me again, brushing his bottom lip against my top one, and then again, this time across my cheek. His next kiss was on my nose, the next on my forehead, and then hewasembracing me.
“I know you’ll find it again,” he told me, soft determination in his voice.
I allowed myself to sink into it, to enjoy his warmth even as my heart fluttered wildly. I didn’t have it in me to fight, and I remembered what I’d realized. Everything wasmychoice, whatever I chose to give to him.
And right then? He gave me his comfort, and I gave him mine right back.
There was another comfort I could give him too.
“I’m worried about you,” I confessed softly, feeling his steady heart thump against my breast.
“Me? Why?” he rasped.
“You need to feed,” I said. “I can see what it’s doing to you.”
Kaldur pulled back. His eyes flitted back and forth between mine. “This moment isn’t about that.”
“So you don’t deny it?” I asked. “You’ve been growing weaker because you won’t come to me to feed. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
“I didn’t think you wanted it,” he said.
I held up my wrist between us. “I think you need to. It’s been too long.”
Kaldur’s gaze went down my wrist, his expression exploding with want and hunger. He breathed in deeply.
“Please,” I whispered.
“Do you pity me,dallia?” he asked, his voice guttural. He forced his eyes away from my wrist, and I saw his eyes were darker—a deep gray that was almost black. He shook his head, a brief smile flitting across his features. “No, I’m not to be pitied. And that’s what this would be.”
“It’s not—” I started to argue, frowning, but then he stood.
He turned from me briefly, and I stared at his back. When he faced me again, the hunger had faded from his expression, though the lines around his mouth seemed tight.
“Let’s return to the keep,” he suggested. “It’s getting cold.”
He helped me stand, as if I was a day away from giving birth. But our interaction still bothered me, and I couldn’t put my finger on why.
A pity feeding? That had nothing to do with this.
“You said you won’t feed from anyone else. That leaves just me, Kaldur. I don’t pity you. I just don’t want you to suffer needlessly. You’rehungry—I can see it. Despite what happened between us…it doesn’t mean I don’t care about you,” I told him.
“Care?” he repeated gently, tipping my chin up, his thumb brushing underneath my jaw. Then he leaned forward, pressing his lips there in another small kiss, as if to say he wasn’t stung bythe interaction. That it was okay. “I think I had your entire heart once, didn’t I?”
That same heart thudded in my chest as my lips parted. I felt those whispered words against my skin and nearly closed my eyes as the answer flitted through my mind.
