We pause at one of the torches we set today, one whose flame is dying. “Fulmanesh,” Finn whispers, and the flame flares back to life.
I should’ve harnessed the power of fire magick. I could’ve simplyburnedmy way to Winterhold.
Finn draws me close, and after a stiff moment or two, I relax in his arms. We begin moving in the ways of our people, bodies arching andswaying in time, softly at first, but Finn’s movements quickly become more dominant. He spins me around, my back against his chest, reveling in the music and cool night air as he moves me away from the light and into the shadows.
Taking a stardrop from my hair, he trails the white petals over the delicate lace trim sewn across my bodice’s neckline, before grazing the soft flower over the exposed swells of my breasts. “You look stunning, Raina.”
My breaths come faster, and gooseflesh rises across my skin as Finn slides his hand lower, down my bodice, pausing beneath my navel, making my pulse speed up. With a firm press, he tucks me against him, molding his hard body to mine.
Something inside me curls like a question needing an answer—something that shouldn’t be affected by Finn Owyn at all. Not anymore. We haven’t been intimate in so long. But the sultry tone of his voice at my ear is so familiar, as is the way his fingers rub small circles mere inches above a part of my anatomy he has learned well over the years.
Another chill rises when his breath rushes hot across my neck, and his hands slide down over my hips.
“So beautiful,” he whispers, dragging a hungry kiss over my pulse. Those powerful fingers dig into my flesh; I can feel their strength through the fabric of my skirts. “Gods, I’ve missed you,” he says, gripping me tight. “All of you. Let me take you to the forge and show you how much. Let me use my body to say I’m sorry for today. For every day I’ve spent without you.”
Emotion rises inside me, and tears prick the backs of my eyes. I slip my hand over his stubbled jaw, threading my fingers into his thick hair.
The sensual slide of his tongue across my throat almost undoes me. Ialmostdraw him even closer.Almosturge him on. It would be so easy.
But from somewhere deep inside Frostwater Wood, a white wolf lets out an echoing howl, like a signal for the celebration to truly begin. As the crowd comes alive, I pull away from Finn and kick off my shoes.
Much to my surprise, he locks those dark eyes on me and follows suit, and soon our dancing becomes something more. The musicchanges from strumming strings to softly pounding drums, and the revelry gives way to ceremony.
Hel, Emmitt, and several other Witch Walkers join in. The shift in every mind reverberates through me, instinct taking over, our bodies flowing in a circle around the fire. For the first time in so long, I feel free.
I close my eyes and will my dance to keep time with the drums, with the internal heartbeat of the earth as I sway and spin, reaching toward the stars to call down the moon. Finn glides against me. I’d be lying if I said the contact didn’t make my heart race, my blood heat.
Here, beneath the moon, with the pounding rhythm of life beating in my veins, the world falls away, any thought of the Witch Collector along with it. Through ritual, we witches are connected: conduits between the Ancient Ones whose power radiates through the soil into the bare soles of our feet, and the deities in the heavens who shine down upon us. For a time, that’s all I feel. There’s no Finn. No desire. No anxiety. No cold.
Nothing. Just connection.
It doesn’t last, though. From beyond my consciousness, worry drips a tingle down my spine, luring me back to the here and now. A smell floats on the wind—familiar and cloying.
Blinking at the stars, I dance harder, trying to reconnect, refusing to let anything poison this moment. It’ll all end soon enough, and I may never experience this again.
On the edge of my vision, Hel draws Emmitt into a kiss, then leads him toward the darkness to the east. The pair disappears into the shadows, hand in hand.
Live.The word forms in my mind, but I send it across the village to my friend. Maybe one of us will find the kind of peace that stays tonight.
Finally, reality dims once more, until I’m so close to deep connection that I see nothing but a kaleidoscope of colors and light, feel nothing but power and Finn’s touch and…
…a strange warmth radiating down my outer thigh.
Finn’s hands are everywhere, but then he’s discreetly gathering and lifting my skirts between us, his fingertips tickling the back of my thigh, drifting, drifting,drifting?—
The connection snaps, the heat vanishes, and Finn lets go. For a moment, it’s like I’m falling, coming down from a high I’d forgotten existed.
Then I sense it—the absence. The source of the heat I’d felt is gone.
I spin around, only to find Finn slipping into the crowd.
With. My. Knife.
He glances over his shoulder. A smirk curls one side of his mouth as he flashes the white granite hilt of the blade now hidden in his jacket pocket.
Come and get it,he mouths. Then he runs toward the orchards, vanishing in a mass of villagers.
I ball my hands into fists. Damn, that man! This isnotthe time for games.
