And then, I suppose, it would have me climb into the bed. Nap the day away? Press myself closer to him in my sleep? Reach for him in my dreams?
Allow my lips to touch his and see what sensations come over me?
I will not be doing that. Not right now.
It must be my prolonged loneliness that’s making me think this way. With such temptation and curiosity.
Ryker’s handsome, powerful, and strong. Much stronger than a mortal man.
Above all, he is trustworthy. He has stayed in my cottage for an entire night, longer than anyone has in years, and he has not made a single move to assert dominance over me.
Although that very thought sparks a different kind of want. One I shove to the back of my mind.
Shoulders back, I return to one of the shelves by my worktable and find my worn, beloved tarot cards.
The cards are soft and pliable from having been shuffled between palms hundreds and hundreds of times. As I gently let them slide against one another, I center my mind on them. On the smooth, slippery feel of the cardstock. On the wisdom they hold. On the answers I’m seeking.
I meditate on the events of the past day.
What change in the world around me brought on the storm? Did that force also inspire the pull I feel toward Ryker? I think of him most of all, dwelling on how open his expression is when he’s sleeping and the long frame of his body on my bed and the sound of his breathing.
I need these things to be clearly communicated to the cards, so I pace quietly around the cottage, turning all of it over in my mind—but especially Ryker. The soft sound of his steps. The light grumble in his throat when he contemplates. The sharpness of his eyes as our glances catch one another. The little details that make him who he is, that’s what I focus on as I hold the cards and absently shuffle them.
Every time I make another circuit of the room, I cannot help letting my gaze linger on him.
The afternoon light from outside caresses his skin as if it wants to touch him as much as I do. He sleeps as if he is sure of his safety here, deep within the peace of the spell I put on him. He’s turned over onto his back and flung out both arms, taking all the space he can on the bed.
Surely I would only fit if he were holding me.
With the thought shocking me to my core, I return to the cards.
What brought you here? I ask, not of him, but of the cards and the moons. There’s a simple answer to this question, but I already know it. I want the cards to show me the hidden reasons that Ryker—who is not from this land and was sent here by his commander—truly came here. Why did fate send him here? Why truly, with the meaning of life and purpose has this man come to my door?
When the cards are sated from shuffling and warm in my hands, I sit down at my worktable and clear a space. I keep Ryker at the forefront of my mind, held in concentration, asking the cards over and over to respond to him. To show me the inner truth of the most beautiful man who has ever crossed my threshold.
Open my eyes, I request of the cards. Show me the things I cannot know. Help me to understand the will of the fates.
One by one, I draw four cards and lay them out on the table.
The first card is the Two of Cups.
The second card is the Lovers.
The third card is the King of Pentacles.
The fourth card is the Queen of Pentacles.
I look at the cards in their neat spread before me, my heart racing.
The lovers on its own would have given me a shock, but along with the King and Queen of Pentacles? What could the cards be referring to if not me and Ryker?
But we are not lovers.
“We are not,” I tell the cards in a breathless whisper as my heart races. Even the Two of Cups echoes the message of the Lovers card. My questions catch in the back of my throat. This desire I feel, it is not temporary. This shifter is for me. But shifters have mates. Surely, I cannot be his lover.
The cards stare back up at me. They could represent the future or the past as well. Perhaps another lifetime. A star-crossed lover maybe?
The King and Queen of Pentacles together represent…
