“His mother died in childbirth, and he was given to the fae,” Garrick said. His voice was quiet, private, as if even in this tiny, enclosed space, what he spoke of was special. It belonged to him.Alairbelonged to him. And now he was sharing him with me.
Clearing my brain enough to think was difficult. The block of ice that I’d formed in my chest to protect me from my own feelings was melting, peeling off in little curls of sparkling steam that fogged my mind. But Garrick was in his thirties. If he’d known this Alair and had been of an age to fall in love with him, that narrowed the scope of my memories.
A woman formed in my mind. She was a distant relation of Kyna, Kyrelle’s mother, separated by many branches of the family tree. Her elder sister had married well and taken a ship across the sea. But the younger sister had remained behind, waiting for her own happily ever after. Until…
“They told me the child died, as well,” I said, my throat tight at the memory. With her death, only Kyna had remained. Except that was a lie. They had lied to me. Some fae monster had not only sired a child upon my sister’s line, but he’d stolen her child. And then the fae king had murdered him. I had failed. The warmth from Garrick’s hand was not enough. My entire body threatened to turn into solid ice.
Every part of me hurt. “I should have protected him.”
“Ishould have protected him,” Garrick said. I recognized the pain in his voice. It was as deep as my own.
His fingers flexed around mine. Still, through this entire conversation, it was the only place we touched. I knelt at his side, balanced on my knees with my bottom resting on my heels, gripping the bow between us. Garrick’s back was pressed againstthe tumbleddown wall, one leg extended, the other bent at the knee.
He’d been so careful not to touch me, but I could not hold back anymore. I needed Garrick’s arms around me. I needed his hard, warm body to provide a shelter for my cold, soft one.
“Can I hold you?” Garrick asked softly.
He knew me as well as I knew myself. Better, maybe. It scared me. But it was also such a relief. He knew me, and he was still here, fighting for a place at my side. I no longer had the will to deny him.
“Yes.” I barely got the word out around the sob in my chest.
The space between us disappeared in an instant. Garrick hooked his free arm beneath my knees, pulling me into his lap. I maneuvered the bow alongside us, although I was not ready to let it go. It was the last piece I had of him, Alair. The only piece I would ever have, because I had failed him. I’d vowed to protect my sister’s line, and I had failed. I’d failed, and I hurt Garrick in the process. I was the one responsible for his pain, for this loss. If I’d protected Alair, Garrick would not have to hurt like this.
“No,” Garrick murmured against my throat. “No, no, no, no, no. You are not to blame.”
I did not realize I’d spoken aloud.
Garrick pressed his lips to my neck, then inhaled deeply where my hair met the back of my neck. I could not handle the unspeakable tenderness. Another sob broke free, and then another, followed by tears. So many tears. I did not have the control to freeze them to prevent them from falling. There was no need. Garrick was there, kissing them away, covering my cheeks with his mouth, murmuring words I could not even make out but that reached deep into my soul, nonetheless.
One hand still clutched the bow. But I freed my other because I needed to touch him, desperately. Garrick did not resist me; he busied the newly unoccupied hand with gripping my thigh,massaging it through the thick fabric of my velvet gown. I slid my hand up his chest, over his shoulder, down his bicep. They were not light, skittering touches. I needed to feel him, strong and true, beneath my hands. Even as I did, as I fed on his strength, I felt the shake of his shoulders. His face was still buried in my hair, but I did not need to see it to know that tears slid down his cheeks that matched my own.
I doubted that anyone had ever seen Garrick the Red cry. The intimacy and honor of it made my chest heave with pain once more.
This was grief.
Together, we grieved for Alair, the man we’d both lost. We cried for our failures, for the separation between us. For each other. It was a grief so primal it needed no words. One that had lived inside of me, untouched and unhonored, for hundreds of years.
I’d never had anyone to share it with.
Neither of us tried to quiet the other. We sank into it, letting the waves of emotion take us far out into the sea. As long as we were together, we could not drown.
Garrick kissed my face and my neck, small touches that left a trail of warmth where before there was only ice. I just kept touching him, letting myself feel the planes of his body that I’d only imagined.
I could not stay away from him, any more than I could the Dark God. Garrick was a part of me, too, and it went much deeper than the Lifebind. I loved Garrick the Red. I would love him for this life and the one to follow. The Dark God would have to accept that in the same way that Garrick had accepted him.
There was no pinpointing the moment that it changed.
One moment, the kisses that Garrick pressed to my cheeks and neck were gentle. But then one of them lingered, his tongue swiping over my skin. I shifted against him, heat spiraling low inmy belly and reaching down towards my core. He lifted his hips in answer, his cock hardening beneath me. My touches on his shoulders tightened more, my fingernails dragging against the embroidered quilting of his dark gray surcoat.
He slid his tongue along the column of my throat, and I hissed between my teeth. I answered by sucking his earlobe into my mouth and nipping at the soft flesh. Garrick croaked low in his throat, his entire body jerking.
“Witch,” he groaned in warning.
Whatever he was trying to warn me about, I did not want to hear it.
I slid my fingers up to cup his face so that he could not turn away from me as I feasted on his mouth. Wine and cinnamon met me, heady and rich. He tasted like coming home. Dark God spare me, I had missed him.
I shivered, but Garrick’s hands were already sliding up my back, pulling me tighter against him. I sank into his warmth, pressing my breasts against his chest. There were too many clothes between us, layers and layers of linen and velvet and wool. There always were in this frigid land.
