“Me, too.”
An unexpected pang pulled at her as she walked out, and her stomach dipped. Hers and Aerén’s paths would never cross again once he took her back home. He’d be too busy looking for the women who bore the half-moon mark, to think about her at all.
* * *
The flurry of snowflakes continued its airy dance in the dead-cold night, settling on the white blanket covering every inch of the frozen world, but the icy air did little to cool him down. Not by a flicker of his eyelid did Aerén reveal his discomfort, the fever, or his agitating power hammering at his skull.
He zipped his jacket, and Leya’s scent on the leather imprinted all over him, playing with his mind. It took every bit of his willpower not to march right in and get her.
Sebris moved to the edge of the shadowy porch and stared out at the bleak landscape. Taegér parked against the doorjamb like a damn sentry, eyeing him with a smirk before glancing inside again with avid interest.
Clenched hands shoved in his pockets so he wouldn’t KO the bastard who’d had a hand in saving them—or maybe he would, if he didn’t stop his ogling—Aerén focused on the desolate white lands with no trees or shrubs in sight.
But the nagging sensation within continued to grow. Especially with Sebris’ calm acceptance of Aerén in his fortress and having his healer attempt to aid him after their lifelong enmity. A strange display of hospitality, considering Aerén wanted to kill the warlord every time their paths crossed; in the past, he’d laid the fault of their dying world on Sebris, what with all the wars he started.
“I’m surprised you didn’t take my head, considering I was out cold,” he drawled.
The warlord didn’t turn. “Give me a reason, and I will.”
Hell, his damn headache must be playing havoc with his hearing, because that didn’t sound like a threat, mere words with no bite.
“Like my mate pointed out,” Sebris’ pale stare swept back to Aerén, “we should work together to heal our realm, which means getting all the magic back here, whether in Dregarus or the rest of Empyrea, as long as it’s somewhere in our world. So, Leya’s another Chosen, I assume?”
Aerén shrugged, not revealing what a disasterthatturned out to be. “She has some psychic ability, so we’ll see. But I have to get her back to Earth. We cannot risk having her reported missing by her family, if they haven’t already, especially with the portals screwing with time and causing vast time leaps.” It was going to be a damn mess, probably requiring memory wipes. “If those Guardians of Earth hear of this, we’ll be barred from entering again.”
“Maybe I can help there.” Sebris glanced up at the night sky, at the heavy dark clouds seeming to wait for the perfect moment to unleash their wrath upon the desolate lands. “Not about the Guardians but going to Earth. We have a portal that could take her back to Earth on the same day she left, give or take a few hours. However, it’s only accessible at noon or midnight. The anomaly lasts for a minute.”
Aerén stilled, then his brain rebooted fast. “The Stones of Light.”
“Most likely. This variance appeared a few years ago. We didn’t care much about it back then, but now it aids me when Brenna wants to visit her family and friends. However, it only works from this side to Earth.”
Aerén folded his arm over his chest, still unconvinced of this male’s sincerity. “Yes, we need to keep negativity out of Empyrea, but why are you suddenly helpful, considering we usually want to kill each other?”
“Indeed…” Sebris’ attention shifted back to the endless snowy wildness. “Empyrea is what matters now,” he murmured. “Winter is a narcissistic mistress. She cares little for anything except the destruction her beauty causes, but I learned how to surpass her temper. Dregarus is in my blood, and I will do whatever I must to see all of Empyrea restored.”
Did Brenna seriously calm this ruthless male?
His current behavior didn’t fit with the brutal warlord he’d grown up hearing about, who’d killed many in his quest for power. Yes, it was a long time ago, but still… Aerén frowned. Were those eons-long wars more about seeking a better circumstance for his people, rather than taking over all of Empyrea?
He drummed his fingers against his thigh, studying the male, a sense of familiarity washing over him…then he shook his head. His injury must have him hallucinating.
Since no blood was being spilled, might as well find out about his family, too. “My parents, have you heard anything about them?”
“No. But I have some of my enforcers working on tracking them. Empyrea needs its reigning monarchs. If I hear anything, I’ll send a message. Just don’t kill my warriors.”
Vae, being here threw his entire perception—hell, his damn mind—off-kilter.
He needed to Ground, shed some of the damn power buildup. Maybe then things would start making sense, from why their deadly lifelong nemesis was suddenly being reasonable, to his unexpected attraction to a woman he couldn’t even take back to Cidéra.
The porch orbs brightened, and the door opened wider.
Taegér moved aside, and Leya stepped outside into the swirling snow, swathed in a thick coat, a splash of cheerful red color in the dark, icy place. She hastily pulled the fur-lined hood over her head and smiled at Taegér. The single dimple in her cheek lit up her pretty features, causing Taegér to stare.
Aerén gritted his teeth and fought off a scowl.
When her warm, amber-flecked brown eyes met his, it felt as if the sun shone through in the icy night, warming him. Even the immense pain from his wound didn’t rub him raw.
“Ready?” He reached for her hand, and just holding her, a calm descended over him. It didn’t stop his churning powers, but it had him refocusing. He let his heat seep into her. Her brow furrowed, likely feeling the transference of warmth. She nodded, then faced Sebris. “Thank you for letting us stay here.”
