A somber feeling swamped her, weighing down on her.
Warily, she glanced around, then up at the hollowed trees with their entwined spindly limbs, seeming to house a thousand screaming souls.
“What is this place?” she asked in a hushed voice.
“Na’Tol. Our sacred Rean Forest thrived here a long time ago. It’s something that should have been revered, but the civil wars destroyed most of it…” His grim stare drifted over the looming tangle of limbs around them.
“War is careless and cruel to the innocent.” Leya gently trailed her fingers along a shriveled trunk—
A streak of darkness and eerie melancholy shot through her. She yanked back her hand and clenched her fingers, heart pounding. “But it’s all still so…black?”
“With all the lives lost here, fitting, don’t you think? Since they were white once.”
She ignored his acerbic comment. “But why would anyone target a forest?”
“To hurt us. We have a symbiotic connection with these trees. The Reans are vital to maintaining the balance of what remains of our magic. Without the scared trees, our world fades faster…” His flat stare stayed on the withered trunk she touched a moment ago.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Not your fault.”
The urge to chase away the hurt and anger in his expression took hold.
Oh, boy.Inhaling a deep gulp of air tinged with the odor of decay, and needing distance from him and from whatever these feelings clamoring within her were, she removed her hand from his—
Wet heat blasted her, instantly dampening her face and body. She gasped, so sure she’d fallen into a sauna. Hastily, Leya unfastened her parka. “How odd. I wasn’t this hot a moment ago.”
“My abilities,” he drawled, watching her undress. “I can control body temperature. Mine, yours. Whomever I touch.”
Ohhh.That would explain why he kept hold of her hand despite his anger.
“The rebel, too,” she muttered, a little deflated. She removed the thick coat, then fought off the sweater, and caught his sharp look.
“I mean, the rebel did something similar…” She shoved up the long sleeves of the navy t-shirt and fanned her damp face with her hand. “After tying me to the steel ring in the cave, I was shivering and growing numb from the cold. He said he didn’t want me dying until I served my purpose. Then he licked my neck, and the cold dissipated.”
Aerén’s expression morphed to granite, his tone matching. “A lick wasn’t necessary. Thecuzzon. Skin contact, however, is required. If you need relief, hold my hand.”
Like they were a couple?
This was just wet heat, not the biting cold of Dregarus that required hand-holding.
Perspiration beaded her from head to toe. Man, from one end of the weather spectrum to the other. But she’d live.
“I’m fine, thanks. So it’s summer here?” She clamped the bundle of clothes under one arm, then lifted her tee to fan herself with the hem.
His gaze lowered to her stomach. A tic worked his jaw, but then he glanced away.
“If you want the specifics, then yes.” He started walking through the eerie black trees, and she followed, a pit forming deep within her. It wasn’t as if she’d set out to entice him by flashing her belly.
“There’s no spring like what humans enjoy, just months of uncomfortable summer, then a week-long quiet of coolness or autumn, followed by a brutal winter before the cycle starts again.”
She wiped her dripping brow with the back of her hand, wilting under the weight of the humidity.
“Come, we must get out of here before nightfall.” He sped up.
“Rebels?” She hurried to keep pace with him.
“It’s not them we need to worry about, but the spirits of the dead.”
