I can’t do to her what Ash has done to his woman. Because with older ones like me, maybe the last of my kind, what I stand to awaken may not come solely from the mountains. It could come from the stars.
The thought shivers through me.
Still, I stay, spying from a distance. Hidden in shadow and mist, memorizing the only woman my flesh ever begged to cleave to.
I jam my knuckles into the saddle horn, using pain to regulate hunger. Without the dampener, it’s the only way. There is no alternative like Ash. There’s only staying and dying. Or worse, causing her more torment.
The swirl of her glossy locks, like a halo, in the breeze. Her heart-shaped face, cleft chin, and cinnamon freckles. Her thick pink lips that should be smiling.Would be—like sunshine piercing dark clouds—if it weren’t for me.
After the wedding party departs, she remains. My throat thickens. Tempest grows restless beneath me.
I could go to her. No one would know.
But the mountains would.
She walks among the petroglyphs, searching. Her hand grazes over one of the symbols.
I don’t breathe, waiting, watching what comes next. She pauses for a moment, skirt and hair whipping in the wind.
“You need to go inside, Eliza,” I scold under my breath. “Shield yourself from this. From me.”
The ache behind my chest is unbearable. Dark, rain-filled clouds threaten. I’m one look away from riding down there, sweeping her into my arms and racing away.
“All you have to do is look up, Eliza. Show youfeelme.”
But her eyes no longer scan the treeline. Instead, she steps carefully among the rocks, searching for something.
For what?
She leans forward, pressing her palm to another stone. My flesh jumps. One symbol rushes through me—my name glyph.
God.
I clutch my chest, trying to hold back. Breathing through my nose and counting. In and out. Willing myself to have half the willpower of Mags or Ash.
Because if I take her now, I’ll never let her go. She won’t have a choice.
And I can’t be to her, what my father was to my mother.
Her body straightens, eyes wide, and she looks down at her hand. Then touches it again.
I grunt through the yearning, squeezing my eyes tight.
Never. I will never be likehim.
The smell of burning flesh fills my nostrils. I grip my shoulder, fingers digging deep. She’s incinerating me and doesn’t even know it.
The dampener.
Suppression is the only way.
I barely form the thought before she wheels around, hurrying away, face turned toward angry rain clouds and the ranch house. Never looking back. Never looking at me.
My breath goes ragged. I have my answer. Tempest stamps her front hooves, hide twitching beneath me.
I lean forward, breathing hard and resting my head against her mane. Sucking in great gulps of air, I fight the anguish and sorrow surging through me. Worse than any snakebite or bullet wound.
And completely unnatural to my kind.
