“Has Surath told you more about his suffering?”
Zogar’s hand slides down my back. “You should ask Saxon these questions.
Surath and Saxon soar over our heads, and my heart lifts up to join them. As she descends, they circle the valley three times, and I race toward the spot she chooses to land.
Saxon’s gold and chestnut hair doesn’t shine or flow behind him like I remember, and his facial hair has grown, but those are the only indications of his ordeal from this distance. Surath digs in her wing at a very gentle angle, and Saxon slides down to dismount.
Saxon’s face beams as I run toward him. Miraculously, he strides toward me, looking steadier and stronger than I could have imagined. Our bodies crash together, and in each other’s arms, my breaths come so quickly it’s like I’ve run for hours at top speed. I press my cheek against his chest, inhaling his scent, the wind and forest aroma of him now tinged with dampness and rot.
Remembering his potential injuries, I loosen my hold and look up into his eyes, finding them glassy with tears.
“Did I hurt you?” I ask. “You’re crying.”
A broad smile overtakes his expression. “You’re the one who’s crying. And no, you didn’t hurt me one bit.”
Salt hits my lips, and I realize that he’s right. His hands thread into my hair and he gently licks my tears away, first from my cheeks, then my lips, and then he kisses me tenderly.
I rise onto my toes hoping to deepen the kiss, but he pulls back.
“Iamhurting you.” I look into his eyes for evidence of the pain he’s too proud to admit.
“No, ma chérie.” His fingers stroke my scalp. “But I require some water. Both to drink and to bathe. Once I’m clean, I’ll embrace you properly.” Heat tinges the golden specks in his beautiful but tired brown eyes, and he takes a couple of steps back from me. “Surath told me there’s a stream in these woods. I’ll return to you soon.”
He strides away from me, and it takes every ounce of my energy to keep from running after him. But I’m suddenly very aware of Zogar’s potent presence. I wish he’d been clearer about how our marriage has changed. I have no idea if he’ll be deeply hurt—or furious—if I continue my relationship with Saxon. Zogar must know that I want this. It’s difficult to imagine that my desires haven’t been clear in my thoughts as I rode him.
Zogar’s arm, heavy and strong, slides over my shoulders, and my racing heart immediately starts to calm. “Go to him, my love.”
I look up into his eyes to be sure that I heard him right.
“Saxon needs you. I’ll await your return.” He bends to press a kiss against the top of my head, and my heart fills with joy.
What have I ever done to deserve such a man, one who’s willing to care about Saxon’s needs and my desire to help him, putting both of us above his clearly possessive feelings.
“Thank you.” I smile up at my husband.
He nods, and his arm slides off my shoulders. “Go. Be with him.” He takes a few steps back, the gesture and words giving me further permission to be with Saxon—toreallybe with him. I hope.
I want to clarify Zogar’s meaning, but I’m too impatient and don’t want to risk the chance that he’ll ask me not to allow anything sexual to happen.
I fight the urge to run into the woods. I don’t want to seem too eager, lest I hurt Zogar’s feelings further. But as soon as I find the path, I move quickly through the woods, looking for evidence of Saxon and wanting to get to him as quickly as possible.
I reach the stream before catching any sight of him, and then glance in both directions, trying to pick one. When I was here with Surath, she speculated that there might be a waterfall at the point where the woods meet the edge of the mountain, so I head that direction. She might have shared that information with Saxon as they flew.
One way or another, I’ll find him.
Dashing along the edge of the stream, I leap over rocks and duck under branches that extend out of from woods. The gurgling sound of water turns into a rush that keeps me from hearing any signs of Saxon.
Turning around a bend in the stream, I stop and gasp. There is indeed a waterfall ahead, one that falls in stages from high above, and the final section of falling water splashes into a bright pool.
A large, beautiful stag is swimming through the water, his head turned toward me. The stag is still some distance away, but Iknow that it’s Saxon. Mostly because of how intently his eyes are focused on me.
Saxon can shift on this side of the veil, which answers one of the many questions I have without my having to ask it. He drops under the water. Even the very tips of his antlers disappear.
I break into a run, panicked, my full body remembering what happened to Zogar in the water. Do stag shifters also have heavy bones? The longer he remains submerged, the higher my fear rises. Even the bubbles and ripples have disbursed.
I’m about twenty hand-spans away, trying to judge how close I need to be to dive into the pool without breaking my neck on the rocky edge.
Saxon’s head emerges. His human head.
