The words come out beforeIcan stop them and her eyes lift to mine.Fora second neither of us says anything butIknow what we’re both thinking.Thering represents the past and the present because that’s all we have.
There’s never going to be any future for us.There’sjust tonight and tomorrow and that’s it.We’llforget each other completely and go our separate ways and never even meet.
The thought hits me so hardIcan barely breathe butItry not to show the sorrowI’mfeeling on my face.
At last,Elowennods.
“All right,” she whispers.“Forthe past and the present.”
I take the ring from the merchant and turn to her fully.Myfingers are not entirely steady asIlift her hand.
Her skin is warm and so damn soft.Islide the ring onto her finger slowly, watching the blue and green stones catch the lantern-light.
“Mine,”myDrakesays instantly.“Yougave her jewelry—you claimed her—-she’sMINE.”
Not true—Ionly gave her a ring so no one else would insult her,Ianswer back, but the denial has no force in it at all.
Elowen looks down at the ring, then back up at me.Atentative smile touches her face.
“Thank you,Theron—it’s beautiful,” she murmurs.
Something in her face undoes me.BeforeIcan think better of it,Icup her face in one hand and kiss her, long and slow.
The market noise fades around us.Themusic, the vendors, the crowd—everything disappears until there is only her mouth beneath mine and the soft sound she makes whenIdeepen the kiss.
WhenIfinally pull back, her cheeks are flushed, and her green eyes are bright.
I take her hand again, threading our fingers together carefully soIdon’t disturb the new ring.
ThenIlead her deeper into the city, not letting go.
61
ELOWEN
I thinkI’veforgotten how to breathe.
Or maybe not—I’mbreathing, after all—but every inhale feels too full, too heavy, likeI’mtaking in more than just air.
I canfeelTheronnow andIdon’t mean him walking beside me with his broad shoulder brushing mine and his long fingers entwined with my own.
I meanIcan feelhim—his emotions, the same wayIcan feel hisDrake’sfeelings when heShifts.
I can’t explain it—it’s like something inside me has opened—like a doorIdidn’t even know was there—and now everything is pouring through it.Hisemotions roll over me in waves—strong and undeniable, impossible to ignore.
WhatImostly feel is protectiveness.
It wraps around me first, thick and steady, like an invisible shield.Everytime someone brushes too close…every time a voice gets too loud, or a stranger looks my way too long, it spikes—sharp and immediate.
Possessiveness follows—darker and deeper, coiling low and constant.Itisn’t cruel or controlling—it’s something older than that.Somethinginstinctive…primal.
Mine,it whispers, thoughIdon’t think he knowsIcan hear it.Mine.
And beneath both of thoseIfeel tenderness.
That one nearly undoes me.It’ssofter, quieter, but no less powerful.Itcomes through in little pulses—whenIlaugh at something in the market, or whenIhesitate before choosing something from a stall.WhenIlook at him and quickly look away again.
It almost feels like he wants me to stay with him—like he can’t bear to let me go.
