And something in me—something deeper than reason—won’t let me walk away.
I step forward beforeIcan stop myself.
I’m drawn to her whetherIwant to be or not.
19
ELOWEN
I’m dimly aware of footsteps on the gravel path behind me, butIdon’t look up.Ican’t.I’mtoo lost in the awful, burning ache inside me—the relentless need that won’t ease no matter how tightlyIpress my thighs together or how hardItry to breathe through it.
It feels likeI’munraveling–like something inside me is coming undone, thread by thread and soon there will be nothing left of me.
The need is unrelenting.Thecurse is so strongIfeel likeImight be dying but there’s nothingIcan do to save myself–nothing anyone can do.
“What’s wrong, little one?Whyare you crying?”
The deep, familiar voice cuts through my misery like a blade.
I gasp and look up at once, my vision blurred with tears.Fora momentIthinkImust be imagining him—that the curse has driven me half-mad and nowI’mconjuring him out of nothing.
But no–he’s really there.
Theron stands just beyond the arch of the trellis, his broad shoulders framed by trailing green vines and bright yellow blossoms.Hishands are on his hips, his stance steady and solid, but there’s nothing hard in his expression.Onlyconcern.
I swipe at my eyes quickly, embarrassed to be seen like this, but it’s no use.Moretears spill over, hot and humiliating.Atthe same time, something else rises inside me at the sight of him—a sharp, desperate surge that makes my whole body throb.
The need spikes so suddenly it steals my breath.
Theron seems to see it–or sense thatI’min pain.Hecloses the distance between us in a few long strides and crouches down in front of me.Themovement brings him close—close enough thatIcan feel the heat of him, smell the faint scent of smoke and metal that clings to his skin.
He reaches out and cups my cheek, his rough hand warm and steady andIlean into the touch beforeIcan stop myself.OhGoddess, it feels so good.Justthe simple feeling of his skin against mine seems to ease some of the worst of the need.
“Tell me,” he murmurs.“Tellme, little one.Whathappened?Whohurt you?”
There’s no judgment or suspicion in his deep voice–just a quiet command laced with worry that lets me know he cares.
I open my mouth to speak, but beforeIcan force the words out,Icatch his scent properly.Notjust the forge-smellInoticed before, but something deeper beneath it—warm and spicy, edged with something wild and unmistakably male.
It hits me all at once and my breath stutters in my chest.Theworld seems to tilt and suddenlyIcan’t stay whereIam—not apart from him, not even for another second.Ilaunch myself into his arms, nearly knocking him backward in my haste.
“Whoa!”Helets out a low sound of surprise but catches me easily, his arms coming up around me to steady me.
I clutch at him, pressing close, burying my face against his chest as thoughIcan hide there.
“Please…”Theword comes out broken–barely more than a breath.Ilift my head enough to look into his eyes.“Please,Theron–Ineedyou.”
His expression shifts, something tightening in it, but he doesn’t pull away.
“What do you need, little one?”he asks quietly.“Tellme andI’lltry to give it to you.”
I swallow hard, my throat dry and tight.Thewords feel thick and heavy, like they don’t want to come out at all, butIforce them.
“She came back,”Imanage at last, my voice shaking.“Thewitch…Grizalyn.Shecame into the temple—into the library.Shetook theForbiddenGrimoireand she…”Ihesitate, my fingers tightening in his shirt.“Andshe cursed me again.”
His arms tighten around me.
“Again?”he asks, his voice lower now andIsee his eyes blaze.
