I chuckled. “No one has ever asked me that.”
Finally, she turned enough to regard me. Her expression was the most open I’d seen and the beauty of it staggered me. I took a breath before I strode forward and sat on the same stair, though I left ample space between us.
“Do you?” she repeated.
I rested my forearms on my knees. “Yes, I do. The gardens at least.”
“And the house?”
My chuckle was quiet. “I think the word a bit weak for the monstrosity behind us, Mademoiselle Valois.” Her humor mixed with mine. Warmth bloomed through my chest and I took another deep, steadying breath. “I see the gardens and the forest beyond as my home. Thehouseis a façade that is much more for the benefit of others than myself.”
She continued to observe me, her attention a caress upon my soul and the heat of her body a balm to the ache inside my chest, regardless of the fact that I could not touch her. “What do you mean?”
I ran a hand over my face. “Only that time makes my kind hungrier for more than merely blood. To exist within this society I must adhere to the constraints in which it is built, even if they chafe.”
She leaned forward, head tilting to the side. The light of the house illuminated her beautiful features. “So why not change it? You are a figurehead amongst your people. Countless immortals look to you as a leader.”
The warmth in my chest expanded that she would speak of me so highly. “I am, but true change cannot happen in the blink of an eye, so therefore”—I gestured to the house behind us—“I am forced to play the game.”
With a nod she turned toward the night sky and half-moon. “I’m sorry.”
I reached out, stopped myself at the last moment and clasped my hands together tightly. “Whatever for?”
“It sounds lonely, to pretend. To…stifle those pieces of yourself for the betterment of others.”
I did not think we were talking about me anymore. “It is,” I answered.
The scent of salt blossomed in the air as she wiped beneath her eye. Silence stretched between us again, words lingering in the ether unsaid I wished I could put a voice to. I wished I could tell her that if she allowed it, she would never be alone again—never want for anything again. Mating bond be damned, I wanted her. Yet Jules’ caution echoed through my mind.
Instead, I lifted the tin between us. “Would you like this?”
She turned her head the barest amount to look down at the healing salve in my palm. Streaks of tears gleamed on her cheek before she wiped them again with the back of her hand. My heart leapt as she nodded. Rather than grabbing the salve as I expected, she slid a little closer and tilted her head to the side.
Drawing off the lid, I dipped two fingers into the cream and shifted until my thigh brushed hers. With my free hand, I swept back the hair from her throat, observing as her skin prickled and a shiver ran down her spine. I would have thought it was discomfort if not for her scent blossoming in the air between us, the tang of sudden arousal so heavy I could practically taste it.
I settled one hand on her nape to hold her hair back and smoothed the salve over the angry bite marring her throat. Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth as I massaged the spot, ensuring enough of the salve entered the wound that she would have no scar. And if this was all I could have—thismoment to care for her—then I would thank the goddess for the rest of my existence.
Her heartbeat thudded in time with my own, in sync as our breath was. The words were on the tip of my tongue, to ask her to stay, to beg her for a chance. Again and again, they echoed through my mind. The only comfort I could take was her leaning into my touch and a soft sigh of pleasure humming through her chest. When the bite vanished, leaving behind smooth, pale skin, I ran my thumb across it once, memorizing the feel of her in case it would be the last time.
“Thank you,” she breathed.
I dipped my head. “Of course.”
My hands tingled with her warmth; her scent coated my palms. It was as if I’d grown roots into the stones as I shifted away, each inch of space growing between us a crack splintering outward. But as soon as I did, Lord Montag came striding through the glass doors, Bernard on his heels with a disgruntled look on his face.
Perhaps it would be Gerald’s house Bernard would haunt this month.
Lord Montag eyed us speculatively as I rose, offering Mademoiselle Valois my hand. Though she took the offer, she dropped it almost immediately. Lord Montag was quiet for once and I caught the barest whiffs of jealousy around him as we made our way through the halls. I stayed close, using the excuse of guiding them to their carriage.
“Thank you again for your hospitality, my lord,” Lord Montag said, bowing low.
I dipped my chin. “Please feel welcome at the next ball.” My eyes slid to the witch beside him. “Or at my home anytime.”
She curtsied, pressing three fingers to her lips. Lord Montag entered the carriage first and I stepped to the door, holding out my hand as she made tostep up. Her palm touched mine like a brand, her soft exhale ghosting across my face.
“Tomorrow and the next,” I said in Kysoi. Perhaps it was inappropriate, used as it was as an intimate goodbye between lovers.
Mademoiselle Valois’ cheeks flushed, the blue of her eyes suddenly deeper than before. But when she smiled, it wasn’t as if I was seeing the dawn for the first time. No, it was as if I was taking my first, and perhaps last, breath. She squeezed my hand once before turning to take her seat.
