Cael rubbed at his jaw, something inscrutable in his gaze. She’d never expected to woo him by making farm animal noises. She’d never expected to woo him at all. That’s not what was happening here.
Was it?
“I do have one hidden talent I don’t usually share with people,” Cael said.
Xenia sprung up on the rock and clapped her hands together.
“But you can’t look at me while I do it or I won’t be able to perform.”
“I’m shocked that’s a problem for you,” Xenia cooed with a smarmy smile.
“You’re hilarious.” Cael tugged Xenia off the rock, then nestled her in the sand next to him, wrapping his wing around her to keep her warm. “Close your eyes.”
“Wrath of Vestan, you’ve got a lot ofrequirementsfor this performance,” Xenia said, though she obeyed his request. “Diva.”
“Hush before I lose my nerve.”
Cael cleared his throat and his chest expanded as he took a deep breath, held it for several seconds, then blew it out slowly.
And began to sing.
Xenia had never heard such a beautiful, heart-breaking sound in her entire life.
Cael’s voice was as sweet and rich as honey with a hint of raspiness at the end of the phrases. It invaded her body, shivered across her limbs, and seeded a dull throb in her lower belly.
She peered up at him through a cracked eye to see he’d closed his, completely lost in his serenade.
Xenia didn’t recognize the song, but it had a plaintive melody and soul-weary lyrics. Something about a doomed affair, the pain of a forbidden love. The desperation for even one pretend moment, a memory to hold onto.
“Just stay here in my arms, one night beneath the stars,
And if I must, I’ll let you go tomorrow…or tomorrow…or tomorrow.”
Xenia reached up to rub at her cheek, surprised to find wetness there.
“Oh High Gods, was I that bad?” Cael asked as he gazed down at her.
Xenia shook her head, nestling in closer as fatigue tugged down her eyelids.
“Sing me another.”
* * *
An hour later,Cael had nearly exhausted his repertoire and Xenia was definitely asleep. He left his wing around her as she breathed puffs of her sweet scent into his armpit.
He hadn’t sung in front of anyone in decades, and huffed a laugh as he remembered the last time he’d done so in public: that disastrous live music night at the Fang and Claw when he and Tristan had made fools of themselves in front of those twins and the entire tavern. He chuckled at the memory and pulled Xenia closer.
He leaned his head back against the rock, listening to the eerie sounds of the Desolation at night—beastly growls, chilling yelps, the underlying drone of insects.
He kept a subtle wind-shield around the clearing, just enough of a breeze to deter investigating predators without completely draining his power.
Xenia stirred in her sleep, then threw an arm across his waist.
He didn’t move her away, let himself get swept up in the fantasy.
The fantasy that she was his.
The fantasy that falling asleep in each other’s arms was a normal, nightly occurrence.
