AllFreeNovel
Share Us
A day passes, then another, a third, and a fourth… Every night I go to bed alone. Every morning, I wake up beside Marrok’s still-warm pillow. The man himself is gone.
No one has located Anka—or Shock. Lucan has slipped further into black madness as his frenzied thrashing and piercing howls have faded to heartrending whines.
The mood at the manor is grim.
Bram finally caves to Caden’s demands that they find an energy source for Lucan. But given the horrified screaming on the other side of the door, I doubt there’s much sexual healing going on. Bram and Duke station themselves inside in case Lucan attacks the poor woman. The rest of us wait in the hall, watching Caden pace with clenched fists.
Less than a handful of minutes later, they escort the rattled woman out. She’s trembling and looks as if she’s been dragged through a war zone.
Dear god, what happened?
I rush to the bedroom door with Caden. Lucan’s coloring has improved. That’s the good news. The bad? He looks as crazed as ever. No one wants to say that if Anka isn’t found soon, then Lucan may actually have to be put down…but I suspect everyone has thought it.
Adding to the tense mood, Marrok has become a demented drill sergeant since the break-in. He piles on hour after hour of physical rigor. Usually near midnight, he eats a mountain of food, showers, curls his body around mine in our bed, then collapses and sleeps like a coma victim.
We’ve barely spoken in days. I know he still suspects my father. My head knows it’s possible. My heart refuses to believe it.
I’m so tired of being torn.
It’s still possible that Shock—who can hear mental broadcasts, who failed to guard Marrok’s cottage when the Anarki found us, and who disappeared at the same time as Anka—is the guilty party. He fits the profile, and it isn’t hard to imagine the huge, scary wizard is corrupt. His family has Anarki ties. Bram invited Shock to the manor. He could have broken into my bedroom looking for the diary.
Why won’t Marrok at least consider all that?
Finally, Lucan falls silent, probably passed out from exhaustion. My dinner with Sabelle is almost silent. Since she’s usually upbeat and chatty, I take her pensive mood as another bad sign. After we both push food around on our plates, she excuses herself to the library. I don’t have the focus to read. My thoughts are in a million places.
What am I going to do if Marrok is right and my father is guilty? If he’s merely pretending to care because I can help Mathias open the diary?
I don’t have an answer.
As the clock ticks, I retreat to the bedroom. I’m losing energy fast…but that’s not why I’m waiting up for Marrok. I need him for more than magical sustenance. When we’re not together, I miss him so much.
But I don’t just want him to desire and adore me. This empty feeling without him? Shit, I think I’m in love…
And after everything that’s happened—that’s still happening—I don’t know what to do.
When we shared passion against the wall and he begged me not to rip out his heart, was that real? Or were his words just a careful strum on the strings of my pity to hold me at his side?
And why is this so confusing?
Because I have no experience with love—of any kind. How should I know if he cares…or if I’m just the means to his freedom? And how can I ask a man who may not really love me to make love to me?
The idea of being a burden, like I was to my mother, is gnawingly painful…
In the wee hours, I doze off. Finally, Marrok slides between the sheets and pulls me into his arms. Magic made us mates, but he’s my ideal husband in so many ways. He’s protective, smart, fierce, and stubborn. I love all that about him, yet I admire the fact that, despite being immortal for centuries, he didn’t lose his humanity.
And the dizzying way he consumes my body… I crave the sense of belonging I find in his arms.
But what does he feel? I hate not knowing.
“You shiver, love. Cold?” he whispers.
“No. Sorry to keep you awake.” I roll away so he can sleep—and instantly feel my energy drain.
I close my eyes and brace against a wave of dizziness. Damn, I’ll be forced to ask him for sex soon. Tomorrow. I can’t right now. I’ll cry if he touches me purely out of duty.
As a child, I would have been grateful for my mother’s embrace, whatever the reason. But Marrok’s touch, without affection, will destroy me all the way to my soul.
More weakness assails me. I dig my fists into the sheets. It’s going to be a long night.
