“I imagine you’ll want to seek judgment from a different god,” said Reeve. “One who hasn’t already decided your punishment.”
Heat pooled low,low,inside her, pulsing between her legs. Reeve inhaled deeply through his nose, his chest expanding as his lungs filled with air. And when he exhaled, his fingers tightened, gripping her hair as his eyes rolled back to a close.
“Please, ask me another question,” he said, his voice strained.
Maeve’s mouth was suddenly dry, and her mind was blank. All she saw was a man trying his hardest to deny himself his trapped prey. Because she was. Signals fired off in her brain telling her to let herself fall apart beneath his desire, completely trapped by his hands, his eyes, his voice, and his words.
Reeve straightened his arm, his elbow locking in place as he put distance between them. His hungry eyes landed back on her with a sharp exhale.
“Another question,” he commanded, raw desperation dominating his tone.
Maeve swallowed, trailing back to the list of questions she’d prepared. She stumbled across forming words, until at last she asked, “What about your mother?”
Reeve’s hold on her hair loosened, as if her voice had broken some spell, and he pulled back from her, running his fingers through his own hair as he continued past the mural and ventured deeper into the palace. “She was good and kind. She died just after. . . She passed on a few years ago.”
“Died?” asked Maeve gently, quickening her pace to catch up to him. “She was Immortal?”
“She was,” he answered.
“And so was Leandra”
Reeve nodded.
Maeve stayed in step with him. “I’m sorry, I guess in my mind Immortals don’t die. I never thought about it.”
“Immortals bleed like any living thing.”
Maeve didn’t press him further. He had witnessed the most horrible death in her life, something she hated that he’d seen. Stood there and watched. Didn’t move to help until—
She stopped the spiraling thoughts and moved to another topic as they walked.
“How did you know you’d inherit the power of Aterna?”
“Veto,” said Reeve without missing a beat.
Maeve’s mouth fell open in protest. “You don’t trust me?”
“It has nothing to do with that, Maeve. I don’t talk about inheriting my father’s power on my best day, so I won’t be discussing those dark days today.”
Maeve was speechless. That was the most he’d ever spoken of his past to her. Or of his father. He offered her one last bit of himself.
“You have no understanding of what it’s like to be forced against your father. Ambrose honored you. And you honored him.”
They had brought to light three out of the four of their combined parentage. Only one remained unspoken of.
“Is there truly a chance that someday you’ll be able to tell me about my mother?”
Magic whipped across Reeve, so potent, Maeve could feel it. He closed his eyes and let out a singular, small groan. With gritted teeth, Reeve nodded once.
The sound of birds and running water met her ears as they stepped from the palace into one of its many contained gardens. A wide bridge arched over sparkling water, feeding various forms of plant life in the lush environment. She stopped along the bridge, her fingers trailing the ornate railing.
It was so serene, so peaceful, so reminiscent of a time when her biggest problems were exams and one-upping her sister. Her sister, who regularly occupied her thoughts and worries, like so many she’d failed to protect the day she freed Shadow.
“All out of questions?” asked Reeve, pulling her out of her thoughts.
“Hardly,” she said with a soft smile.
Reeve leaned against the opposite railing, a perfect picture of male ease. The places on her neck and scalp where his fingers had been, lingered with warmth, like little pockets of his mark. His essence.
