But she found no joy in his own relief.
Maeve didn’t return the sentiment he displayed. She couldn’t bring herself to smile or feel the weightlessness Reeve surely felt at the truth. She felt shackled by the truth.
Chapter 38
To share even one singular quality, ability, or trait as the creature who possessed Mal’s mind made Maeve sick. Physically sick. She knew it was time to get to work. She knew it was time to hone the gifts granted to her by Shadow Magic. But each time she tried, all she saw were long pale arms, with skin flapping off the bone, forcing Mal into submission.
And when she wasn’t thinking about the state of mind and well-being of the man she’d sworn to protect, she was thinking, infuriatingly so, about Reeve.
Moments of soft laughter and hesitant touches in the darkened halls at Sinclair Estates.
Slowly remembering his hands, his lips—
She slammed the bottle of liquor down on the solid ground next to her, shattering it instantly. Her feet dangled off the edge of a high-sitting balcony at the topmost point of the Celestian Palace. The entire city of Crystalmore glowed effortlessly below her in the dark night.
Her fingers traced the railing above her, where she’d slid between a tiny arch to enjoy the Aternian Absenthine she’d stolen from Reeve’s bar. She looked down at the broken bottle as liquid poured from it, coating the smooth surface beneath. It didn’t matter. She had another.
She messily poured more of the numbing liquid into a small glass and groaned as Reeve appeared behind her.
“I did not invite you,” she said without looking back at him.
She couldn’t look at him. Not when every time their eyes met, she remembered something new. The memories weren’t some foreign idea buried in the back of her head. When an image of Reeve lacing their fingers together with a wicked smile surfaced, she felt hiswarm hand on her own. When she watched him lick his bottom lip at her in her old home, her stomach actually flipped.
With a frustrated groan, she stood, holding her full glass in one hand and running her hand over her forehead with the other. She moved farther down the balcony in retreat.
“You’re drunk,” said Reeve plainly. “Very.”
Maeve kept walking, ignoring him completely. He was in front of her in a mist of Magic before she could make a sharp remark about minding his own business.
He whisked the glass from her hand. “We’re not doingthis,” he said, eyes on the glass.
“You said I could do whatever I wanted here—”
“Isaidwe’re not doing this,” he repeated.
Maeve tried to snatch the glass of Aternian Absinthine back, but it vanished. She scowled up at him, prepared for a taunting remark. But his face was solemn.
She shook her head. “There is no we. You can’t tell me what to do,” said Maeve as she took a step towards him, wobbling slightly.
He didn’t counter a step, but his eyes narrowed slightly. “Is that what you think?”
The warmth radiating from him was like nothing she’d ever felt. It seeped through his clothes, pulsating towards her. A welcome feeling after so long feeling cold. Carved out.
He stood to his full height, lording over her, forcing her neck to crane back to meet his stare. With their chests nearly pressed together, more memories flooded her system, and she had to admit they felt . . . good.
“It’s not a punishment, Maeve. I want to help you,” he said.
“I don’t need your help,” she said coolly.
A lie. A bold-faced lie.
“My mistake,” he said, looking down at her.
He finally countered with a step towards her, catching her off guard, as she quickly attempted to step away. She lost her balance as one of his hands rolled gently off her chest, sending her backwards.His other hand swiftly cradled the back of her head before it collided with the crystal wall of the palace.
She sucked in tightly, and her breath halted in her throat at their contact. She was suddenly very aware that her skin was too dirty for his Holy hands.
His hands moved to either side of her frame, blocking her in.
