Page 59 of Prince of Darkness and Deceit

“No,” he murmurs, the word thrumming with heat. His gaze drags over me. “You are not.”

My heart thumps, and my core tightens as the molten silver light shines once more in his smoky eyes. The hand that touched his wrist tingles.

What is happening to me?

Rian is Fae. I can’t let his predatory good looks make me lose my head. No matter how he’s staring at me right now…

I drop my gaze.

Shadows swirl at Rian’s feet, their movement graceful, as flickers of blue and purple peek through the streaks of black and gray. Mesmerized by the vibrant power, I don’t immediately notice how it creeps along the browned grass toward me.

One tendril reaches my flat shoe. I suck in a breath. Warmth brushes the top of my foot. I assumed his shadows would be cold. But no. They’re warm like a ray from the mid-summer sun.

A shiver runs up my spine. The shadow hesitates, then coils around my ankle. The shadows on my arms slither.

I lift my gaze to ask Rian why the dark marks on my arms seem to respond, but words die on my lips.

Silver encompasses his blown pupils. There isn’t a hint of smoke or black under his brows. It should terrify me, that inhuman gleam. Instead, the molten heat simmering in his gaze sears through my veins.

My heart races.

I step forward. The shadows on my arm pull the limb up, and I reach for Rian. The tendril around my ankle nips at my flesh.

Gods, I want to touch him.

I have to touch him.

“ELARA!?” The shout pierces the hazy curtain in my mind. “Where in Mother’s name are you?”

I jerk back. The shadow around my ankle flitters away, and the ones on my arms still.

Across the tent, Rian holds my gaze, but he blinks, and the light in his eyes is gone.

“Elara!” Jaxon calls again.

Rian turns toward the tent opening. “In here, Jaxon.”

A gust of air precedes Jaxon’s arrival. The fabric behind him opens with a snap.

The Fae’s eyes fly over the tent, focus on me, and the tension fades from his shoulders. “Thank The Mother.”

My eyes widen, and I rush to his side. “What happened?”

Jaxon’s tunic is disheveled. Dirt smudges his hands and face, but it’s the torn sleeve covering his right arm that draws my attention. A dark stain seeps into the fabric.

Without giving him time to answer, I shove the sleeve aside and gape at the raised pink scar running down the length of his arm. A gasp lodges in my throat as the bulging flesh begins to recede into a smooth, flat line with no discoloration.

Gods…I didn’t know Fae could heal so fast.

“It’s nothing.” Jaxon adopts his typical easygoing tone. He smirks down at me. “While I don’t mind the touch of a beautiful woman, I promise I’m okay.”

Rian growls behind me. “Where’s Draven?”

Jaxon’s humor fades as he meets Rian’s gaze. “With Darius.”

The two share a loaded look.

I whip my head between them. Unease curdles in my gut. “What is it? What’s happened?”