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He nodded. “But there are no places in the fields to hide your beacon from the unclean ones.”
I accepted the ornate textured glass he offered, enjoying the weight of the heavy glass, and stepped back to the liquor choices. “The barriers my mother erected with her magic stopped working when I was eight. I woke most days todraugrand shambling, dead animals surrounding the house. My nature carried from root to stem, dew drop to stream.”
“And they came.” He poured himself a single malt. I knew what it was by the scent, although the name on the bottle was unfamiliar to me.
“We are both exiled in our way,” Eli said.
I grabbed a bottle of tequila. “And not truly by choice.”
“Let us drink then.” He lifted his glass. “To exile.”
We drank and stood in silence, both lost in our own thoughts. I considered asking for a bit of juice so I could actually feel intoxicated. Straight liquor was like water for me, nourishing and refreshing; the taste was simply a pleasure. No liquor I’d found would leave me drunk. Wine could offer a light buzz, but that required a full bottle. I didn’t publicize that fact. I’d rather look like a bad-ass with a hollow leg than admit that booze wasn’t limiting to me—but thatfruitwas.
“As my dear dead gran isn’t in the walls to summon,” Eli announced suddenly, “perhaps we could relax here until you are ready to visit the family. I have two showers and a pair of tubs. I will need one of the showers after carrying the deceased. What would you prefer?”
The appeal of sinking into a tub must have been obvious on my face. Eli led me to a room that seemed impossible, but so utterlyhim. Plants bloomed, and moonlight filtered in through skylights. The ground appeared to be grass. I bent to pet it.
“I’d ask that you wear no clothes or shoes past this foyer,” he said. “Some of the plants are sensitive, and we were in the dirt and blood.”
He motioned to a wooden cabinet. “There are clean clothes here. Identical to items you wear often.”
“In my size? Or . . .”
“Yes.” He said no more, but I opened it and glanced in. It wasn’t as if he had many clothes, of many sizes or styles. Just mine.
“Eli—”
“I lack shoes for you, but . . .” He shrugged. “I was not expecting to need those.”
“My boots are fine.” I bent and removed them.
“Shower to rinse first if you want.” He gestured to a marble rainfall shower behind plants. “However, the tub filters the water at all times. The controls are on the wall near it, but it is already at a temperature comfortable for you.”
In the far end of the room was the largest tub I’d ever seen. It was cut of stone, and a small waterfall poured down the wall as if nature had been captured inside. It seemed more like an indoor pond. At least four grown adults could fit inside it.
I glanced at Eli, thinking about him joining me. “Where will you be?”
“Another room.” He didn’t respond to my look: no flirtation, no offers. He took a drink of his whisky and walked away.
When the door closed, I stripped and walked closer to the tub. At the bottom were massive smooth rocks. I sank into the already warm water and tried not to think about my magic’s irregularities or the way I wanted to lean into my body’s response to Eli.
I was going to drink and wash the gross away instead. I appreciated the way Eli looked and acted, and he appreciated something about me he was kind enough not to say. Ours was still a simple, clear relationship—which was how I liked everything in my life. Clear. Well-defined boundaries.
I just needed to figure out how to keep it that way.
Chapter Eight
When I returned from bathing,dressed in a nicer version of my standard jeans and shirt, Eli was settled in at a plush chair by the window, reading a tattered book of what appeared to be Gaelic poetry. His hair was damp, and his clothes were clean. I resisted the urge to remark on his reasons for having clothes here for me, or even the fact that my magic was calmer after having a few moments to find my own ways to take the edge off the sexual tension I couldn’t release with him.
“Better?” he asked. The question felt loaded, and I wondered how much his fae senses told him—or if he just knew me.
I nodded. I was a witch, tied to nature, life, and death. There weren’t many of us in the world. The only one I knew well was my mother. I’d met two or three others in my childhood. None of them were particularly reserved women. Life and nature and death were all raw, messy, and dealing with that didn’t leave a lot of room for being a prude.
My mother’s version of the “birds and bees” was along the lines of “witches who refuse their primal energy can’t work magic well.” Nudity was natural. In this, Eli and I were pleasantly at ease. The fae weren’t any more prudish than witches.
“I am calmer as well,” he said with a rough voice and wicked smile that made me quite certain that he had taken the edge off his tension much as I had done.
And just like that, my needs were back. I walked over to the bar, grabbed another drink, and tried not to think about naked Eli.
