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Excitement and worry war within me. “How does that change things?”
Flint’s expression turns wry. “Just don’t shake anyone’s hand and accidentally put them in your pocket.”
“I’m being serious here,” I protest.
“So am I.” Flint sighs. “You have the ability to literally make people vanish off the face of the earth. Without your memories to guide you, you could stuff someone into a fold of space and not know how to bring them back out.”
I swallow hard. “That could really happen?”
Flint’s expression softens, and he reaches out to take my hand. “You’ve always been powerful, Sharpe. We know what you could do before, even if you can’t remember. We’ll help guide you so you don’t accidentally send Bailey into outer space.”
That pulls a laugh from me. “That wouldn’t be a bad thing. Can we send the new mayor and Chief Lynch with him?”
Flint sighs wistfully. “That would make all of our lives easier. Then we could run Clearhelm how we want. A true sanctuary city for the Others. Can you imagine?”
I can, and it would be a beautiful, deadly place to live.
new beginnings
- Darius -
Confusion fillsme when I wake up in my corporeal body, in a room other than Marceau’s.
The fire witch lies sleeping in my arms, his heat comforting and his body more familiar than my own. His brown hair tickles under my chin, his strong arm thrown over my waist as if, even in sleep, he tries to merge our bodies into one.
It fills me with a sense of rightness that, even in two different bodies, we still find comfort in each other. But it’s the woman whose slender waist my hand rests upon, her lithe form pressed up against Marceau’s back, that sends a wave of shock through me.
Then the events of the prior night come blazing back to life. If not for waking in Merri’s bed, I would have thought last night a dream.
But here she lies, her face softened by sleep, her thick blond lashes resting against her cheekbones and her ash-blond hair fanned out across her pillow.
Our limbs tangle together in her bed, the three of us wrapped around each other, and the happiness that crashes over me nearly becomes my undoing.
I’ve longed for this moment for so long. Yearned for the right to be here once more. Now that it’s happened, the moment feels fragile, like one wrong move can shatter it into a million pieces that I’ll never be able to put back together again.
For so long I dreamed of this, but never dared to believe it would come true.
But now, in the quiet of the morning, fear creeps in. A fear that slashes through the happiness of the moment and cuts into my heart. Pen had said she wanted to start our relationship anew, and it was Marceau who had initiated the beautiful night of passion we shared.
Was this just a one-time thing? Did I simply get lucky last night? Things had seemed to shift while trapped in the cave with Merri, but there had been danger and risk of death heightening our emotions.
In the cold clarity of the morning after, what if Merri still rejects me being here?
Uncertainty gnaws at me, and the fear that I won’t be welcome spreads. When Merri’s eyes open, instead of love, will I once more see rejection in their golden depths?
Slowly, I extricate myself from the tangle of limbs, careful not to disturb Merri or Marceau. My pulse pounds as I slip out of bed, and my long legs carry me silently across the room.
As I open the door, I glance back at them one last time, my heart aching with longing, wishing I could stay with them forever.
But the worry, the fear of rejection, consumes me, and like a coward, I slip out of the bedroom, closing the door softly behind me.
Quiet fills the cabin, the early morning light filtering down the hall from the main living space. I head to the room I share with Marceau and step inside, then lean against the closed door as I will my pulse to slow.
There’s nothing wrong with a tactical retreat while I assess the situation. I just need to keep a level head until my lady gives me the sign that I am welcome back at her side.
I push away from the door and stride across the cozy room filled with Marceau’s presence. There is nothing of me in this space, but when I inhale deeply, the scent of his cologne mingles with the wood of the cabin and grounds me with a sense of home.
I push open the closet door where my expensive clothes hang next to Marceau’s functional items.
