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The whites of his eyes showed, staring at her with naked emotion, too unhinged to speak.
“What’s wrong?” Her own voice shook with the weight of his visceral reaction, her fingers clutching at the dampened sheets of the bed. “Tell me so I can help!”
Gulping, the Raeth fought through his fear to speak. “You can’t be here; it’s not safe for you! This is over!”
Shaking her head in complete denial, Rukia leapt off the bed. She crept forward slowly, telegraphing her movements, unable to keep her distance.
“No, I’m staying with you!”
As she reached out a hand to steady him, Isaiah screamed, “Don’t—don’t touch me!”
The last thing she saw was the abject fear in his wide brown eyes, terror and dread stamped into every cell of his being.
Nausea twisted in her stomach for the briefest of moments before she opened her eyes. Familiar, the surroundings that fenced her in were comforting, soothing.
Hers.
Rukia was home, trembling and alone.
The Raeth had teleported her—without him—back to Paracel before she had been able to connect with his skin. Instantly, she pined for his presence, knowing that he’d still be caught in the jaws of whatever had plagued him in that nightmare.
And now, he was alone, just like her.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Thedesertsunwaitedfor no one. It rose and fell with the inevitable passing of time, indifferent to its effect on what was beneath its rays. Brilliant and scorching, the sun burned its mark into the dry wastelands of his territory, immune to the suffering of the immortals who gazed upon it.
Isaiah watched impassively as it rose in the east. Each sunrise was so full of promise, only to end in bitter disappointment.
He’d sent Rukia home hours ago, assured it’d been the right decision. Theonlydecision. Any other and her death would have been unavoidable. Perhaps not today. Perhaps not tomorrow. But it was inevitable, just like the rising of the desert sun.
Once alone, Isaiah had abandoned his quest for sleep and walked into the coolness of the summer night.
Derikles came to join him just as the sun slid above the horizon. Chilly desert air and soft morning light greeted them as they stood on the rooftop balcony. Neither man spoke, simply listening to the sounds of life waking up from the clutches of sleep.
“Where is the Elemental?”
Isaiah didn’t immediately respond. His second could have only two motives for the question: one, that he feared for Rukia’s safety and, as such, was duty-bound to ensure that Isaiah hadn’t killed her; or two, that he genuinely despised her and wanted to confirm she was no longer here.
Isaiah couldn’t help but think the latter was more probable.
Neither Isaiah nor Rukia had made their mutual affection a secret, and her tenderness toward him yesterday after Jacob’s death surely would have put any question to bed.
“She’s back in Iowa where she belongs.”
Derikles was silent for a few moments, his astute jade eyes understanding too much. “Why don’t you sound happy about it? Have you grown fond of her, sovereign?”
Instead of replying, Isaiah’s gaze dropped from the horizon to stare at the ground below, his arms folding obstinately over his chest. Shooting a sidelong glance at his second, he debated the cost of honesty and vulnerability.
In the end, honesty won out. “I felt the call of the mating bond with her.”
Isaiah could feel the intensity of Derikles’ eyes on him even as he turned away, but neither spoke into the heavy silence that spanned the void between them. A slight breeze rustled over the rooftop terrace where they stood, the Raeth sovereign filling his lungs with the familiar air.
“Do you want a mate, Isaiah?”
The question, blunt and deadpan, had been worded strategically. Derikles knew that his sovereign had never engaged in long-term relationships, preferring casual partners instead.
Isaiah shook his head slightly, a tick starting in his jaw. “I could kill her, Derikles. One errant slip of my abilities and she’d be dead by my hand, with no body to bury. What kind of a life is that?”
