Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 123190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
“And what’s that?”
When he looks up, his eyes are bleak. “If you were dying, Jasalyn. I can only imagine you taking the Potion of Life rather than waiting to turn fae on your eighteenth birthday if you were dying and that was the only way to save you.”
I thought he was pushing me away this afternoon, but he spent his whole evening worrying about the possibility of me coming close to death. Worrying about the possibility of losing me.
No. Losing Jas.
My breath catches. I’m so twisted up inside, and I have no one to blame but myself.
Misha takes me by the hips and turns me to face him. I crane my neck to look up at him, and we stay like that, only inches apart, staring into each other’s eyes.
He doesn’t move his hands, just keeps them on my hips and studies my face. “There’s only one good thing that would come of that.”
“What’s that?”
“It would mean you would finally choose becoming fae over death.”
I didn’t tell him, did I? I revealed how bad it was when Jas was a prisoner, but that she wished for death even after? That wasn’t my secret to tell.
“You haven’t done a very good job of hiding it.” He brushes my hair back from my face but then leaves his hand cupping my jaw, thumb stroking. “But I was hoping you’d started to feel differently since coming here.”
“I feel so many things, and none of them are simple.”
“I can relate to that,” he says softly.
He touches his lips to mine in what must be the world’s most tentative first kiss. He’s asking permission. He’s preparing to end the kiss before it’s truly begun, and I might weep if he does.
I tilt my head ever so slightly.
His long fingers slide into my hair. Our lips part.
He tastes like wine. Did he have some at dinner? Was it faerie wine? Is it loosening his inhibitions?
When I think he’s going to angle his mouth over mine and deepen the kiss, he pulls his mouth away and sighs.
Forehead to forehead, we catch our breath. I try to remember who I am and what I can and can’t have, but I still can’t think. Not with him this close. Not with the taste of him on my lips.
His thumb strokes across my cheek. “I never expected this.”
“Me neither,” I say. Gods, I want to curl into him. I want him to hold me all night long and keep these thoughts away.
He tilts my face up to his. “Will you come with me? I want to show you my favorite place.”
I nod, trying not to appear too eager. He could take me anywhere. I just don’t want to be away from him yet.
“It is so dark down here,” I say, clinging to Misha’s side.
He’s brought me to the cavern deep under Castle Craige, and I can’t see a thing in front of me, but I can feel his heat against my side and hear water in the distance.
I may not fear the dark like Jasalyn does, but I don’t mind the excuse to stay close to Misha.
“I could cast light on our path,” he says, “but then you’d miss—” Suddenly stalactites above our heads cast a dim glow on the underground path. “That.”
“Wow. What is that?”
“Cave pixies live in the dew on the stalactites. If we bring too much light with us, they won’t glow.”
“So this wasn’t all a ruse to keep me glued to your side?”
He chuckles and pulls me even closer. “I didn’t say that.”
I tilt my face up. “They’re beautiful.”
“Agreed. Pixies are earth fae, and while many spend their days aboveground, they thrive down here.” The sound of running water grows louder. “It’s right around this corner,” he says.
We walk another minute, and the curved path leads to a smaller cavern at the back of the large one.
With a wave of his hand, Misha fills the space with a soft light, revealing a pool of crystal-clear water fed by a trickling waterfall.
“Our ancestors are said to have blessed the water for the strength and good health of their rulers,” he says, “but the darkness and solitude always seem to do more for my mind than my body.”
“Isn’t it cold?” I ask. It’s colder beneath the earth than it was in the garden, and I’m nearly shivering.
“It’s a natural hot spring.” He nods toward the water flowing into it. “Touch it.”
I wave my hand under the flow and nearly moan with the warmth. “It’s like the perfect bath.”
“And it never goes cold,” he says. He’s quiet a moment, as if he’s nervous and trying to make a decision. “Do you want to soak with me?”
“Oh . . .” My cheeks heat. “I . . .” I can’t bring myself to decline. I want to stay here. I want to experience this amazing place. I want to be with him. “Turn around?” I ask.