Midnight Mage

19

***

His eyes remained void of emotion—flat, spring green. Which, consequently, was all the answer I needed. It had been real. And he regretted it. He’d likely been drunk on my blood, which apparently ramped up a vamp’s… other needs. Nothing more.

Nothing more.

“It was self-defense,” he said finally. Breaking eye contact, he looked at Declan. “Bring her to the east wing in two hours.”

He vanished and Declan closed the door.

“Lock it,” I said.

He did.

MY APPEARANCE in the main hall of the compound yielded different results this time around. People still stared, still whispered. But they also nodded. Some of the mages even bowed.

“What’s the party line?” I hissed at Declan as we veered down a hallway.

He glanced at me, brows lifted. “You saved the lives of the Prime and Omega. That’s a pretty big deal.”

I gaped. “Adam was holding his own. They would have been fine.”

“I call Denial,” he quipped. “Even if Adam had run the Liberati off and found someone to feed Riven, what you did was impressive as hell. Lightning, Alfea. There’s no record of anyone like you existing, before or after Ascension. There’s talk in the compound and beyond. Word about you is getting out.”

“What? What word?” I asked shrilly.

Panic softened the edges of my vision and I paused, leaning on a nearby wall for support. Thankfully, we were alone in a spacious hallway, with no one to witness my meltdown.

“Hey,” he said, framing my face with his hands. “It’s good word.” His thumbs grazed my cheekbones. “Even the vamps are impressed, and they’re assholes.”

It worked. I cracked a smile.

Declan grinned and dropped a quick, hot kiss on my forehead. While I blinked dumbly, he grabbed my hand and tugged me into motion.

“What was that for?” I asked at length.

His bright gaze slanted to me. “Shifters are highly physical. We like to touch a lot. And you, Alfea Sullivan, are starved for touch.”

“I don’t know whether to be offended or flattered.”

He grinned. “Just accept it for the truth. I like touching you, and as long as those bracelets are on, I’m going to keep touching you. Don’t worry, I have the utmost respect for your boundaries.”

Mind reeling, I barely noticed as we drew to a halt beside a thick, iron bracketed door. Finally, I looked down at our entwined hands. Seeing. Feeling. His palm was lightly calloused, warm and encompassing. I squeezed his fingers and he squeezed back, imparting a pervasive warmth.

Declan was right. I was starved for touch. Simple, uncomplicated affection from someone other than my uncle. My dad had never been the warm and fuzzy type, but even he had been restricted from touching me since Ascension.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“Come here,” he murmured and drew me forward.

His arms enfolded me, tight and solid, one palm cupping the back of my head. The steady beat of his heart sounded beneath my ear. Tension melted from my body and I drew a deep breath, pulling his scent into my greedy lungs. He smelled like the wild, like fresh air and shadowed woods. There was no expectation in the touch, just affection freely given. It was a revelation.