Within (Walk Through Shadows Book One)

Chapter Four

Alasdair was in love.

He stood next to the bed and watched the steady rise and fall of Isabelle's chest. It was dark in the room, though not quite full night, the sun had set and dark clouds had rolled in, deepening the darkness creeping over her. A sudden flash of lightening brightened the room momentarily. He smiled at the scene before him.

Isabelle had bathed before crawling onto the plush mattress to rest before his arrival. Damp strands of her hair clung to her bare shoulders in random places. A trail of citrus scent, from her shampoo, wound through the room, wrapping him in its coying embrace as he leaned closer to her.

The spell twisted through him sharply. A brutal reminder that no matter how much he wanted to let her rest, he would have to wake her. Internally he shoved back at it with all the strength his adoration of her gave him. His eyes glinted with his determination to give her a few more moments of peace. There was no way to know how many of those opportunities he'd have, to just watch her. So he took a deep breath and pushed against the pain and it rose up again with its own determination to overwhelm him.

Isabelle sighed softly and shifted under the covers. Alasdair pulled the blanket back and slid in next to her. The mattress dipped under his weight, in response Isabelle turned to him with a sleepy murmur.

"Hi dream faerie." She snuggled into his chest. "Is it time?"

"Time for what lass?" He pulled her closer and pressed his lips against her forehead..

"You know," she said with a throaty giggle.

Another flash of lightening illuminated the room, followed closely by a crack of thunder. Isabelle's body tensed under his arm. Her hand slid up his chest and came to a stop on the back of his neck.

"I believe we will need to stay inside tonight," he murmured.

"That's fine," she said and pressed her lips against his sweat dampened skin. "You're hurting."

"Yes lass."

The pain had started to overpower his efforts to hold it at bay as soon as she touched him. While his love for her had given him a new strength that enabled him to endure it for a longer period than before he had met her, it had started to rebound faster and stronger.

If Isabelle had noticed the change she didn't mention it. Instead she had accepted it without complaint, the same way she had with all the demands of having an enchanted faerie.

Alasdair couldn't help but admire the depth of her compassion, her determination to give him some sort of freedom, and to improve the limitations of his existence.

Before his arrival that night he'd reclined on the pallet in his prison, that had been covered with big pillows she had shoved into his arms as he'd left her one morning the week prior.

"You can at least be comfortable," she'd said with a smile as he disappeared.

Next to the pallet was a stack of books she'd given him, along with something called a tablet. He was not yet comfortable with that particular gift, even though she'd very patiently shown him how to use it while explaining there was no magic involved, just plain old human ingenuity. The books were a welcome distraction once he'd gotten a good grasp of modern English.

"You don't have to wait." She caressed his jaw with her fingertips.

"You were sleeping. The first time I took you while you were sleeping it was quite distressing."

"For both of us." She tilted her head back to look at him. "Have you had to do that often?"

"Once is more than I would ever want," he said softly.