Chapter 2
Endless whispered voices called to her from the darkness. Those familiar green eyes of the man in the woods bored into hers. Dread twisted like a gnarled hand around her heart. “Selda asor List?,” a disembodied voice called to her.
Daughter of Darkness.
A warm touch grazed her cheek. Gwen turned toward Sirus. She breathed him in and slid her hand over his. Savoring his touch. He leaned in, pulling her closer, the shadows tightening around him. “Stay away, Gwendolyn,” he whispered into her hair.
No, she thought with despair, closing her eyes. He should stay away…But she didn’t want him to go. Once he was gone?—
He pulled back, and his lips caressed hers in a featherlight kiss. Gwen ran her fingers over his bearded cheek and felt the electricity of their contact from the tips of her fingers down to her toes. Her eyes shot open.
She stood in a dark forest filled with a thick haze, her heart so heavy she could barely breathe. She was alone. Sirus was gone.
The sound of waves eventually drew her attention forward. Gwen emerged at the edge of the wood, which edged along a rocky beach. Beyond, a vast black ocean sparkled with starlight. Not from above, but below. Stretched over the ethereal black sky were the branches of a great sprawling tree, the leaves of which glowed with magick.
The heaviness in Gwen’s heart began to subside. She knew this place. Somehow.
Something rustled in the brush behind her. She turned and came face-to-face with a giant gray-and-white wolf standing in the shadowed mist of the forest. Its bright green eyes watched her.
The whispers of magick shifted amongst the haze and the stirring leaves like a gentle breeze.
“I don’t understand,” she told the wolf. “What do you want?”
The wolf cocked its head—its eyes shifted to a vibrant purple.
It wanted nothing, she realized. It was simply waiting.
The wolf watched her with interest—its eyes shifted to a piercing yellow.
Hot tears blurred her vision, and she wiped them away. At her shoulder, Sirus whispered her name. Gwen spun around with a sharp gasp. He snatched her hands to his chest as if he was desperate to hold on to her. His eyes were pure black, blood smeared over his face. The forest and sea gone. A sob fell out of her as she peered up at him, her skin burning at the far edges of her consciousness.
“I’m sorry,” she breathed as the shadow coiled tighter around them. The pain in his black eyes made her heart ache like it was being ripped in two. She ran her fingers over his beard once more, smearing the blood. It was all her fault. All of it.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered as her lips brushed against his, trying to savor every last moment.
“Selda asor List?, len,” the whispers called to her. Come, Daughter of Darkness. “Olnw? asor Huin?.” Child of Shadows.
Sirus was consumed by the shadow. Once more, she was alone.
A flash of blue struck like lightning.
Gwen’s body felt like it was made of lead as her sleep-fogged brain tried to make sense of things.
She was in a bed, she realized after a few moments.
Her heavy eyelids fluttered open, and she immediately squinted against the oppressive light. When she’d adjusted, she took in the soft rays of sunshine that spread between the gaps in the curtains, revealing a furnished bedroom with stone walls and old dark wood furniture. She began to recognize the smell of polish, leather, and woodsmoke. A fire cast a soft orange and yellow glow over the far side of the room.
She blinked. The gears in her head slowly started to churn.
Where the hell am I?
There was movement by the fire. Only her eyes moved, as her head wasn’t yet able. Barith sat in a chair by the small hearth, rolling his giant shoulders as he kept his eyes on the book in his lap. Everything snapped into place the moment she saw him. Gwen’s head throbbed as recognition struck her, like every memory flooded into her brain all at once.
She didn’t gasp or jolt up—she just lay there. Letting it wash over her. The shock. The blur of memories. The fear.
If she moved, Barith would know she was awake.
If he looked at her, she would have to ask him.
If she asked, he would have to answer.
Gwen’s chest grew heavy under the weight of it all, causing her to push out a harsh, uncontrolled breath. Barith’s amber eyes darted to her the moment she did.
His expression was full of concern but nearly immediately softened. They just looked at each other for a few seconds before he said, “He’s alive.”
The weight lifted, and Gwen took in a deep breath that made her body ache in protest.
It had worked. Somehow, it had worked. Sirus was alive.
Barith stalked over to the edge of the bed; the jovial twinkle returned to his eyes. “Can’t say his brush with death has warmed him up any,” he teased. “You, on the other hand, look even more radiant than before.”
Gwen replied with a soft snort of disbelief, causing her face and head to pulse with pain.
Why does everything hurt so damn much?
She shifted in bed and winced when she put pressure on her right arm.
“Careful, there,” the dragon huffed. “You’ve still got some healing to do.”
Her right forearm was bandaged tightly in stark white linen. She lifted her hands. Jagged, dark-pink lines ran across each palm beneath a layer of some kind of salve that smelled floral and earthy.
A glass of water appeared at the side of her face. “Drink this,” Barith told her, moving as if he were going to pour it into her mouth.
“I can do it,” she declared shakily. Her throat felt sore and tight. She took the glass gingerly with the tips of her fingers, careful not to push it against her palms. She guzzled down the first glass like someone who’d been dying of thirst. The second, she savored. She’d never thought water could taste so good. After her third, her belly felt like a sloshing sea.
Gwen slid over to try and get out of bed.
“Don’t even think about it,” Barith snapped, taking one step closer to loom over her with disapproval. His giant dragon wings were glamoured away, but his scaled golden-red tail swayed behind him.
“I just need to stand,” Gwen grumbled. Her body felt stiff and heavy and strange. Like she hadn’t moved in months.
Barith grunted in annoyance but slid back and gently grabbed her elbows in his bear-sized hands to steady her. Any other time, she might have brushed him off, but as Gwen shifted her legs to the edge of the bed, she knew without him she would topple over the moment her toes touched the floor.
As her legs dangled, she finally bothered to realize what she was wearing: a dusty-rose-colored, strappy silk nightgown.
“Levian,” Barith explained, clearly reading the confusion on her face. “She insisted on cleaning you up and dressing you. If you don’t like the frippery, take it up with her.”
It wasn’t what Gwen would have picked, that was for sure.
Barith helped her to her feet. She winced, her body protesting the exertion of muscles she hadn’t even known she had. Her legs tingled with pain, and she leaned on Barith’s help a bit more as she moved her feet.
“She didn’t have anything more—normal?” Gwen asked, trying to distract herself. She usually slept in old, oversized T-shirts, not silky, feminine nightgowns.
He gave a husky chuckle. “This is as normal as Levian gets.”
Gwen wasn’t surprised by that. The thought of sleeping in anything less than silk would probably offend the mage to her core. The soft fabric did feel soothing against her skin, she had to admit. And it covered her enough that she didn’t feel totally embarrassed in front of Barith.
As the prickle in her legs subsided, she turned her palms up. Her stomach churned, and a cold sweat made the silk cling to her body.
“It’s healed fast,” Barith assured her. “Those lines’ll be gone sooner than you think. The bump on your head and that little nick on your neck are already healed.”
“How long?” she asked.
“With that salve Levian made, they’ll?—”
“No,” Gwen cut in, shaking her head. The effort caused her to body to tense, and she had to breathe through the pulse of pain. “How long was I asleep?”
He let out a deep breath through his nose. Gwen braced herself. “Only three days.”
She nearly fell back onto the bed. She’d been asleep for three days?
“We thought it might take longer,” Barith admitted, as if it would make her feel better. “You being mortal and all. Levian whipped up that salve for your wounds and has been spoon-feeding you some potion morning and night. You’ve been healing pretty fast, but—we weren’t sure how long your body would need.”
She knew what he meant. Using magick had drained her. Giving Sirus her blood had taken every last bit of energy she’d had left. She didn’t regret it, but she felt it. Her body was still angry over all that she’d done. Hazy flashes of memory shifted in her head. It was hard to remember it all exactly, but the sight of Sirus—blood pouring from his mouth. That gaping, dark wound…
A jolt of nerves shot through her. “Can I see him?” she blurted, trying to take a step. She gave a groan of pain, and Barith immediately pressed her right back into bed.
“You need more rest,” he told her, his expression firm. Gwen scowled up at him, doing her best to hold in her grimace at the effort. He sighed through his nose, loose tendrils of soft white smoke dissipating around his face. “You don’t have to push yourself. Sirus isn’t going anywhere,” he said, trying to assuage her.
Her scowl deepened, and Barith crossed his giant arms over his broad chest. “You really want to see him?” he asked with skepticism.
She nodded and regretted it. Her whole neck and head flooded with dull pain.
Gwen just needed to see him for herself. To know he was okay. She imagined him laid up in his bed, still barely conscious. If she’d slept for three days with a few scratches, how long would Sirus be out of it? He’d nearly died. Even if he was immortal and healed quicker, she doubted he would heal that fast. The memory of his raw, gaping wound turned her stomach.
Barith read the determination on her face. “Fine. But not tonight,” he declared, a touch annoyed. “It’s nearly dark, and I’m sure he’s out prowling the forest. I don’t think I could find him out there if I tried. Levian would like to see you though, if you’re willing?”
Gwen blinked. “He’s in the forest?” It dawned on her then: she had no idea where they were. “He’s not—in bed? Where the hell are we?”
“Volkov Castle. It’s home to Sirus’s vampire clan.”
Her eyes went wide. This was his castle. His home.
“He was out of bed the next day,” Barith went on. “Not that I’ve seen him. He’s only spoken to Levian and Rath.” His eyes dropped to her bandaged arm. “He’ll not expect you to want to see him. Not after what happened.”
Her chest tightened, and she mindlessly ran her fingers around the bandage on her arm. She didn’t know how he could be up and moving already. Not after everything. “I want to see him,” she confirmed.
Barith nodded but seemed far from pleased about it. “I’ll give him the message.”
Gwen leaned back into the pillows, her body aching with each tiny movement. All of a sudden, a wave of nerves washed over her. What if Barith could manage to find him and give him the message and he came right away?
“I-I think I’d like to change and—and take a shower,” she stammered. She didn’t care how crap she felt; she’d been unconscious for days. Her skin was sticky, her hair was probably all kinds of a disaster, and she just felt gross. She didn’t want Sirus to see her like this.
The dragon raised an impatient brow. “I think that would require you leaving that bed.”
“I’m—fine,” she huffed. Every movement seemed to make her feel worse. The dragon clearly noticed and set her with a hard look.
“No. You’re not fine,” he retorted.
Gwen let out a breath and winced. “Please,” she pleaded, even though she knew he was right.
Barith still looked annoyed, but his expression softened a little. He rubbed his hand through his thick auburn beard and revealed a wicked grin that made Gwen narrow her eyes with caution. “I suppose you’ll be needing some help.” His words were laced with scandalous amusement. “I’ve not given many sponge baths, but I’m always up for a bit of practice.”
Gwen scowled. “I can bathe myself, thanks,” she clipped.
His grin turned smug. “You can barely lift your arms.”
Out of sheer defiance, Gwen shifted her legs out of bed and very, very rockily grabbed the bedside table to keep herself upright. To her relief, she didn’t immediately fall over onto the floor, though she was sure if she took a step, she would.
Barith tilted his head, seemingly undecided if he was entertained or pissed at her determination. He let out a huff. “Sit down,” he told her. She did, but only because her legs locked up.
“You might be nearly as stubborn as Levian, and that’s no compliment,” he told her.
“And you’re the king of compromise?” she shot back.
Barith smiled at that, no longer wicked but genuine. “I am these days, it seems.”
For whatever reason, it struck her suddenly that Barith was here, not Levian or Niah or someone else. “Did you sit with me the whole time?” she asked him.
His sun-kissed cheeks flushed a touch pink. “Mostly,” he admitted sheepishly, rubbing his hand through his tousled hair and over the back of his neck. “Levian came to tend to your wounds and such, but I volunteered to keep an eye on you. We didn’t think you should wake and find yourself alone.”
Tears threatened, and Gwen tried to will them away. She was tired and overwhelmed, but their care pricked her. She fiddled with the edge of the comforter. “Look, Barith,” she started, not entirely sure how to say what she wanted to say. “Thanks.” Her throat grew tight with emotion. “For watching out for me. I’m used to being on my own, and it’s kind of weird for me—having you all around.”
“Och,” Barith replied, shifting anxiously. “Dinnae flap.” Gwen sniffled, a little confused by the sudden thickness of his Scottish brogue. “Yer—” He smirked warmly, clearing his throat. “You’re one of us,” he declared, trying to dampen the lilt. “We’re a rougher lot than you’re used to, I’m guessing, but we look out for each other. This might’ve been about the contract at the start, but we like ye, lass. We would’ve gone through that mirror after you too if we could’ve.”
The genuineness in his voice pushed her tears even closer to the edge.
“Sirus has saved my arse and Levian’s more times than I can count,” he went on. “It was hard to see him as he was.” His soft expression darkened. “It was hard to watch him tear at you the way he did too.”
Gwen looked down at her lap. For as playful and flirtatious as Barith was, Gwen knew it was just his nature to tease. She’d never felt any true interest from Barith other than curiosity and friendliness. He was close with Sirus, but it tugged at her heart hearing the protectiveness in his voice toward her. He’d watched over her while she lay unconscious for days. She’d seen the relief in his eyes when she woke. She remembered his snarls of protest when they’d let Sirus tear into her arm. How he’d carried her away.
“I had to,” she told him. “I had to try.”
“No,” he said flatly, the rumble in his voice startling. “You didn’t.” She glanced up, and he let out a heavy breath. “You didn’t,” he said again, softening, “but you did anyway, and he’s alive thanks to you.”
The memory of it all was still fuzzy, but Gwen remembered that much. How resigned the others had been to Sirus’s imminent death. How desperate she’d been to do something—anything—to save him. Offering her blood was the least she could have done, considering he’d nearly gotten himself killed for her—because of her. She was terrified to tell Sirus the truth of what she’d done, but she had to see him. To see with her own eyes that he wasn’t still writhing in the bed covered in blood.
For a moment, Barith watched her appraisingly, searching her face. Soon he let out a heavy breath. “He came to see you yesterday. Stayed for a while.”
A little shiver spread over her. Gwen swallowed. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Barith replied with a smirk.
Gwen took in a breath to speak but let the air fall from her lungs. It made sense. Sirus probably felt obligated to visit her. There was no reason to read into it. Yet she couldn’t help the little rise of butterflies in her belly knowing he’d come. Had he just hung out with Barith? Had he come to her bedside? Had he touched her or said anything to her? Gwen mindlessly ran her fingers over the bandage on her arm.
The dragon cleared his throat delicately, drawing her out of her head. “I’ll go get Levian,” he said. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to help with your bath. Unless you’ve changed your mind and would rather have my help?” He smiled that devilishly beautiful smile of his, pushing the sleeves of his sweater up over his muscled forearms.
Gwen set him with a stern look, but she couldn’t hold back her own smile. Barith really was shameless, though they both knew he was only doing it to get a rise out of her and lighten the mood.
“Fair enough,” he said with an overly dramatic sigh and a resigned shrug. “I would’ve chosen her over me too.”
When he was gone, Gwen leaned delicately back into the covers and looked over her hands. The levity Barith had brought slowly evaporated. It all felt like a bad dream. A flash of Sirus with that sword lodged in his middle made her chest tighten. She closed her eyes and let out a deep, steadying breath, trying to push the memory away. A recollection of his lips against hers sent a surge of heat pulsing through her core. Her eyes flew open. That also felt like a distant dream.
Gwen errantly ran her fingers over her lips. She knew she should be mad for how he’d abandoned her after their embrace in the garden. At the time, she’d been so furious she’d prayed for something horrible to happen to him. A sinking feeling settled in her stomach. She’d wanted him to pay for being such an ass, but not to nearly die. So much had happened in that one night. So much had changed. She had changed.
She let out a deep breath full of more emotions than she knew what to do with. She’d been convinced Sirus hadn’t thought of her as anything more than a nuisance. A contract and nothing more. A thorn to be removed. Gwen had known it was dangerous to want him. Dangerous to blend the fantasy and reality of what he really was. It had sent a thrill through her when she’d sensed that he wanted her in the garden. That someone like him could desire someone like her. A tension spread low in her stomach. He’d set fire to her, and she’d been more than willing to burn. Her open vulnerability had startled her. Then he’d pushed her away like she was nothing, and everything after that had only gotten worse.
Gwen remembered that look in Sirus’s eyes as he held her hand against him that horrible night when they’d come through the mirror. That moment had changed her. A sharp sob escaped her, and she was powerless to stop her tears from coming then. She could have died. He nearly had.
All the blood. That kiss. The terror. The passion. Her body ached as she sobbed and shook amongst the sheets. The swirl of emotions was overwhelming and confusing, but deep down Gwen knew she had to tell Sirus the truth about what she’d done. All she could do was hope he wouldn’t hate her for it.