Chapter 7
The tips of Gwen’s fingers itched, and she rubbed them on the coarse, cool surface of her jeans to relieve the sensation. It didn’t work. She scratched her arm under her sweater, where another patch of tingling, mind-numbing itch had suddenly burst forward. With a groan of frustration, she stopped in the middle of the forest, her ragged breaths fogging her vision. She scratched that spot. Then one at her neck, and one at her lower back, until she was spastically scratching all over.
She stood still and satisfied, her eyes closed and her face turned up to the dreary, frost-laden sky. Then her fingers twitched, and that feeling started to creep back through the tips. The magick hummed and vibrated under her skin like it was fighting to get free. As if it were going to seep out of her very skin if only she’d scratch hard enough. She’d felt it before, but nothing like this.
This was maddening! She couldn’t take it anymore. With a snarl, she stomped further into the forest, barely recognizing the crisp, cool air between grumbles of irritation and twitching scratches.
If Levian were here, Gwen would have gone to her for help like she usually did, but the mage had gone with Niah to visit the Wizen Council of Mages. It was the most ridiculous name for a group of bearded old fogies she’d ever heard. Not that they were old fogies, necessarily—that’s just how Gwen had imagined them when Levian explained the Council to her. All she could envision were a bunch of ancient, liver-spotted old men with waist-length beards, pointed hats, and thick robes. She’d been amused by her own imagery. A convenient way to mask the truth.
Gwen was anxious. No one made a big fuss about it, but she wasn’t totally na?ve anymore. She could tell this meeting was important. That Levian hoped to finally get some answers. During their time together in the library, the mage always seemed to have her face stuffed in a book or a scroll or some dusty ancient tome, frantically scribbling notes as she went along, nearly half a dozen pencils lodged somewhere nearby in case she had a sudden thought and needed to write it down. Gwen assumed the habit had developed because she couldn’t conjure in Volkov like usual. It was a little funny, actually, to see how someone who relied so heavily on magick dealt without it. Levian hadn’t said anything, but Gwen had caught her more than once mindlessly trying to summon something, only to remain empty-handed. Then she’d grumble a curse and get up to hunt what she’d been wanting.
Niah had gone with the mage for the meeting with the Council of Mages. They left last night, right at twilight. The itch had started this morning, near dawn. Just a slight annoying sensation at the end of her fingers. Barith and Rath had left early to run errands in the village, and Gwen had felt too out of sorts to go with them. She’d tried to read in the library. That hadn’t worked. She’d paced around the den where she and Barith and the others hung out most mornings and after dinners. That hadn’t done anything. She’d walked around the garden. Nothing but this itching. Then she’d gone to her room to take a bath. Itch. Scratch. Itch. She’d paced a trail in the rug by her bed, her fingers running over her body to satisfy each new blooming spot of irritation.
Eventually, she felt like she was going to claw out of her own skin. Relief. She needed relief. And there was only one thing she could think to do. Only one place she could think to go. Anything to stop this torture!
Gwen found her way to the hot spring without hardly thinking. Her body had simply homed in on it like a beacon. The moment her eyes fell on the steaming water, her skin trilled with anticipation.
Relief. Relief. Relief.
She threw the towel she’d brought over a large rock and frantically tore off her boots, then peeled out of her clothes. When she was in nothing but her underwear, she dipped her foot in the water. It was hot, but not so hot she had to brace herself. Her skin skittered with gooseflesh as the frosty air caressed her bare skin. It was pleasant. Anything was pleasant compared to that damn itching.
Gwen slipped in her other foot and balanced her way along the rocks until she was knee deep. Already she felt the waters working over her skin in soothing, caressing relief. The moment she realized she wasn’t going to scald anything, she dove her entire body in.
Wonderful warmth enveloped her, and she groaned at how good it felt. She’d been right. The hot spring was just what she needed. Her skin tingled where it had itched just moments ago, and she savored the simple pleasure of it, dunking her head below the surface. The tingle spread over her face and scalp. It was absolute heaven. When she surfaced, she let out a breathy, raw laugh.
She should have come here ages ago. It was amazing. Though she knew exactly why she hadn’t.
Her eyes darted around the shifting trees and forest brush. It was well into morning now, but the sky was dark with dense gray clouds threatening heavy with snow. The air was frigid and moist, the winds soft but enough to stir the shadows. She swallowed her nerves, turned her back to the trees, and stepped along the rocky surface below to draw deeper into the pool until she stood with the water up to the middle of her neck. The spring was surprisingly deep for how small it was. If she went much further, she knew she’d have to tread water and swim. Gwen scanned the tree line again over her shoulder, half expecting Sirus to come gliding out of the shadows at any second. When he didn’t, she relaxed and tensed at the same time.
She’d not come back here since the day he brought her to this place. When she stood staring into the woods long enough that her hair and ears grew cold, she grumbled with frustration and pushed herself into the center of the pool. She swam for a while, loving the feel of the water against her skin. She’d never been much of a swimmer, but this wasn’t any ordinary pool. Gwen splashed around, enjoying the strain and stretch of muscles she rarely used. Enjoying the way her muscles, which were already sore from training, seemed to relax and loosen under the healing touch of the waters.
She swam lightly to the back of the pool, where it butted against a flat slab of rock cut from the hillside. Giant boulders and several other rocks were nestled around it. She was surprised there were no carvings in the rock since it seemed like everything else around Volkov was carved and crafted for beauty.
As she drew closer, she could see that a bench of sorts had been cut out of a giant boulder. It was tall and oblong, almost like a natural throne. A perch to rest and relax beneath the surface. Gwen nestled into the seat, tilting her head back against the warm stone behind her.
It made sense, she supposed, the longer she sat there. This place was beautiful in its own regard. It didn’t need the touch of chisels or the mark of artistry. If was a wonder of nature and magick, and anyone who spent time here would understand why it was best left as it was.
Gwen kicked her feet delicately and ran her arms wide just below the surface, enjoying the rush of the water over her tingling skin. It took all of two seconds before she started thinking about Sirus again.
Their training had been tough. Way tougher than it had been with Niah. He pushed her. Frustrated her. Drove her nuts, honestly. Gwen nibbled at her lip, trying to stifle the smile that threatened. She’d wanted to chuck her sword at his head more than once when she was bent over heaving air into her lungs and he told her to get back into position. It was insane, but in a week she’d already learned most of the basic forms and movements he’d taught her. She was also getting stronger.
Gwen had been worried she’d overstepped that night in the library, but Sirus hadn’t mentioned it since. To her surprise, he’d even started joining them all in the den after dinner every night. Mostly he drank wine and corrected Barith and Levian when they recounted some of their wild stories from working together. It was her favorite part of the day. More so the part after, when Sirus would walk her back to her room on his way back to his study. He never tried to touch her or linger at her door.
She knew she was an idiot, but she liked him. A lot. More than a lot. Last night, she’d even thought about making a move on him herself, but she’d chickened out at the last second, mumbling some incoherent nonsense about bedbugs and the sandman. She couldn’t really remember what she’d said, but she’d followed it up by throwing herself onto her bed with a groan of utter embarrassment. Smooth she was not. She’d not seen him since and wasn’t looking forward to it.
Gwen ran her fingers over the warm waters, relishing the tingle. Insecurity was a crappy, nagging harpy, and it followed her everywhere. Constantly whispering in her ear that if she put herself out there, she’d only get hurt. That if she told Sirus how she felt or what she wanted, he would only reject her again, and what good would that do? She was better off keeping quiet and protecting herself. Protecting her heart.
Her lips pursed, and she scowled. Whoever that woman was from his past deserved a good arse kickin’, as Barith would say. Gwen had seen the pain in Sirus’s face the other night in the library, even if it had been subtle. She might not have recognized it so acutely if she hadn’t known that brand of pain intimately herself. Rejection was a hard pill to swallow. Even worse when you felt it was deserved.
Her heart ached anew. That horrible woman had hurt Sirus. Worse, he seemed to be completely fine with it. Like he’d even expected it.
She did not want me.
There are not very many who open themselves up to my kind. For good reason.
Gwen didn’t know the specifics, but she didn’t need to know to put it all together. Her blood boiled. She wanted to hunt that woman down and give her a piece of her mind. Maybe even a fist in the face.
She felt irrationally vengeful. Possessive. It was a new feeling, and more than a little overwhelming. She’d never felt possessive of anyone. She’d never loved anyone before either.
Gwen groaned, letting her body slide forward to the edge of the deep bench so that she was up to her ears in the warm water. She didn’t love Sirus, but the word struck a little too close for comfort.
Before the mirrors, she’d gotten little glimpses into Sirus. Little glimmers of his thoughtfulness. His kindness. How he’d scooped her up when she’d been drowning under the weight of awakening her magick in London. The way he’d thrown himself in the fray to save her from Aldor in the mirrors. How he’d held her to him while he bled to death. In Abigail’s garden, something had already been blossoming inside her, but her attraction had drowned it out. It wasn’t just a crush or lust or anything so simple. Not anymore. Gwen felt different when she was around him. She felt seen in a way she’d never felt before. She felt understood. Near him, she didn’t feel afraid. Her eyes blurred, obscuring her view of the trees until the loose tears trickled down and mixed with the water.
She was afraid, she recognized. Afraid of this constant ache inside her that seemed to be rooted in shadows. Like a dark flower that grew in her chest and threatened to bloom but couldn’t quite unfurl its petals. He was so much more than he knew. So much more to her. Being here with him at Volkov…it had been precious to her in a way she was struggling to comprehend. She’d started to feel at home here, despite her best efforts not to. Gwen knew it wasn’t smart of her. That harpy of insecurity kept telling her she shouldn’t care about him like she did. That she barely knew him. That it’d only been a little over a month…and yet she couldn’t help the way her heart ached thinking about him.
It was her insecurity that had kept her from believing he could be interested in her again. She’d been sure he was only acting friendly to ease their time together until she was shipped off to the Veil. She’d been sure that any little lingering looks or dark flashes in his eyes were all in her head. Sirus didn’t want her. He never even touched her unless he had to. Like when she was falling over her own feet. Gwen had thought she’d caught him looking at her body, but she’d convinced herself that she’d only imagined it.
He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
Those words had echoed in her mind over and over, and in Sirus’s voice.
A little flurry hit her forehead, spreading a pleasant chill against her hot skin, and she looked up into the sky. Snow had begun to fall in large clumps. Her breath caught in her chest as she watched the white flakes fall and begin to gather around the spring and in the trees. It was magickal.
Gwen lifted her hand up high enough out of the water to catch one large flurry before it melted. The bite of cold was lovely. She smiled from a place raw and deep inside her. She loved the snow.
A shiver spread over her skin. She tucked back into the warmth of the pool, but the shiver continued. Gwen spun, scanning the forest and the deep recesses of shadow in the trees.
“Hello?” she called out, a little trill of anxiousness flooding her stomach.
No reply. No movement. The snow began to come down harder, and she glanced up again. Gwen couldn’t see him, but her insides knotted, and that little shiver rippled up her spine. What gripped her, she wasn’t entirely sure, but before that harpy of insecurity could whisper in her ear, she stood up on the bench. The sharp scrape of the cold spread over her hot, exposed skin, flooding her body in a pleasurable contrast of temperatures. Gwen smiled at the sensation and tipped her head up to the sky, letting the flurries fall over her.
Maybe he was out there somewhere. Maybe he wasn’t. All she knew was that if he was out there, she wanted him to come closer. So she spoke to the forest and the shadows and the snow the first words that popped into her head:
“There’s room for both of us, you know. I promise not to bite.”
The growl that reverberated through his chest was nothing less than feral.
Gwendolyn stood with her head tilted to the sky, her nearly naked body hovering above the spring like she were one of the priceless statues within Volkov.
She was more beautiful than any work of art he’d ever beheld.
Sirus had not expected to find her here. He’d come to soak himself. He had been so preoccupied with his thoughts, he’d not recognized her swimming in the spring until moments before she turned and looked into the darkness. For the first time, he’d stumbled upon her entirely on accident.
That smile had transfixed him. The pure bliss of it. Then it broke, and she looked into the woods, calling out to see if anyone was there. He’d dipped further into the shadows of a tree, unwilling to be found, mortified that she would think he’d come on purpose but humming with excitement knowing she’d felt him even if she couldn’t see him. Sirus was not honorable, but he knew it was crude to watch her and not reveal himself. It was one thing to skulk in the shadows and watch her as she traipsed around his castle. It was another to leer at her half-naked body as she swam in an enchanted pool.
He’d turned to go. Only he hadn’t. His feet hadn’t budged. He was frozen to the ground, as if his boots had turned into great, rooted trunks of a tree buried deep beneath the earth. He’d not been able to tear his eyes from her either.
When she stood, water sluicing, steam rising over her creamy skin, it’d pulled the air clean from his lungs like he’d been struck in the chest with a battle axe. The sweet smile that had spread over her lips as the snow flurries cascaded along her body had set his skin aflame and a shiver coursing through him all at once.
She was a vision. A nymph. A siren. Venus herself.
Then she spoke.
A shiver had proceeded the growl. A shiver that sent every inch of his skin thrumming with electricity. The words were playful and light, but bubbling beneath them was a challenge. She was teasing him, he’d realized a few beats late. Teasing the monster that lurked in the shadows to come out and play with her.
For fuck’s sake. Another growl ran through him.
He should have turned around, stalked back to the castle, and left her there in all her glorious beauty to enjoy herself in peace, but the thought didn’t even cross his mind. There was no other option. His feet only moved in one direction. Toward her. Toward the fire she threatened to consume him with. He wanted to burn a thousand times over. Sirus no longer cared about what was right or wrong or smart or foolish. Perhaps, before her, he could have lived the rest of eternity mucking through the gray of his existence without ever knowing any different. Only now he did know differently.
Gwendolyn was color itself. Sirus could feel her vibrant spectrum in the air he breathed, in his muscle, blood, and bones. Maybe Levian was right, he wondered somewhere at the edge of his mind. Maybe Fate had conspired to bring them together.
He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
His soul was darkness. Hers was radiant. They were not the same, but Sirus felt like his was bound to hers, much like the shadow was bound by the light. She could exist without him, he not without her.
So he stepped forward, toward her radiance. One foot before the other. When he came into view, that sweet, determined smile fell slowly from her lips. Gwendolyn did not try to hide her exposed flesh. She stood, bold and brazen, at the edge of the pool like it was hers. Like she were the naiad who ruled over it and made it flow with magick.
Her eyes raked over him, her expression oddly blank, as he came to stand at the edge of the spring. When her gaze rose to meet his, her expression darkened, and she tilted her chin up, crossing her arms delicately over her chest.
“You’ve been watching me,” she accused, the words sharp but not cutting.
His muscles clenched. “I have,” he admitted.
Gwendolyn’s eyes widened only a fraction at the admission, then narrowed. It had been an accident, but it didn’t seem she would believe that. He wasn’t entirely sure it was true either. It seemed naive to not acknowledge that he always wanted her near. That when he’d set out from his study to come to the spring, it had been in hopes of finding her along the way.
She let out a deep breath through her nose, her torso rising and falling heavily under the effort. The snow began to come down in earnest then, heavy flurries big enough that they made it to the surface of the pool. The flurries were gathering on her body and in her hair, but she still didn’t dip below the water. She shivered under the chill, wrapping her arms tighter around herself.
His breath held in his chest as he waited. Suddenly, the tension in her body gave way, and she let out a huff of air. “Come in with me,” she said. “It’s freezing, and if you stand there much longer you’re going to turn into a snowman.”
It wasn’t what she’d wanted to say, but her warm playfulness set his skin burning. Her direct invitation to join her made his mouth run dry, and he froze. Sirus willed his pulse to calm before he moved, lest he throw himself into the waters while he was still clothed, boots and all.
He knew he shouldn’t feel disappointment when she lowered herself back down into the waters, but he did. She dipped all the way below the surface, sending the flurries in her hair melting into the hot spring. When she emerged, her heavy, damp lashes blinked in his direction, and the first flash of uncertainty flickered in her eyes. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
He hated her uncertainty. That he’d spurred it on. Of course he wanted to. He’d wanted to join her since he realized it was her splashing in the pool. He’d nearly jumped out of his own skin to join her when she’d beckoned him the first time.
The snow began to abate, but only slightly. Without a word, he went to her things and gathered them up. Her clothes would be soaked through if they lay out much longer.
“There’s a rock here,” he said carrying her clothes and towel to a place on the other side of the spring. She watched him closely as he went. There was a gathering of rocks built up to create a little alcove for occasions such as these. “It will keep everything out of the damp.”
He brushed away a few leaves and carefully laid all of her things in the center of the alcove. Then he shrugged out of his jacket. The moment he did, her breath hitched. His eyes darted to hers. Her cheeks were pink from the frost and heat, but there was no mistaking the look in her eyes. Another primal growl nearly escaped him, but he managed to tamp it down. Sirus slid the jacket off his shoulders and placed it in the alcove beneath her things so that it wouldn’t crush them. He met her eyes again when he reached for the collar of his shirt and pulled it up over his head.
Women had looked at him with hunger before, but it’d never sent hot satisfaction humming over him like it did when Gwendolyn gazed at him. Those emerald eyes scanned his exposed torso, leaving heat in their wake, and she mindlessly bit her bottom lip. He was jealous. Sirus could still remember the taste of her, but despite his best efforts the memory was growing faint as time passed. He wanted to taste that lip again. Her mouth. Her skin. He wanted to taste every inch of her. To memorize and savor her until there was no way he’d ever forget.
When he reached down to undo his pants, her eyes widened, and she turned her head away. He smirked—a rarity for him, though she couldn’t see. Apparently, she was not so emboldened as to watch him undress completely. He removed his boots and his pants, until all he wore was a pair of tight black boxer briefs. He would normally swim naked, but since she was not, he kept a layer on. Gwendolyn was still facing away from him when he stepped over the edge of the rocks and immersed himself up to his hips in the hot spring waters. She peeked then. It was beyond adorable.
His heart pounded in his chest, every muscle in his body relaxing as the waters did their work. His anxieties and inhibitions began to wane as well. Gwendolyn had teased the monster in the shadows to come out and play with her. And now he was here.
With a small smile and a satisfied swell in his chest, Sirus met her cautious gaze and dove beneath the surface.