Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Kjeld thought for sure that fucking vampire had drained her dry of blood.
He’d watched in horror as Caelian had lurched away from Elder Lothaire.
He’d started running the second she began to vomit.
And he’d dropped to his knees to catch her before she hit the ground.
She was lethargic and limp, her skin cool and clammy, pale as the first snowfall.
He could not describe the relief he felt after discovering she’d not been bitten, but her current state did nothing to ease his rage.
It was only because Caelian was cradled in his arms and still breathing that he didn’t take Kaldflam to Lothaire’s neck.
He blamed his concern on her damned wishes, but he knew part of the reason he came to her rescue was guilt. And the weight of it burdened him like nothing else.
He’d been so heartless. So cruel. He’d publicly shunned her, then sent her off with a damn vampire in a world she knew nothing about.
What the hell had he been thinking? What if Lothaire had taken her?
What if he’d bitten her? Hell, what if he’d turned her?
Kjeld would never be able to forgive himself.
Worse, Drake and the entire Starstorm clan would likely disown him—if not kill him outright.
Now, three days later, Caelian was curled on her side beneath a blanket of velvet, and though color was slowly seeping back into her cheeks, her eyes did not open.
But her heart was steady, a constant beat that brought him comfort.
Reminded him she was alive. Her breathing was even and deep as she slept, her lips just barely parted.
Kjeld stoked the fire in the hearth, keeping watch over her and the dragon eggs.
They were currently nestled in a blanket of fur, their scaled shells glistening in the glow of light.
Two were obsidian in color, and he imagined they would both be males, while the iridescent silver one would likely be a female.
The eggs weren’t very large, about the size of an adult cat.
But once they hatched, the dragons would grow within a few months, reaching full size within a year, and maturity in two.
Sitting in one of the chairs by the hearth, he reached over and gently stroked the rough scales of the silver one.
He would bet anything she would look like her mother, Astrylys.
There was an uncomfortable twinge in his heart.
Without her here to raise them, the baby dragons would imprint on him the moment they hatched.
Which was fine, he’d raised an orphaned whelp before when its mother died days later after being attacked by a raging male.
But taking care of one was a difficult task on its own, triplets were another matter entirely.
“You should stay here…with them.”
Kjeld startled at the sound of Caelian’s hoarse voice, lurching out of his chair to face the bed.
She peered over at him, the velvet blanket tucked under her chin, the dark blue of her eyes colder than he’d ever seen them.
Clearing his throat, he padded across the room to stand at the edge of the bed. “You’re awake.”
It was a stupid thing to say for obvious reasons, and an apology burned on the tip of his tongue, scalded the back of his throat as he swallowed it down.
“So it would seem.” Her gaze drifted to the hearth, where the flames licked up the walls of stone. “Unfortunately.”
Kjeld carefully lowered himself onto the edge of the bed near her feet, and she shrank away from him.
Her immediate distrust was a slap across the face, the sting of it continuing to linger as seconds of thickening silence passed between them.
He clasped his hands together between his knees, daring a look over at her, only to see the shadow of wariness harbored in her gaze.
He scratched at his scruff, hating that he couldn’t tell if his concern for her was genuine or if it stemmed from the magnitude of her magic.
It was impossible to know one from the other, but her power had taken control of his life, and it made him feel trapped.
Like no choice he made was truly his own.
“Caelian, I—”
She sat up abruptly, and he stopped himself from reaching for her, squeezing his hands together until he nearly shattered the bones in his fingers.
“Don’t.” She threw back the blanket and climbed out of bed, shoving messy wisps of hair out of her face.
Her nightgown was rumpled as she swished across the floor, the sheer gray highlighting her curves, so her body was illuminated in the glow of firelight.
“I will not apologize again for my transgressions against you, as I have attempted to do so numerous times and you refuse to hear them. But you should know my magic is slowly returning to me…somehow.”
He opened his mouth to respond, to ask how, but she didn’t give him the opportunity to speak.
Caelian straightened, rolling back her shoulders, and Kjeld made every effort to keep his gaze trained on her face. “I am not capable of altering the past, but I…I heard your wish.”
He blanched, pressing his hands into the mattress as he pushed off the end of the bed. “What do you mean, you heard my wish?”
“You wished you had never laid eyes on me.” She lifted her chin, her fingers toying with the thin ribbons of silk. “As I said, I cannot grant such a wish because my magic does not mesh with the whims of time. But once it is fully restored to me, I will undo what I can.”
He stepped toward her, but she raised her hand between them, a silent warning for him to stay far away. “Cae—”
“No. You were right, you see.” She reached for the handle of the adjoining bathing suite, her shoulders drooping on a small sigh.
Tucking a piece of icy pink hair behind her ear, she looked at him then, fully.
Determination hardened the usually soft lines of her face.
“I gave you a life you never wanted, and while I doubt you’ll fall dead once I reverse my wishes, make no mistake…
you will be free from me forever. You will no longer be fae. And you will no longer love me.”
She slipped into the bathing suite without another word, leaving Kjeld to consider all she had said.
It should thrill him, the prospect of being released from his fae form.
But he was gradually becoming accustomed to the way his senses were amplified.
It had taken time but he was growing, adjusting, and learning to use them to his benefit.
Not only for himself but for others. The pointy ears he could do without, but they weren’t too terrible.
And as for being stripped of desire for Caelian…
if anything, that should have overwhelmed him with immediate gratitude and relief.
Yet, it felt wrong. Like part of his heart was being carved out, butchered into a thousand tiny pieces.
He absently rubbed his hand over his chest, easing the sudden ache that threatened to crush his lungs.
He told himself it was better this way. For both of them.
He was going to get what he wanted, what he thought had been taken from him.
For months he’d pined over the loss of his mortality, cursing Caelian’s name every night even while dreaming of her naked beneath him.
But now he knew it was merely a fantasy, a desire that never truly belonged to him, but was instead conjured by the magic of wishes.
She was finally going to release her hold on him, and he should be grateful for it.
In fact, he should thank her.
Kjeld held his breath and listened. The rushing sound of water filled his ears, along with the delicate beat of Caelian’s pulse. On the other side of the door, she was humming a tune he didn’t recognize, a slow sort of melody that reminded him of sleepless nights and star-filled dreams.
He rapped his knuckles gently against the elegantly carved wood.
The humming stopped, and he gradually nudged the door open, just enough to peek his head inside. A rush of flowery steam engulfed him, the warmth of it soothing his skin. He inhaled, sorting through the scents of freshly picked roses and lilacs, sifting through to the hidden layers of her.
“Did you need something?” she asked, her voice floating to him from behind a large door of smoke-colored glass.
His gaze darted toward her without hesitation, and his mind emptied of all rational thought.
Oh, Kjeld had seen her naked before. Twice, because he was keeping count, but this was different.
This time she evoked a kind of confidence in her nudity.
Standing inside an enclosure of shadowy glass with a waterfall of hot water sluicing over her flushed flesh, she watched him watch her.
Suds of creamy soap slid between the valley of her breasts, gliding down her flat abdomen, soothing the scars that marked her.
She cocked one hip to the side as she scrubbed her hair, lathering the silky strands while she piled them on top of her head.
Caelian’s sapphire eyes held him captive, and he found himself unable to look away.
He wanted to commit every inch of her to his memory.
The swell of her breasts. The dip of her full hips.
That perfect little spot at the hollow of her throat.
Because he knew he would never get the opportunity to see her like this again.
“If you aren’t in need of anything, then I suggest you leave.” She turned then, letting the rush of water rinse the shampoo from her hair, the bubbles drifting down her spine and over the curve of her ass. “I don’t appreciate being gawked at by males who want nothing to do with me.”
“Thank you,” he blurted the words out, ripped them from his soul.
She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze snapping to him, and the look on her face was vicious and sharp. “Excuse me?”
“I wanted to thank you, my lady.” He rolled his neck, then popped his jaw, his nails digging into the delicately carved wooden door. “For…agreeing to release me once your magic is fully restored.”