“I love you,” I said as he dragged me toward our room. “Gods, I love you.”
And when he smiled back at me, eyes still blown out with lust, his grip on my hand tightening, I knew no one would take this away from me. Because I would get my happy ending. If it was the last thing I did.
And there, under the stars, he said, “I love you too. You and me, Sam. Always.”
Yeah. I had plans, all right.
I could talk to Morgan later.
Chapter 22: Something Wicked
SAM.
I’m here.
Sam.
See me.
See me for what I am.
I opened my eyes.
It was dark.
Ryan slept deeply next to me, arm hung heavily over my waist, legs tangled with mine. My skin felt slick with sweat. My heart was in my throat. Magic raced along my skin, and I was electrified because of it.
Something was pulling me. That hook in my brain. I thought maybe Zero had come to Mashallaha, but that didn’t feel quite right. Maybe it was Kevin. Maybe it was Ruv. I thought about ignoring it. I thought about curling back into the warmth of the man I loved and drifting away. It would be easy.
I didn’t.
I didn’t because—
“—WE LOVED him, Sam,” Morgan told me the day we left for the desert. He sat across from me in our labs in Castle Lockes. I was angry with him. With Randall. With Vadoma. But I was going to hear him out. I owed him that much, at least. “That’s something I need you to understand above all else. Regardless of what I tell you, regardless of what you hear, you must know that we loved him.” He sighed and looked down at his hands. “And I think it’s safe to say we love him still. I can’t speak for Randall, but… I’ve known him for a very long time.”
I said nothing. Not because I didn’t want to. No, of course not. I had never seen my mentor look so… defeated before. Broken down. I said nothing because I couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
“He was kind, but then that’s how we were raised. Our parents were powerful. Our father was a wizard. Our mother was… well. I don’t know exactly what our mother was. She was magic, yes, but it wasn’t like being a wizard. She wasn’t a seer. She wasn’t a fortune-teller. She was not a mage or a witch or any other form of magical being that I’ve ever come across. She defied description. I don’t know that there has ever been one quite like her before or since. The things she was capable of, Sam. Such beautiful things. You remind me of her, in that way. Magic is stringent. It’s governed by a specific set of rules. Those rules didn’t seem to apply to her.” He looked up at me with a quiet smile on his face. “Or to you. You’re alike that way. There is a power in you that I don’t know that I will ever understand. Like her. I’ve often wondered if she knew. If she knew what would become of us. Of what I, as her son, would have to do to Myrin, her other son. If she loved him even though his heart would become corrupted. If she did her all to correct the path he was set upon before she followed my father through the veil. By the time I’d thought to ask her, it was far too late. For all of us.”
Gods, how my heart hurt already. I almost opened my mouth to stop him. To keep him from speaking further about deceit and betrayal. I—
—MOVED QUIETLY, trying not to wake Ryan. It was probably nothing, this feeling I had. I was tired. We’d been through a lot. My mind was probably just playing tricks on me. It was nothing.
It was nothing.
The hairs on my arms stood on end. My skin was covered in gooseflesh. My eyes were wide.
Sam.
Sam.
Sam.
“What the hell,” I muttered.
I rose from the bed. Ryan mumbled something in his sleep, moving over to the spot I’d vacated, face pressed into my pillow. Firelight from the lamps around Mashallaha filtered in through the slats of the wall, illuminating his naked back, the blanket pooled at his waist. My heart tripped all over itself at the sight, and I reached down, trailing my fingers along his skin. He hummed quietly, leaning into the touch, eyes remaining closed.
“I’ll be right back,” I whispered.