“There must be something I can do,” she says. “And, if not me, then maybe Paloma will know of something—or even Chepi, or Leftfoot, or Chay. Between the four of them, the elders are like a storehouse of remedies and magickal secrets.”
I swallow hard. Feeling a little choked by her words. And more than a little ashamed for doubting her. Daire’s a fighter. Loyal to a fault. She doesn’t give up on anyone.
I reach behind me, cup a hand to the outside of her thigh. “This is not one for the Seeker,” I say. “This is my mess to fix.”
“But—you’re still you, right?”
I gaze straight ahead, tracking the path Raven sets. “Yes,” I say, voice barely audible. “I’m still me—though a slightly changed version of me. I’m no longer pure goodness and light. The darkness inside causes me to feel differently—see differently…” I squeeze her leg, needing her to understand the magnitude of my words. “But there’s one thing that will never change.”
She stiffens behind me, as though prepared for the worst.
“My love and devotion for you.”
She exhales a soft breath, presses tightly against me, until I’m keenly aware of the swell of her breasts pushing hard at my back.
I close my eyes and release an involuntary groan. Wondering if she has any idea of the way her nearness affects me.
I’ve been weak for so long. Immersed in a bleak hellish world, haunted by regrets. But now, with my soul intact, with my life force thrumming within me, and the heat of Daire’s body insistently pressing against me, it’s all I can do to keep my desire contained.
I inch my fingers up the length of her thigh, cup a hand around her backside, and pull her even closer. Torn between reveling in the sensation of every curve and valley of her body conforming to mine, and trying to shield her from the depths of my need. Not entirely convinced I should initiate this when I’m not entirely me.
But when she slips a warm hand under my sweater and finds my flesh eager and willing—I forfeit the struggle. The world suddenly reduced to the only thing that really matters—the two of us being together.
“Daire—” My voice is hoarse, thick with craving. “Before we head back, what do you think about taking some time for ourselves? Take a little break from our problems? It’s not like they’re going anywhere.”
“You mean the Enchanted Spring?”
Her lips smile into my neck. Her fingers snake under my waistband, mold warm to my flesh. Her touch so sure and insistent, I’m hers to command.
“I’m pretty sure Horse and Raven are way ahead of us.”
With her free hand, she points straight ahead, and that’s when I realize that all of this time, our spirit animals have been leading us to these magickal waters.
Horse and Raven wander away, as Daire and I shed our clothes quickly and wade into the spring. She smiles, her face bright and happy, then placing a hand on each of my shoulders she dunks me under the water until we’re fully submerged. Only to emerge a few moments later, notably stronger, rested, and healed.
“Despite what happened last time we were here, I refuse to let Cade tarnish the magick we’ve shared here.” Her voice is soft but determined, her astonishing green eyes flashing on mine. “I refuse to let him dictate our memories, or the way we perceive things.”
I couldn’t agree more. But the sight of her standing before me—bared, glistening, and glorious, with droplets of water clinging like jewels to her skin—has rendered me speechless.
“I just want this place to be ours once again.”
She inches toward me, but like the starving man that I am, I get to her first. My fingers hungry for the feel of her flesh, my lips seeking hers. We kiss fully, deeply, our need for each other equally matched. And though I’ve yearned so long for this moment, it’s not long before I begin to want more.
I want to taste her sweet skin.
Immerse myself in her flesh.
Still, I wait until I’m sure that she’s ready. Until she whispers my name in a voice thick with need.
I lift her into my arms and out of the spring. Placing her upon a soft patch of grass, I steal a moment to admire the long, languid sight of her body, the sweep of her hair clinging damp to her shoulders, before I swoop down to join her.
“Dace,” she whispers, her lips teasing my ear. “What if it wasn’t a mistake? What if the darkness now living inside you is part of your fate?”
I pull away, peer deep into her eyes.
“If darkness defines the light—perhaps this will make you shine even brighter?”
I’m not sure if the words are meant to assure me or her, but her willingness to accept me, to seek the goodness in me just as I am, sends me over the top.