We start moving quickly then, and as we round the corner that leads to this wing’s sitting room and the staircase, I’m already looking for Declan. It turns out he’s right where I left him, looking more uncomfortable than I’ve ever seen him. A woman is sitting on the couch next to him, her arms wrapped around him while he tries to extricate himself from her embrace.
A bunch of different emotions hit me at once, but before I can do anything but stare, Declan pulls out of the embrace. Then he scoots back against the arm of the couch, obviously trying to put distance between himself and the woman currently clinging to him like Saran Wrap.
Considering the way she follows him across two cushions, I’m not sure she gets the message. Which is fine. I’ll be happy to deliver it myself.
I start forward before I’m even aware of moving. I don’t normally consider myself a possessive person—I never have been with any man before—but I find with Declan I am. Though I tell myself to chill out, there’s a part of me that wants nothing more than to cover that bitch with honey and stake her over the nearest mound of fire ants in the backyard.
A quick glance at Rachael assures me she’s in good hands, and after checking to make sure the guard is going to take her to her room so she can rest, I head into the sitting room. Magic is sizzling along my nerve endings—the first time that’s ever happened to me when someone wasn’t dead or dying—and I flex my fingers a few times in an effort to keep it under control. Inside me, the darkness gathers a little more. Throbs a little more in its bid for attention.
Once again, I shove it back down. After all, Declan doesn’t look all that happy to see her, whoever she is. . . .
I’ve only taken a few steps when Declan catches sight of me. It could be wishful thinking, but I’m pretty sure the look that just flitted across his face is relief. Thank God. I’m not normally an insecure girlfriend, but considering who Declan is and the fact that I don’t even know how to classify our relationship yet, a little insecurity seems pretty understandable. Still, he’s here with me, not her, and I have better things to do than worry about some woman whose name I don’t even know.
“How’s your father?” he asks, climbing awkwardly to his feet. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him be less than supremely graceful and it raises a warning flag, despite the reassurances I’d just given myself.
“We don’t know yet. My aunt Tsura’s with him now.”
“Oh, you’re one of Tsura’s nieces?” The woman who’d been crowding Declan stood up as well. “I’m Irya, Tsura’s assistant.”
Declan takes over, his voice as smooth and familiar as the arm he settles around my waist. “This is Xandra, my—”
“Girlfriend,” I fill in for him. “It’s nice to meet you, Irya.” I sneak a peek at Declan, curious to see how he’s handling the whole “girlfriend” thing. Surprisingly, he doesn’t look the least bit shaken. Instead, he looks pleased . . . and maybe even a little smug. Maybe it’s stupid to even be worrying about this stuff after we’ve already said the L word. All these semantics are just that. What’s important is that Declan loves me and I adore him.
“No, the pleasure is all mine.” She extends a hand to me. “It’s lovely to meet another one of Declan’s girlfriends.”
My eyebrows shoot up at that and she blushes a little, stutters out, “I didn’t . . . I just meant . . .”
Declan steps in. “Irya and I dated a long time ago. It didn’t work out, obviously, but we’ve been friends ever since.”
He’s looking at me, so he doesn’t notice the flash of irritation that crosses her face before she can bury it, but I certainly do. She’s playing him, acting all sweet and naïve in an effort to make him feel . . . what? I’m not sure. But it’s obviously working, because Declan, smart, savvy Declan, looks uncomfortable—and extremely apologetic.
I barely resist the urge to roll my eyes. I don’t even know this woman and I can see through her.
“It’s so nice to meet another one of Declan’s friends,” I say, smiling as sweetly as I can. “Especially one with ties to Tsura. I imagine being her assistant must be kind of wild.”
“It’s a whirlwind, all right.” Her voice is flat now, the mask she’s wearing for Declan’s sake beginning to crack.
Declan doesn’t seem to notice it. But that doesn’t matter, not when Declan excuses us with an impersonal smile and a few polite words. Then we’re walking away, his hand on my lower back as he propels me down the three flights of stairs and across the foyer.
“Hey,” I tell him, digging my heels in before he ends up pushing me right out the front door. “What was that all about?”
He lowers his head, brushes his lips against my ear. “I don’t like you near her. She’s a barracuda.”
A weight I hadn’t even known I’d been carrying around lifts from my chest. “I wasn’t sure you caught that.”
He laughs. “Caught that? Xandra, I dated that. It took me two months to extract myself from her very sharp, very sticky claws. I have no intention of letting her sink them into you.”
“I’m not the one she’s aiming for.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” he mutters under his breath, sounding completely disgusted, and the last of my tension drains away. I’m obviously being paranoid. He’s about as likely to fall back under Irya’s spell as I am.
So what freaked me out so much? The fact that Declan dated before me? The man is more than three hundred years old. Of course he’s dated. Besides, she’s not the first ex of his I’ve run across since this thing between us started.
But she is the only one who’s alive—his other ex, Lina, was the second of Kyle’s victims. When I stumbled upon her down by Town Lake in Austin, I had no idea where everything was going to lead. Had no idea it was going to lead us here.
Declan finally comes to a stop in the small parlor my mother uses for guests who are waiting for a royal audience. He closes the door behind us, then pulls me into his arms. Buries his face in my hair. And just breathes.
“How’s your dad really doing?” he asks long seconds later, his body a well of strength that I can draw from.
I shudder, press my face into his chest. And just breathe. He smells like sandalwood and cinnamon and warm, dark waters. If I could, I’d stay here forever, resting against him. Holding him as he holds me.
But not even Declan can destroy my family’s current reality. “Not good. Rachael’s all but killed herself trying to heal him—with absolutely no impact whatsoever. And my mother is in bad shape. I’ve never seen her so lost.” She’s so strong, so sure all the time that it’s strange, scary, to see her like this. My whole life, I’ve always thought that she was my father’s anchor, the one he holds on to when things get rough.
Yet after twenty-seven years, it’s strange to realize that it’s the other way around. That he’s what keeps her calm and settled and sure. Even stranger when I’m in the arms of the man who has quickly come to mean so much to me. Who is settling me, gentling me, just by his very presence.
I lift my head, wait for him to lift his. Then go up on tiptoes and press a soft kiss to his lips. Unlike so many of our others, this kiss isn’t about passion, about need, about the bindings that continue to grow between us. It’s about gratitude. Gratitude that he’s here with me now, gratitude for all the things he’s done for me—in the last few weeks and in the years when I had no idea what was going on.
I’ve carried a bitter fist of resentment with his name on it for years, one filled with anger and abandonment issues and fear that I’d never find another person who made me feel as he did. Fear that he’ll leave me just when I let myself care for him again.