Occasionally, more troubling thoughts about him would plague me. Lying in bed at night, sweating from the Alabama heat, I’d find myself sifting back farther in my memories, to the time when he and I had been involved. I was rapidly reaching a point in my pregnancy where sex sounded like the least appealing thing ever. But in my memories, it was still easy. There had been a lot of nights in the Thorn Land, when Dorian had been with me and we’d lain in bed in similar kinds of heat, sweaty and restless. Even in those conditions, we hadn’t been able to keep our hands off of each other. His skin had felt like fire against mine as he moved in me, his mouth equally hot wherever it touched me. The heat around us had seemed inconsequential to that between us.
Recalling that night did more than just torment my body. It tormented my mind. I still hadn’t gotten over the way he and I had parted. Dorian still cares about me. Dorian maybe even loves me.
How did I feel about that? How did I feel about him?
Although the weather in Huntsville remained hot, summer was winding down, and with its end, Evan would be returning to school. He began spending more time with me, still in that polite, hands-off way. Sometimes I’d catch him looking at me in a manner that made me nervous, and I feared some outpouring of affection. It never came, showing he was just as patient and content as he’d claimed to be. He further proved the point while we were out fishing one day.
I’d never been fishing before. It wasn’t something you really did a lot of in Tucson. We were out on a small, quiet lake ringed in willows, in a no-frills motorboat that had just enough room for us, our catch, and a cooler stocked with Coke, juice, and Milky Ways. Evan was very critical about everything we caught, and it was important to him that we caught no more than we could eat. Anything else was a waste, he declared.
“Uncle Chuck makes a mean batter for these,” Evan told me. “We can have a fish fry tonight.”
That sounded great to me then and there. I was starving, but then, I always seemed to be lately. My appetite had shot up out of nowhere these last couple weeks, much to Candace’s delight. While I certainly didn’t try to halt my eating, every extra bite was a reminder that I was going to get bigger and bigger. As it was, my weight had shot up exponentially too. It was still mostly confined to my stomach, but every day, I felt a little slower and a little more uncomfortable.
I finished off a Milky Way to curb my hunger, fully knowing no obstetrician would endorse it as sound nutrition. I chased it with a thermos of cider, giving me a brief flashback to the Oak Land harvest parties. Those bonfires and crisp nights, paired with Dorian’s smile, seemed like a lifetime away.
“I think there are some rules about pregnancy and fish,” I told Evan, returning to the present. “It’s probably in one of the pamphlets the doctors gave me.”
“Ah, that’d be a shame,” Evan said, casting his line out. A breeze off the water eased some of the heat and ruffled his hair. “If you can’t have any now, we’ll make sure you have a double helping after the babies come. If you’re still here, that is. Have you thought much about it?”
I watched my own bobber drift lazily in the water. As far as I could tell, I was doing exactly what he was with technique, but he kept catching more fish. “Honestly, no. Mostly I’m just trying to get through the pregnancy, but I’ll have to figure out the rest soon enough.” I sighed. “Do you think I should stick around?” It was a foolish question, I realized, seeing as he didn’t have nearly enough background to understand the consequences of that decision.
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter what I think. I like having you here, but in the end you have to do what you want and what you think is best.”
I almost laughed. “I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me before.”
“What’s that? To do what you want?” His bobber disappeared in the water, and he gave the line an experimental tug, revealing he’d indeed hooked another fish. Damn. How’d he keep doing that?
“Yup,” I said. “I’ve had a lot of well-meaning people in my life, but most haven’t been shy about telling me what they think I should do.”
Evan reeled the fish in and deemed its size adequate. “People will always do that—and you said the magic words. Well-meaning. Most have good intentions for you at heart, but only you can make the final call.”
I thought back to the last time I’d seen Kiyo, when he’d been trying to kill me in an effort to stop our children from being born. That didn’t really qualify as “good intentions.” Dorian’s heavy-handed protection of me had looked out for my well-being, but it had been tainted with his own ambition. If push came to shove, I still wasn’t sure if he’d side with me or the prophecy. And yet, even as I thought that, I remembered our last meeting, when Dorian had admitted to having no ulterior motives, save to make me happy and rebuild our trust. It was hard to know what to believe anymore.
Evan assessed our tally for the day and decided we had enough fish. “Don’t want to be greedy,” he said with a wink. “Need the fish to keep making more fish. Now we’ll find out if you’re allowed to have the best fried fish in the state.”
A little Internet searching back at the house provided info on fish types and local waters that declared I could eat small quantities. Fortunately, the Reeds made an abundance of side dishes and desserts that ensured what I lacked in fish, I could definitely make up for. I went to bed happy and full, still turning over Evan’s words about doing what I thought was best. Such a novel concept.
The next day, I was left alone for most of the afternoon while everyone else tended to their own affairs. E-mail and calls were few, though Candace assured me we’d see a surge when summer truly ended and people spent more time inside. So, it was another reading day for me, and I tried to make myself as comfortable as I could on my bed, something else that was becoming more difficult with my size. No breeze came in to cool the afternoon heat, and I mostly found myself growing sleepy.
Suddenly, the temperature dropped sharply in the room, raising goose bumps on my skin. I’d been nodding off but instantly opened my eyes, wide awake. There was nothing natural about this. Shit, I thought, sitting up. Here it was, the attack we’d been dreading. And I was weaponless because I wasn’t supposed to be practicing any magic. Well, I didn’t need tools to use my gentry magic. If they were bringing the fight to me, then there was no need to remain covert—
“Volusian?” I asked in disbelief. Red eyes and a small black body materialized in the room’s darkest corner, which really wasn’t all that dark this time of day. He glared at the sunlit window in irritation. I’d been a heartbeat away from summoning a storm in the room and immediately stopped myself.
“Mistress,” he said in his flat tone.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded. “I commanded you not to come!”
I also hadn’t told him where I was, but that made no difference. With his bonds of service, Volusian would always be able to locate me. Still, I figured not giving him any concrete information beforehand would be useful, in the event someone attempted to wrestle control of him from me. Likewise, I’d commanded him to avoid the Otherworld altogether, in the hopes of keeping him off the radars of those who might try to use him.
“Yes, mistress,” he agreed. “And were it up to me, I assure you, I would stay out of your presence for as long as possible, unless I was coming to end your life and rip you limb from limb.”
“Well, that’s very thoughtful,” I said. “And yet, here you are.”
“Others forced me to, mistress.”
I’d nearly relaxed, but this set me on high alert again. Sending my mind out, I tested the magical bonds that kept him under my control, half expecting them to have vanished. But no, we were still solidly connected.