Heart of the Fae (The Otherworld #1)(64)

She did none of that. Sunshine, Sorcha, did none of those things. She blinked a few times, focusing on his form in the shadows, and then a soft smile spread across her face.

In that moment, she gutted him. No one had looked at him like a person in such a long time, without pity or fear. She just opened her eyes and smiled at him. As if he was finally where he belonged.

“I had a feeling you might come back tonight.” Her voice was raspy as if water filled her lungs. Right on cue, she coughed into her fist.

“It’s not unusual to fall ill after attempting to take your life.” Why did he say that? Eamonn dug his fingers into the crystals on his opposite wrist. Always picking a fight, especially when worried.

“Oh, hush, you know that’s not what it was. I need my things,” she said when she stopped coughing. “I have a tea for this.”

Eamonn gestured towards the small table he had set next to her pile of furs. “Anise, honey and mulled wine.”

She glanced over at the steam rising from the porcelain cup and back to him. “Yes. Thank you, that’s exactly what I needed.”

“Don’t look so surprised. Healing humans is not so different from the Fae.”

“I guess it isn’t.” She pulled herself up, catching the furs against her chest and shoving the heavy mass of her hair back. “You know the healing arts?”

“A small amount. I watched my nursemaid as a child.”

“Clever.”

“I never claimed otherwise.” He watched her sip the tea, her face scrunching up. “Bitter?”

“I just don’t like the taste of anise. Never have.”

“It will help.”

That soft expression returned to her face, eyes half lidded and lips quirked to the side. “Yes, it will.”

He didn’t know what to say when she stared at him as if he brought all the stars in the sky to her. It was tea. Nothing more, nothing less.

They stared at each other until his heart raced. Eamonn couldn’t piece together why he was so affected. Then his eyes traced the line of her shoulders. Bare and pale as the moon. Tiny freckles dotted her skin, more than he had counted on her face. He hadn’t seen those.

How badly did he want to connect those dots? Enough to clench his fists and lock the muscles of his legs, restraining himself from leaning forward and tugging the furs away. He had forgotten to bring her anything to wear.

Bless his forgetfulness.

“Are your visitors gone?” she asked.

“Excuse me?” His mind had been elsewhere. There were freckles dotting her arms, so it would make sense if they spread to her legs as well. Was she freckled everywhere?

“Your guests, the dangerous ones. Have they left?”

“Yes.”

“Is it safe for me to wander your halls again?”

“I—” he shook his head to clear it. “No, it’s never safe to wander the castle halls. There are many hidden secrets and spirits who keep them.”

“I haven’t met a spirit yet, just faeries.”

“Then you are lucky.”

“This place is one of the strangest I have ever seen. Spirits wandering the castle at night. Faeries in the kitchen. You do keep strange company, Stone.”

His name hovered on the tip of his tongue. Just once, he wanted to hear her say his name. His given name. But he knew how dangerous it would be to tell her. A human in possession of a faerie's name was bound to use it.

Even that danger would be worth hearing her lilting voice caress the syllables of his born name.

If he was any other man, he might have told her, but he buried the desire for the safety of his people. Eamonn was a creature bred for war and destruction. He could not take the risk.

She leaned forward and coughed again. His fists clenched, reminding his mind that she could take care of herself. She was human and not worthy of his instant reaction.

His father’s voice echoed in his mind. She was beneath him. A base creature on par with the lesser Fae. Ignore her struggles, but use her as a servant or slave when the time was right.

He’d never believed those words.

Eamonn stood and settled next to her on the bed. Her bare back shook, ribs expanding until he could see the bumping lines before hacking out air in the next second.

His hand was so large against her skin. It spanned the entirety of her back, rubbing gently back and forth. He did not pound, that wouldn’t help, just tried to comfort as his nursemaid used to do.

“Thank you,” she said on a sigh. “I’m sorry, I didn’t expect a simple dip in the sea to affect me so.”

“That was more than a dip.”

“Venture?”

“Mistake.” He caught himself again. Why was he so cruel to her? He couldn’t understand why he tried to make it an argument every time she spoke. Other than the red peaks of color on her cheekbones that he so thoroughly enjoyed.

Eamonn didn’t clench his fists this time. He reached and ran a finger over the high arches of her cheeks, tracing the spaces between freckles.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“I haven’t the faintest idea.”

He could get lost in those eyes. Green like ivy leaves, like moss when the sun first strikes after days of rainfall. How was she holding him captive? Had she cast a spell on him?