Heart of the Fae (The Otherworld #1)(74)

Bran had disappeared. There wasn’t time to figure out what he was hiding. She took a deep breath, stilled the disquieting sadness in her heart, and left the Unseelie lands behind.





Chapter Ten





THE KISS





Leaving the Unseelie castle was more difficult than entering. The cold touch of the portal sent gooseflesh across Sorcha’s skin. Magic such as this should never touch a human. It slid along her body like the foreign touch of an unseen person.

Sorcha shuddered, unnerved by the cold, clammy sensation. It was over soon, or would be as soon as her left foot slid free. Ivy brushed against her face until she blew out a breath that stirred the greenery.

She fluttered a hand in front of her face, parting the curtain of ivy and entering the enchanting bedroom.

Nothing had changed. All her things were exactly where she had placed them. The blue flowers glowed with a soft light emanating from their petals on the far wall. The faerie fountain stared placidly off into the distance, hardly comparable to the real thing.

How could she ever look at this place with the same eyes? This island was beautiful, but the shadows now moved, and the bed looked like a prison.

She sighed and unhooked the clasp of her cloak. It fell to the ground with a wet thump although she didn’t remember getting it wet.

Exhaustion overwhelmed her. She couldn’t remember a time when it wasn’t hovering in the corners of her mind like an unwelcome house guest. She never remembered inviting the bone biting feeling, but it never seemed to leave.

A soft sound interrupted her thoughts. Sorcha couldn’t pinpoint where it came from in the room. Everything was how she left it, right down to the emerald leaves overlaying the walls.

Again, the shushing noise echoed in her ears. It was the distinct sound of fabric sliding against fabric. The movement of a human body.

Or perhaps that of a Fae.

She sucked in her breath and froze, shifting until the portal was no longer at her back. The air was too still, laced with violence and aggression. She’d never felt danger so powerfully.

Her heart beat. She breathed so quietly she hardly inhaled at all. Darting eyes searched for the cause of the sound as she wondered what’d followed her onto the isle.

A shadow peeled away from the wall, rushing towards her so fast that Sorcha didn’t have time to react. A pillar of darkness surrounded her. She slammed back into the stone wall, ivy tangling in her hair and around her shoulders.

Sorcha turned her head to the side and squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, look death in the eye. Taking one last deep inhale, she caught the scent of lemons, mint, and whiskey.

Stone?

His shaking hand brushed a coiled red curl away from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear.

“Where were you?”

The question reverberated in her mind, but she couldn’t find the words to answer. Questions of her own overpowered her tongue. How had he realized she left? Why was he here? What had happened while she traversed the Otherworld?

Was he drunk?

He stumbled, rocking sideways before catching himself with a forearm slammed against the wall above her. “Where were you?”

Again, he asked the same question. Anger made his words harsh, but she caught the distinct tones of worry underneath the growl. Why would he worry about her? She added the question to all the others she would never give voice.

“Unseelie lands,” she whispered.

“And why wouldn’t you ask me?”

“For what?”

“Guidance. Protection. An answer to whether or not it was too dangerous for an unarmed, weak, human woman in the Otherworld?”

Sorcha gulped. “I was unaware I might need any protection. There was no point when I felt like I was in danger. Until now.”

“You think you are in danger from me?” His head tilted and a spear of light slashed across his eyes. Twin lines wrinkled between his eyes, vibrant blue nearly glowing with anger.

She couldn’t respond. Her fear spiked the air with static electricity, making the hair on her arms raise. Of course, she was frightened of Stone. He loomed over her until all she could breathe was his scent and all she could see was the powerful set of his barreled chest.

“Sorcha.” He said her name as if it was a prayer. “You never have to be afraid of me.”

He lifted a hand and traced the outline of her face. Crystals scraped across her forehead, past the sensitive skin of her temple, down the soft curves of her cheeks. She couldn’t breathe as he thumbed the plump rise of her lips.

He swayed again, eyes squinting in concentration. “You are so flawed. So unlike my people who would have scrubbed these markings from their skin long ago.”

“Markings?”

“These,” he touched the peaks of her cheeks, her forehead, and the dip of her upper lip.

“Freckles,” she whispered. “We call them freckles.”

“I’ve never seen them before. The Fae have smooth skin, like porcelain, as if an artist had painted them with one tone. But you…you have so many colors.”

“Colors?”

“Your hair, your skin, even your eyes have flecks of green, blue, yellow.”

“You’ve noticed all of that?” She couldn’t stop asking questions. Shock twisted her tongue, asking questions she didn't mean to voice.