Visions (Cainsville #2)(120)

Gabriel chuckled. I looked at him, poised there, scanning the room, his body tense but his face relaxed, eyes glittering with the same thing I felt, adrenaline coursing through me, enjoying the adventure far more than I should. Gabriel glanced over, a smile playing on his lips, and for a split second the room faded and I was standing—

“Olivia?”

I snapped back to the kitchen and looked around, getting my bearings.

“Follow your gut,” he said.

I nodded and headed into the dining room. As I passed through it and into the living room, my gaze tripped along the friezes at the top, the magpies and the crows. I shone my light up at them. “That’s an answer, isn’t it?”

“To which question?”

“One about me. About the Carews and the Bowens. They have fae blood. I have it.”

He tilted his head as if to say, Was that really in question? I suppose I had already drawn that conclusion. I just hadn’t articulated it.

When we reached the top of the stairs, I didn’t pause to figure out where to go. Into the room with the triskelion owl inlay. The room where I’d seen the vision of the bean nighe.

I opened the blinds. Once again moonlight shone through all three shards of stained glass to light the owls.

“The last time I stepped into that circle, I saw a vision. Let’s see if I can do it again.”

I had to pass Gabriel, and when I did, he gave my hand a squeeze, so subtle I could almost believe our hands merely brushed. I offered a wan smile. Then I stepped into the circle and the room disappeared.

—

I woke on a balcony. It took me a moment to realize that, my senses coming to life in slow succession. Smell first, the rich scent of night and fire and, on the breeze, forest and hounds and horses. Sensation next, that breeze caressing my face, tugging at me. Then sound, the breeze whispering for me to come out and play. Come out and hunt. Finally sight, seeing the distant forest across a seemingly endless meadow.

I felt metal beneath my hands and looked down to see them gripping a railing that shimmered in the moonlight, bright gold inlaid with silver. When I blinked, the silver and gold seemed to ripple and I could make out moving images within. It was the most amazing thing, and I wanted to look closer, but my body wouldn’t move. Instead, I felt the pull of that forest and leaned over the railing, my hair blowing in the breeze as I strained to see . . .

“Matilda?”

I turned. Or, not me, just as it hadn’t been me straining over the balcony. I had wanted a closer look at the railing. Whoever’s body I inhabited did not. Now she turned to the open balcony doors. A figure stood in the darkness and her heart leapt. She laughed softly, as if to herself.

Will that never change? We’ll be married tomorrow, and I still feel this way every time I see him. The sun rises when he arrives and sets when he goes.

Except, sometimes, as warm and bright as that sun is, I long for night.

“Matilda?”

The man was still in shadow, but it did little to hide him. His skin glowed golden. His hair, too, shimmered with an unearthly light.

“Come in,” he said. “It’s cold, and it’s dark.”

“I’m going out. One last hunt.” She smiled and hoped it carried enough charm to fend off—

His lips curved in a frown. There was no anger in it. Just concern and, maybe, disappointment.

“You know you can’t. It’s our wedding day.”

“Not yet. We still have—”

“The clock has struck twelve. It’s the day. You agreed—”

“One last time. Before we’re wed. I won’t be long. It just . . .” She looked out at the forest. “It calls to me.”

“It will always call to you. Here calls to you. There calls to you. I call to you. He calls to you.”

She glanced back. “Arawn is a friend. Mine and yours. Nothing more. Never more. I’ve never been unfaithful, not in word or deed, not in heart or head.”

“There’s more than heart and head, Matilda.” He stepped forward, and I swore I could feel the warmth of him, more delicious than any fire. “You had to choose. I realize that’s not fair. It’s choosing between two halves of your soul. But that is what had to be. Mallt-y-Dydd. Mallt-y-Nos. That is your choice. Your fate. If you believe you chose wrong . . .”

“Never.”

She stepped into his arms, and as they wrapped around her, heat enveloped me, his lips coming to hers as his kiss consumed her, burned away every shred of doubt.

This is the right choice. It has always been the right choice.

His hands moved down to her waist, heat burning like wildfire in their wake.

“Let me make you my wife,” he said. “Now.”

“The ceremony—”

“No one will know.”

She wanted that, as she’d wanted nothing else in her life. Lust and desire and need. And love. She wanted to be with him for now and forever, and nothing else—

A hound bayed. She turned to follow the sound. She looked out and saw nothing, but she knew they were there, in the darkness. The hounds and the riders. The Cwn Annwn. Calling her back for one last ride. One last hunt. One last goodbye.

“Tonight,” she said as she pulled away. “I will be yours tonight. As soon as I return.”

He tried to grab her, but she was already out of reach. She ran. She heard him behind her, running after her, begging her not to do this.