Page 19 of Omen of ice
Keltania
Valen refuses to give an explanation about his first guard, and after his explosion, I don’t want to push. Not that it matters. She’s gone, and I’m here. He’s my responsibility now, and what I did obviously affected him. The guilt gnaws at me.
I shadow him for the rest of the day, waiting for another outburst. He behaves, though, eventually requesting that I accompany him back to the eastern section of the estate. There’s no hint of the wolf I came face-to-face with in the woods. It’s misplaced, but my disappointment is undeniable.
The creature, much like Valen himself, was stunning. The feral spark in the beast’s eyes, one that is uniquely his, makes me long to connect with nature the way my ancestors did. The idea of running my fingers through his snowy white fur, of understanding him in a way some humans never could, is as thrilling as it is impossible.
We wander the halls of the eastern wing, going from room to room. Valen peers inside each one, then moves on a moment later. Everything is immaculate and unlived-in. The only area that shows signs of wear is the large library at the south end of the wing, the depreciation obvious in the books on the shelves. Most of the spines are cracked and worn, the bindings rubbed smooth and the letters faded.
I follow behind him, keeping a bit more distance between us than I had earlier. “What is it you’re looking for?”
He’s calmer now. Reasonable. For a moment in the hall, I worried he’d kill me. The frenzy in his eyes had been untethered, but he pulled himself back. Exercised restraint—which isn’t something that comes naturally to Fae. We’ve been taught they’re driven by magnified emotions. Everything is amplified. A simple argument can easily turn to war, just as an act of jealousy can effortlessly slip into a crime of passion. Ultimately, their heightened emotions ended up being their downfall.
Valen pokes his head into a medium-sized dining area. A long marble table sits in the center, set with elegant placings and silver goblets. “Sometimes when I have—when I get angry—there are unwanted side effects in the surrounding radius.” He nods to something on the other side of the room. “There. Such as that.”
I follow his gaze. The second chair on the far side of the table is white.
No. Not white. Frozen.
The closer I look, the clearer the steam is as its chill meets the warm air. “So, you didn’t do that on purpose?”
“No.” He glares at me. “That chair did nothing to me. The same cannot be said about others in this wing.”
Ouch…
He cranes his neck to see into the corner of the room, then spins in a slow circle.
“Is there something else you’re looking for?” Surely the amount of scrutiny he’s giving things has to be about more than frozen furniture.
“One of the cooks has a dog, Mouse. The timid thing has recently decided she likes this wing of the estate. Probably because it’s quiet.”
“You think you froze a dog?” There’s a good chance I’m going to be sick.
“Let’s hope not.”
The guilt wells up again, and I frown. What kind of an Aphelian am I? Not one deserving of Levina’s trust, that’s for sure. Torturing my Fae—possibly causing harm to a dog? “I’m sorry about that. If I’d known you’d get so upset—”
“I didn’tget upset.” He squares his shoulders and starts back down the hall. “I don’t like being confined.”
I stare at the chair for a moment before following him down the hall. “Is that why Orbik keeps you in a different part of the estate? In case you lose control?” Fewer people coming and going means fewer potential complications to worry about. It makes sense. Though I can’t imagine how lonely it must feel for Valen.
“That’s one of the reasons, yes.” Valen stops walking and turns. His lips twist, face contorting into a sour expression. The contrast to his usual grin makes him look like an entirely different Fae. “You don’t find me…unsettling?”
Valen is beautiful—strange eyes and all. If he weren’t mine to protect, things might be different between us. I’m not dead, after all. I can appreciate a stunning male.
Though strictly forbidden because of Servis and Aphelian and the events that led up to the Great Drain, relationships between Fae and their Aphelians still take place in the shadows. How can they not? We live with them, eat with them, share our lives… The Heartbreaker may quell deeper emotional attachments, but physical needs still remain. Everyone knows it happens, but no one brings it to light. It’s a dirty secret, a sinful pleasure. With the Heartbreaker, there’s no danger of a mutual claiming.
In my case, Valen and I are both inked. Double protection. If I were the kind of druid who allowed herself to blur lines… I shake my head and push the thought out. “If you’re fishing for what you believe to be another compliment, you can forget it.”
His lips twitch. There and gone in a half beat of my still-pounding heart. “And what you saw in the woods? Does that disgust you?”
“I’m a druid, Valen. That wolf is the one part of you that actually excites me.”
He steps close, locking his gaze on mine. “Really? That’s the part of me that excites you?” Lifting his arm, he flexes and grins. He puffs out his chest and, squaring his shoulders, pouts out his lips. “My rippled muscles and swoony swagger don’t do it for you? How about my delectably kissable lips?”
He’s trying to get a reaction, and the truth is, it’s hard not to give it to him. His lipsarekissable, his muscles ripped. But beneath his teasing, I can see something more. Something deeper that I force myself to focus on. There’s a vulnerability in the way he watches me, a rawness in his voice. It’s almost as if he’s afraid I’ll reject him because of the wolf—even though he swears he doesn’t want me here. It’s the first crack I’ve seen in his armor, and I’m desperate to open it up.
“Your uncle knows about the magic but doesn’t know about the wolf?”
