Page 31 of A Heart of Ice and Shadow

He didn’t know what this meant. He didn’t even entirely know how to comprehend it, but he felt it so deeply it threatened to unravel him. They’d not even coupled, and he felt more exposed than he’d ever thought possible. The way she’d come undone was not what he’d expected. It was raw and vulnerable and tender.

He swallowed, opening his eyes once more. Despite himself, Sirus wrapped his fingers around her slight wrist and gently moved it up so he could see. All that remained was a jagged, dark pink line where he’d dug his teeth into her flesh. He ran his thumb over it, feeling the raised scar. She nuzzled her face deeper and let out a heavy, satisfied sigh.

Conflict roiled within him. She shouldn’t want him. Trust him. Care for him. He’d had all those thoughts before. She should not, but she did. His chest ached as he looked at that little scar. He wasn’t worthy of her affection. The jagged line on her arm was proof enough. Yet, she’d opened herself to him. It had not been mere lust that had brought them together. Not simple desire, like it had been in Abigail’s garden. No…this was something far more precious.

The way she’d held on to him as she’d come apart. He’d felt her violent shudders. Had felt the skitter of magick that came with them. Sirus knew he should push away the emotions that raked over him. That he should not entertain such things. But, by gods, he could not find the desire to do it. Not as he held her. Not after what they’d shared, as brief as it had been.

Love. The word slipped through his mind, foreign and sharp. The idea of it was strange, but his chest swelled in response. This bond he felt between them…Did she feel it just as he did?

Sirus was not even sure it was possible for someone such as he to love. For someone with a soul of shadow and a heart of black ice to feel such a thing. But he knew, without a doubt, that if he could love, he would love her.

The light to his shadow.

Grief tore through him. He knew it could never be. That she could never be his. He mourned that fantasy to the very depths of his being as he leaned in to press his nose into her damp hair. The snow fell over them, and he barely noticed it. For eternity, he would simply hold her like this if he could…but he couldn’t.

Gwendolyn might not fear him. She might desire him. Care for him…His throat grew tight, and he would not let himself think of anything more. That she could feel anything deeper than care.

Fates and bonds were things of legend and lore.

They were not real.

The harsh truth was, even if Gwendolyn wanted him now, she would not choose him forever. She would grow tired of his darkness and seek out the light. She would crave real love. She would desire a family. Children.

He imagined little chestnut-haired girls and boys coated in freckles and fair skin running through the forest. Sirus’s muscles began to loosen and his trembling to subside. He would not dare to take such a dream from her. Such joy.

Sirus held her closely, breathing in the scent of her hair, relishing the touch of her skin against his and the soft heat of her breath on his shoulder. He burned it into his memory, knowing it would be all he’d ever have. Soon she would leave Volkov forever. No matter how much he wanted her, he knew there was no future for them beyond this moment. There were no happy endings for vampires.

There was an ache deep within his chest, a foreign sensation that was not exactly pain but hurt all the same. He rested his cheek against the top of her head, letting the ache seep through him. What would come next, he did not know for certain, but he knew he would never regret this. He’d never regret their time together. To his dying breath, he would think of her.

“You are light,” he whispered into her hair in the old tongue of his forefathers. “You are color. I am yours.” And he always would be.

Even if she could never be his.

Chapter Nine

It was embarrassing. Mortifying. She’d fallen asleep. For how long, she had no idea. Gwen’s cheeks burned as she and Sirus crunched along the path back toward the castle. She didn’t know what this meant.

Sirus had woken her delicately, and all she could feel at first was horror that she might have drooled on him—she hadn’t, thank goodness. Sirus had suggested they return, and Gwen hadn’t known what to say other than, “Sure.”

Her head was swimming. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Each step was a cacophony in her ear, reminding her that she wasn’t talking. They hadn’t discussed what happened. Sirus had barely said anything. Did he regret it?

Gwen glanced at him as he plodded along, his shirt and hair coated in snow. His eyes were locked ahead. She didn’t think he regretted it. He hadn’t pulled away from her or made her feel awkward, but he hadn’t exactly been warm either.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. The silence loomed. It was driving her nuts.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted, awkward and loud.

He stopped and turned to look at her.

Shit. Her cheeks burned, and she looked away. “I’m sorry you—uh—didn’t get much out of that,” she fumbled. What the hell was wrong with her? Gwen wanted to dunk her head in the snow, if only it were deep enough yet to do it.

Sirus let out a deep breath that drew her eyes up. His gaze locked on hers, and he took a single step to fill the gap between them. Her heart fluttered. As he stared down at her, there was a darkness in his eyes that made her insides turn liquid. “I enjoyed it very much,” he told her, the words low and gravelly. He looked to her lips. “Every moment.”

Well…that was something. His words made her cheeks flame and her insides grow hot and gooey. She swallowed a lump of air. For a moment, she thought he might kiss her, but a sharp wind cut through and she shivered, bracing against the growing cold and quickly falling snow.

“Come,” he encouraged her. “Let’s get you warm.”

Soon they were standing inside the east wing, brushing snow off themselves. Gwen looked to Sirus. Sirus looked to her. The silence loomed like a two-ton elephant.

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