Page 118 of Song of the Dark Wood

“I’m still mad at you,” she rasped.

“Be as mad as you want, love. As long as you’re in my arms when you do it.”

He tore through the Dark Wood as quickly as he could, careful not to jostle her too much. She faded in and out of consciousness against his shoulder. It was hard to stay awake for long. She began to worry she’d lost too much blood.

“You’re mine, Rowan,” Conor whispered as they passed through the keep gates.

“And what if I don’t want to be?” she rasped. “What if I want you to be mine instead?”

“Can we not say both are true?” Conor challenged.

“I’m not sure we can,” she sighed as they stepped inside the warmth of the foyer. She looked up at him. “I may not have you yet, but I will.”

Conor didn’t disagree as he climbed the stairs and carried her into her room.

He doted on Rowan as one of his ghostly servants drew her a hot bath. He knelt in front of her, rubbing her small, cold hands between his much larger, warmer ones.

She didn’t want to meet his eyes. Whatever he’d said when he thought he would lose her was irrelevant. He told her what he needed to manipulate her at the moment. It didn’t mean anything. It was just a strategy. She felt like she had whiplash from being pulled so close, tossed away, then pulled close again. She didn’t want to give him anything more of herself. She didn’t want to think about the way Sarai’s words reverberated through her head when she saw the distraught look on Conor’s face.

Love is what holds back the dark.

Was it love for Conor that helped her break through Valen’s control? She didn’t want it to be true. Love was not something she could afford. So she kept her eyes fixed on where Conor held her hands.

“Rowan, look at me,” he pleaded softly. The desperation in his voice was compelling.

She shook her head as he switched to warming her bare feet between his palms.

“Fine,” he sighed. “I’ll clean you up and put you to bed.”

He helped her to her feet and into the washroom. The servant left them alone, and exhaustion pressed down hard on Rowan. She leaned into Conor involuntarily. He gestured for her to lift her arms, and she didn’t argue as he slipped off her red silk nightgown. Finally, she met his eyes and he held her gaze, not even daring a glance at her body.

She stepped into the tub and sank into the blissfully hot water. She leaned her head back against the tub and sleep instantly threatened to drag her under.

“Conor, I might?—”

“It’s all right. I won’t let you fall asleep. I have you, Rowan,” he whispered as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

He used a warm cloth to carefully clean the blood from her neck and chest before washing her hair. It felt divine and strangely intimate to let him bathe her. It was unnatural, and she felt exposed beyond her bare skin.

When he was finished, he helped her out of the tub, now full of water pinked with her blood. Conor patted her hair dry before helping her into a clean nightgown and tucking her into bed.

He lay beside her, his hand resting on her chest, thumb gently stroking her collarbone.

“You have a lot of explaining to do,” Rowan sighed. Her eyelids fluttered and her head nodded against the pillow. Fatigue and anger warred in her, and she wasn’t sure which would win.

“Rest, Rowan. I’ll be here for you to yell at when you wake up,” he said, brushing a lock of hair back from her forehead.

“I’m scared,” she whispered as her head lolled and her eyes fluttered closed.

“Don’t worry, lass. I won’t let you sleepwalk again,” Conor assured her.

Rowan didn’t have the energy to tell him that she wasn’t afraid of sleepwalking into the Dark Wood. She was scared ofhim, but for none of the reasons she should have been. Her anger was the only barrier holding back the feelings that would shatter the delicate truce they’d reached. She was scared of what she felt and what it was becoming.

Sarai was wrong. Love wasn’t what held back the dark—it was what waited in the shadows to devour her.

Rowan woke disoriented,her head pounding like her brain was trying to escape her skull. Trying unsuccessfully to roll over, she groaned. It took her a moment to realize the reason she couldn’t move was that Conor was holding her too tightly against his body.

“Take it easy, lass. We don’t know how much blood you lost. Let me get you some water,” he said as he reached for a glass on the nightstand. He helped her sit so she could sip the water.

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