Page 30 of Claimed By Night

He’s staring back at me with the same curiosity in his expression that I imagine must also be in mine. I don’t know him. At least, I don’t think I do, but there’s a void of blackness where my memories used to be.

As I study the man sitting beside me, I notice the brightness that surrounds him, almost as though his bronze skin glows. It’s only then that I realize how stunningly beautiful he is.

He’s a creature of the light, Eilish,the voice inside my head tells me.You can trust him. Youmusttrust him.

The beautiful creature parts his full lips and smiles warmly as he continues to stare at me. He appears to be in his early thirties, maybe. His eyes are the color of honey and they seem infinite in their depths. His dark blond hair is short, yet it curls around his pointed ears.

Pointed ears…

He’s fae. And the fae are friends to angels. Yes, I can trust him.

How I know any of this, I can’t say.

“We must leave,” the deep voice sounds from behind the man. I look over the fae’s head to see another man lurking behind him. He stands almost as tall as the ceiling and the reach of his shoulders is so broad, I imagine two of me could fit between them. Where the fae healer was surrounded by light, this creature is encircled by shadow. It weaves in and around him, coloring him with a darkness I find hauntingly alluring. He appears as though he’s older than the fae man but not by much.

I’ve seen him before. How, I can’t say, but his face brings me a sense of calm familiarity. He’s powerful, battle-worn and strength personified, but there’s a gentleness within him that speaks to me. I know he won’t hurt me.

He studies me in the same way the fae man did before him. With open admiration and… curiosity.

“Yes, you must take her and leave, before Variant finds you here,” the fae man instructs and scowls as he pulls his gaze away from me and, instead, focuses on something in the distance. He makes no move to stand.

You cannot allow him to leave you. You need both of them, the female voice booms in my head.

“Is she well enough that I can bring her with me?” the shadow man asks.

“The answer to that question is beside the point—you have no other alternative. She can’t stay here,” the fae man responds,refusing to look at me. I don’t understand why I can’t remain with him. He’s a friend, a comrade. And clearly, he just brought me back from the precipice of wherever I was.

He cannot leave you, Eilish. You need him.

As I study the fae man who refuses to so much as glance at me, a determination sets into me that I can’t deny. Whoever put those words into my head must also be in control of my body because before I know what I’m doing, I reach out and wrap my fingers around his wrist.

He looks at me immediately, his eyebrows arching in surprise. When our eyes connect, everything goes black for a split second. Then, I see images flashing through my mind. Images that make little sense to me:

This honey-eyed man looks down at me, watching me. I’m lying on a bed and he’s above me, his hands on either side of my head. His hair is disheveled and he’s out of breath. A thin sheen of sweat coats his entire body, causing that bronze skin to glitter. I can feel the heat of his body. I watch as his muscles tense and release as he moves above me.

Within me.

Yes, he’s buried deep inside me. His eyes never leave mine as he thrusts himself into me repeatedly. Each drive deeper than the last. I hear the sound of my own moan, which causes a smile to seize his mouth and he pushes into me even harder.

“My King,” I say to him and I can feel my smile.

His is beaming. “My beautiful Queen.”

“Enough!”

His voice interrupts the vision and I blink a few times once I’m transported back to the room with the fae man and the shadow man behind him. It’s then that I realize there’s a sprite circling above my head, and another man of shadow in the corner of the room.

The fae man stares down at me with a furrowed brow and I feel coldness beneath my fingers, whereas moments before they were wrapped around his wrist. He must have pulled away from me.

Touch him again, Eilish,the voice demands.You must know who he is.

I don’t give him a warning before I grab his hand, and even though I’m beyond weak, my grip is firm. Strangely, he doesn’t try to release himself. Instead, he eyes me with a reticent curiosity as though he wants to understand who and what I am but, at the same time, he doesn’t.

This time, the images hit me immediately.

The clashing of blades. The sounds of fists meeting flesh. The cries of the wounded. The smell of something burning.

A battle.

---