Page 45 of Strange Familiar

Her own lips curved at the image, the tenderness she felt for him almost overwhelming. She could nearly weep for losing this, for not having him. But she’d gone too far down a dark path. Even Cillian couldn’t forgive her the things she’d done, the way she’d used Brinda, how she’d treated the boys. How quickly she’d fallen into treating those familiars like her private feast. She couldn’t bear for Cillian to see how truly awful she was.

She shifted restlessly and he slid out of her, that primal, intimate connection disrupted. Cillian didn’t move, his weight on her, his gaze expectant as he waited for her to look at him. Finally, knowing he’d outwait her, she met his eyes, expecting gentleness and affection, not the expression of steely determination he focused on her.

“I won’t pressure you about any of that,” he told her, “but when I leave in the morning, you’re coming with me.”

~ 22 ~

Her naked body beneath him, Alise’s tension, which had been gradually increasing since that final, delicious climax, suddenly leapt to high intensity, as if she were a bird that might take flight. Also like a bird, however, her delicately boned body easily yielded to even his meager strength. “I’m not taking no for an answer,” he warned her and her lushly fringed, wizard-black eyes sparked fury at him.

“How can I say no when you didn’t even ask the question,” she spat.

“Alise, will you come away from House Elal with me?”

“No!”

He sighed, dropping his forehead to her bosom. “I’m not taking that answer.”

“What happened to not pushing?” she demanded. Her magic heated with the room, the wine scent intoxicating, the feel of roses so palpable he almost expected the prick of thorns. But she didn’t use her wizardry against him, which he counted on. Alise might not want to admit she loved him, just as she had pretended to be entertaining the courtship of those fawning familiars, but he knew her through and through. He saw the goodness, the kindness, the generous heart in her, even if she didn’t. The way she’d responded to him, first the touch of hands, then the kiss, then the ardency of her lovemaking—it all erased any doubt he’d harbored.

And there was no way he would leave her here. Her father had tried to warp her into his mold. Given more time, he might even succeed. Cillian didn’t know what methods Piers Elal had used to change his daughter’s thinking, but he doubted Alise had been aware of them.

“I said I wouldn’t push about our relationship. Even though you were the one to propose that we have a love affair,” he reminded her, not above needling her, rather enjoying her embarrassed and annoyed flush.

“That was a long time ago.”

“A few months isn’t a long time.”

“Time and place,” she snapped, making a sudden furious attempt to wriggle out from under him. He was very glad that he’d been the one to set the privacy shield. She’d done it to demonstrate her unwillingness to talk privately, but had ended up handing him leverage. If she got mad enough, she might’ve tried to dispel the shield to end this interlude. “That was then; this is now and I’m not going anywhere with you, Cillian Harahel.”

“You could always come back,” he said reasonably, calmly, willing her to listen. “What are you afraid of?”

“Not you,” she countered, glaring, her struggles subsiding.

“Well then. Come with me.”

“I can’t.”

“You can,” he insisted. “Remember? Not a prisoner.”

“Cillian, you don’t understand.” Tears welled in her eyes, though she tried to sniffle them back, and he suspected he understood far too well.

“Maybe not,” he told her gently, kissing the tears from the corners of her eyes where they leaked out. “Maybe you can never tell me all that happened to you here, but I do understand that I can’t leave you here, all alone, with that monster.”

“He’s not so bad,” she protested, though weakly.

“Yes, he is. And the fact that you even say that makes me more determined to get you away.”

“Cillian…” She’d begun crying in earnest, so he shifted to the side, cuddling her close, no longer needing to keep her from flying away. “I’m not a good person.”

Though he wanted to deny it immediately, he knew it would make more impact if he took her seriously, gave her a thoughtful answer. “I think that maybe none of us are good or bad people,” he said slowly, “only the actions we take and how that affects us, others, and the world.”

She’d buried her face against his chest, so he stroked the short, silky feathers of her black hair. So infinitely precious to him. “That sounds like an excuse,” she said, muffled. “And, besides, I’ve done bad things. You don’t know what I—”

“Shh.” He kissed the top of her head. “You can tell me another time, if you still want to. But you should know I don’t care. I love you no matter what.”

She gave a watery laugh and pulled back to look at him. “Yes, well, you loved Szarina and look what a shit she turned out to be.”

“I never loved Szarina,” he told her gravely, then kissed her, tasting salt and regret and fear on her lips. “I only knew real love when I met you.”

---