Page 28 of Shielded Heart

“You’re related to the volturians?” she asked, if only to get her mind off how beautiful he was.

“Sedhi are what many refer to as a hybrid species. We’re descended from volturians and tretins.”

“Tretins?”

“Yes. Large, mean things with a proclivity for conquering and enslaving entire species. You could probably consider yourself fortunate if you go your entire life without ever meeting one.”

Sam’s eyes widened.

Alkorin chuckled and trailed the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “Nothing you need to worry about, little terran. I won’t allow any such thing to happen to you. Now then, we must address the real issue here—once again, you’ve avoided answering my question to any reasonable degree.” He placed a finger beneath her chin. “What necessitated your coming to Arthos?”

The lightness of the day suddenly dissipated, allowing dark, heavy shadows to sweep in. She wanted to look away from him, but she couldn’t. How much could she tell him?

How much did she trust him?

She already knew she couldn’t trust the part of her heart that wanted to tell him everything, that wanted her to throw caution to the wind and leap into his embrace. It had betrayed her before.

Would it betray her again?

Arcanthus saw her mood shift—itwas an obvious change, and if she was capable of masking it, she made no effort. The light that had shone in her eyes snuffed out suddenly, and she seemed to sag as though under a great weight. The sight made his heart ache.

“I…needed a fresh start,” she finally said in a small voice.

He didn’t need to know much about terrans to tell that she didn’t want to discuss it further, that she wasn’t ready to talk about it. Everything he’d worked toward so far was threatened in that moment—and worse, he couldn’t bear the thought of having been the catalyst of her sadness.

“So, it seems we have similar stories,” he said, keeping his tone as light. “You said you were looking for work in the city. May I ask you a hypothetical question?”

Samantha nodded.

“If you could choose any sort of work to earn your living, what would it be? What is your ideal career?”

She was silent for several seconds before she said, “Art.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, but he didn’t give in to it yet. “Art. One might say you’ve made an art of being vague, little terran.”

That light sparked in her eyes again, delicate and tiny but undeniable, as she laughed.

“Tell me more,” he coaxed, brushing his finger across her jaw. His tail wound farther around her leg.

“I’m…not sure what to say. I had an old tablet as a kid that I carried with me into my adult years. My family… We didn’t have a lot. The tablet was a gift from my dad, who worked extra hours for months to save up for it, and Ilovedit. I’d draw on it for hours and hours. It was the only thing I really enjoyed, the only thing… The only thing that I feltgoodat.”

She raised her hands and glanced down at them as she fiddled with the cuffs of her sleeves. “But being poor…you’re not offered a lot of choices. I got my first after-school job in a restaurant when I was fifteen so I could help my father, and when I wasn’t working, I was helping care for my grandmother, who had taken a bad turn. I eventually had to quit my job to take care of her, but…she didn’t make it. After that, my old boss let me work at the restaurant again. I didn’t have the time, the energy, or the funds to pursue anything else. Once I graduated, I went to work fulltime, and picked up all the overtime I could. And then my father…”

Tears welled in her eyes, and Arcanthus’s chest tightened. He cupped her face in his hands and guided her gaze back to his. “Tell me about your art, Samantha. Tell me what you would like to create, about the beauty you want to bring into the universe.”

“Color,” she said, her voice weak and broken. “I love to paint and…and just focus on the way the colors work with one another, the way they complement and contrast each other. The way they subtly change each other and create…life.”

Something warmed within Arcanthus; it was far more than the constant state of desire and arousal she instilled in him, far more than sympathy or understanding. The sensation spread outward from his chest; he wanted to take her in his arms, wanted to kiss her, wanted to caress her, wanted to pledge his eternal loyalty and devotion to her. Samantha was a priceless, one-of-a-kind treasure.

And she was his.

My mate.

“That sounds delightful.” He brushed his thumbs across her cheekbones. “I hope you have the opportunity to chase that dream soon.”

He could set her firmly on that pathnow—could provide everything she’d ever need, could set her up so she could paint to her heart’s content—but he sensed that wasn’t what she wanted. More importantly, it wasn’t what she needed.

She smiled sadly. “I think it’ll only ever be that—a dream.”

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