Page 35 of Blackwarden
He gave me a sheepish grin but didn’t answer.
I might have been more interested in the painting, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from his face as he stared back at me.
“Why? Why do you paint them?”
He took a breath, shoulders tightening, before he shook his head no.
I understood. There were so many things he couldn’t tell me, and now I knew it was because part of this curse was his silence. I looked back at the portrait. My green eyes held more life in them than my actual eyes usually did. He’d flawlessly captured the slight crookedness of my lips, the pink of my cheeks, the way my right eyebrow hung the tiniest fraction lower than the left.
“It’s beautiful,” I said.
“Only as beautiful as the subject.”
His compliment caught me completely by surprise, my eyes growing wide. Why was I seeing this Keres the night before I’d leave the Gatehouse forever. It surprised me more than the way he’d kissed me. He’d been delirious then, but he was most certainly of sound mind now.
“So, all those other portraits?” I hadn’t meant to frame it as a question. “You painted all of them.”
He nodded once, swallowing what I hoped wasn’t pain before glancing at my portrait again. I’d been right. My mind was tumbling over the reality that he’d been doing this—dragging maidens to his Hag Queen—for five hundred years. I stiffened. How old was he?
“It’s not perfect. I’m missing the mark on your neck.” He seemed to hesitate, looking down at the palette of paint sprawled across the small table to his right. Instead, he turned toward me so fast I leaned away from him. “The mark.”
He ran his fingers over it, letting them linger on my shoulder before trailing them down my arm to my hand. He wove his fingers between mine and took a step closer, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. I shivered at such a gentle touch from someone I hadn’t been certain was capable of soft kindness. He’d done such a good job of pushing me away that in that moment, believing he didn’t hate me was hard.
“I know you’re well aware that Dark Fae are not like humans. Like you’ve said before, we’re more susceptible to magic and...”
I couldn’t hold his eye contact and instead let my gaze rest on the center of his chest where his pendant peeked out from beneath his shirt collar.
“I didn’t intend to mark you. If the Hag Queen sees this, there will be consequences.” He took a step back from me and squeezed his eyes closed. “They’re my consequences, but she won’t hesitate to make them yours as well.”
I didn’t entirely understand, so I said nothing. Instead, I stared at him, mesmerized by the spectrum of emotions moving across his face before his eyes opened again.
He looked down at our joined hands. While I’d spent an embarrassing amount of time staring at him since coming to his Gatehouse, I hadn’t been quite this close for so long. There was a softness to his face, it made my fingers itch to touch him. An unnaturally beautiful quality to every line, every curve, and I wondered how much of his appearance had been shaped by magic to appear so perfect. How much of him was truly this gorgeous? When his eyes met mine, my body tightened, not expecting his crestfallen expression.
“I have to take you to the Unseelie Court tomorrow.”
“I know,” I said, tilting my face toward his, my eyes focusing on the shape of his lips as he spoke.
“You won’t recognize me there.”
I blinked hard a few times, confused. “Wait. What does that mean?”
“That’s all I can...” He closed his eyes in pain, and I knew that was more than I should have been told.
I reached without thinking, cradling his cheek with the palm of my hand. “I’d hope I could recognize you no matter what you look like.”
He smiled sweetly. “You’re not like the others.”
This drew my curiosity more than I wanted to admit.
“What?”
“Your questions, your emotions. I don’t know how but...” He leaned his face into my hand, his eyes slipping closed as he seemed to savor the feel of my fingers on his skin. “I feel awake for the first time in...” He trailed a hand up my arm to my shoulder as his gaze fell on my lips. “...entirely too long.”
I had craved this, his slender fingers tracing the lines of my neck to my jaw. He closed the distance between us, leaning down with slow intention until his lips gently brushed over mine. It was the softest touch before he pulled back, watching me, as if asking for permission. I gave it to him, leaning closer until our lips met. Languorous and lazy, he kissed me, running his tongue along my teeth. So achingly slow, like we had all the time in the world for this moment. He kissed over my jaw, and my eyes slipped closed as he followed my neck down to the swell of my breasts.
The memory of my dream set a fire loose in my veins. Keres in nothing but gold chains and a sultry expression. But the image melted away, replacing his black hair with midnight blue and horns. It was this Keres I desired. The one whose hands were roaming over my dress and gripping my ribs with thinly veiled restraint. A vulnerable Fae who had found a way against whatever this curse was to let me in. Dark and terrifying, yet gentle and kind—a contradiction that soaked into my need and ignited it with a thousand braziers.
I snuck my hand beneath his shirt, savoring the soft skin of his stomach. He flinched as I ran my fingers higher over his chest, and I relished the way his breath hitched at my touch.
