Page 77 of Realm of Nightmares
“Very well,” he murmured.
Remorse chipped at her, but she had to stand her ground against his advances. “Rowan, it’s not that I don’t care for you, because I do, but—”
“But your heart belongs to another…I know.” He straightened, his shoulders growing taut. Tense. “You moved on after I left.”
“That’s not fair.” The dagger of his words lanced her heart. “I thought you were dead.”
“But I'm not, though sometimes I wish my life had ended that night.” Pain etched into the handsome lines of his face, a despair she’d never witnessed. “Then maybe it wouldn’t feel like a piece of my soul is carved out every time I remember you’re destined for someone else.”
Knots tangled in her stomach, wrenching her. “You can’t mean that.”
“I do, Princess. I can’t help how I feel.” Rowan stepped toward her, close enough that his soothing scent overwhelmed her, yet an imaginary wall stood between them. Dividing them in a delicate balance of light and dark. “Your very presence here torments me. Looking at you is agony. I wake up every day wanting you and each night I go to sleep knowing you can never be mine.”
Gently, he reached out, cupping her cheek. His hand was cool to the touch against her skin. “But I’d do it again. I’d take every one of those swords over and over again if it meant you would live.”
He released her then, his hand falling away.
“Rowan.” His name came out strangled, pinched by the ache in her heart. But she was not meant for him. Their fates would never entwine, not in the way he wanted. “You were the first one ever to show me affection of any kind, to make me feel worthy of it, and I did love you. Once.”
Her Strand, the bond tying her to the one who held her heart and soul, warmed slightly. There should’ve been more. The connection should have been stronger, deeper, but it was as though the binding was weakening. Fraying.
“Then that will have to be enough.” Rowan shifted away from her, shadows swirling around him. “Knowing you loved me at least once.”
Then he disappeared into the essence of the night, a lingering sense of misery in his wake.
Suddenly, a burning sensation tingled along her wrist. She yanked off her glove, wincing at the stinging pain, and swallowed her gasp.
Along the tender skin of the inside of her wrist, black ink took form on her skin, marking her. The lines bled into the shape of two mountains and forming between both peaks was a bursting star.
Maeve hastily rubbed at the blemish, but it refused to fade.
She glanced around her, but the balcony was empty. She was all alone. Without warning, a violent force slammed into her, and she staggered back, overcome by the crushing sense of imminent danger. Her breathing hitched, and her heart pounded against the constricting wall of her chest. Panic slid down her spine, filling her with a keen rush of dread. Her hands coiled around the railing for balance as her knees quaked and her body trembled.
A muffled cry escaped her, and tears pricked at the corner of her eyes, the intensity of the sensation leaving her dazed and frightened.
Maeve didn’t know why, but she knew, she justknew,someone she loved was in peril.
And there was nothing she could do to save them.
* * *
The nightmarish creatureswere stalking Tiernan.
He knew they were lurking just out of sight…the cursedfaolanof the Kethwyn Woods. They were monstrous beasts, much like dire wolves, but with wings. Their bodies were covered in matted fur and grotesque scales, their long tails lined with barbed spikes. Two curved horns protruded from their heads, with another set jutting out along their vicious jaws. They had long snouts and mouths filled with teeth strong enough to crush a faerie’s bones to dust. Talons coiled from their colossal paws, granting them the ability to trap and maw their prey to death.
They were out there, biding their time in the shadows of the massive trees, calculating their attack.
He couldn’t shake the sensation that he was being hunted.
Tiernan jolted awake, his sword still clutched in his fist. There was nothing remaining of the fire but the faint glow of dying embers and ash. On the blanket across from him, Aran slept on his side, his hand resting on the hilt of his weapon.
Darkness fell across the sky, the only space in the whole forest where the indistinct haze of moonlight could be seen. Clouds blotted out its silvery glow, making it near impossible to see anything beyond the outline of trees.
But heknew.
That old feeling, the one that nearly drove him into madness, pricked like the tip of a hundred needles down his spine.
He strained to listen, to hear any sound of approach, but only the rushing of the blood river responded.
