Page 85 of Samhain Savior
Talking was the last thing I wanted to do. Not with him standing there, hair damp as though he’d just showered, his eyes dark and heated. He held himself tensely, every muscle coiled like he was ready to pounce on me, and I rolled my lips in at the thought. That buzzing sensation in my chest was so much more acute when he was near. Like a plucked guitar string, the music of our connection was just for me, alive and throbbing with every breath.
“Right.” Stepping back, I made room for him to enter, trying to take a discreet sniff of him as he passed. He smelled of smoke, rich and vibrant, with the underlying masculine scent that was uniquely Archer.
I loved it.
“I’ll just—” I uttered lamely, reaching for the bag and heading back into the bathroom. “One second.”
Once the door was closed behind me, I pressed my back against it, letting out a deep breath.
“Holy shit, Pandora!” I hissed, lifting a hand to my forehead. “He’s just so... ugh!” My familiar wiggled her nose at me, her eyes appearing to dance with laughter. “Stop it.” I admonished. “I don’t need your attitude. This is neither the time nor the place to be feeling the way I’m feeling.” Digging in the bag, I pulled out one of the dresses that Heidi had helped me pack, slipping the familiar gray cotton over my head.
Looking in the mirror, I frowned. The dress was my own, but I looked much the same as I had in Persephone’s borrowed clothes, and for the first time in my life, I was disappointed in my appearance.
I had never thought about my body before, not outside the sense of what I could do with it physically, or how it failed me every time I tried to use my magic. I’d never cared about being appealing to someone else, but suddenly, I wished I had different clothes.
A different life, one where I was free to pursue a man I was interested in. Where I knew how to be seductive, to be womanly instead of just quirky. It had always worked forme before, but now I wanted to be more, and I didn’t like that I didn’t like what I saw in the mirror.
As the feeling of inadequacy began to overwhelm me, I heard Archer’s voice on the other side of the door.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his rough voice laced with concern. “Why are you upset?”
How could he have possibly known that I was upset?
Even as I thought the question I realized I knew the answer. Because that guitar string in my chest was suddenly humming with anxiety and concern, and my mouth popped open when I realized that those weren’t my emotions I was feeling, but Archer’s
It washisanxiety.Hisconcern.
What the actual fuck?
Pressing my hand to my chest as though I could touch the foreign emotions that were suddenly living inside me, I tried to sort through the foggy mess that was now swirling through my mind.
Scooping Pandora out of her towel nest, I spun to the door and whipped it open, bubbling with more anger than anything else.
Staring up at the demon who had filled me with a whole host of questions, I started with the most pressing.
“What the fuck did you do?”
Chapter thirty-nine
Archer
The whiskey glass sat before me, barely touched, as I listened to the debrief that should have been my sole concern.
It wasn’t.
No, all I could seem to focus on was the bond that sang in my chest, and the witch I could feel through it.
Her emotions surrounded me, pouring out of her in waves that threatened to overwhelm me completely. She had no idea about the true nature of our connection now, and as such, no idea how to control it. To stem the flow and hold back the riotous outpouring offeelingsthat she was currently throwing at me.
"It happened the second you vanished," Corson said, settling into one of the leather chairs that faced themassive stone fireplace. I blinked, attempting to actuallyhearwhat he was saying, and nodded for him to continue. "The shadows holding Storm-bringer just...disappeared. Poof. Gone."
That was annoying, but not surprising; my abrupt transition between realms had shocked me to my core. It was no wonder I’d lost track of the shadows I’d had surrounding Furfures. I’d barely grasped what had happened myself. My lapse in control had afforded him the opportunity to disappear in the brief moments we had been in the Void—or what had seemed like brief moments to the people we’d left behind.
"He didn't waste time either," Vine added, sprawling across the couch with his usual lack of concern for proper posture. "By the time we realized what had happened, he'd already bolted. Mal tried to track him, but..."
Mal cawed softly from his perch on the mantle, a sound filled with frustration and what might have been embarrassment.
"It's not your fault," I assured him, though my mind felt strangely foggy. "Storm-bringer is a slippery bastard. Always has been."
