Page 43 of King Elijah (The Zemiran Chronicles 2)

He traced the lines on her skin with his finger and closed his eyes.

“What are you doing?” she asked, wanting to pull away, but a strange sensation entered her hand with every stroke of his finger. “What—”

“Shh,” he said, gliding the tip of his nail gingerly until goosebumps trailed the back of her arms—a tormenting touch she craved most wantonly. Her eyes shut, feeling the swarm of butterflies reach her insides.

Before she could pull back, she felt a connection form between her powers and his. It was strange, a feeling she had never experienced before. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the moment was over. He released her hand and turned back to the river while she tried to convince herself she didn’t miss his touch.

“What was that?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I was testing a theory that has been pressing on my mind since the moment you came into my palace. Even before you attacked me.”

She lowered her brow.

“I thought it was the Newick gem at first, but then I questioned it the more we were around each other.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

She knew what he meant; she felt it too but pretending it didn’t happen felt less scary. Janelle didn’t want to know.

“Do you not feel it?” he asked. “As if our magics are trying to link their elements together.” He reached out, retaking her hand. “The first time I questioned it happened in the cell when I used the Voleric pendant on you. I didn’t know what it meant at the time. I still don’t. But right now, as you speak of becoming Kieran’s, I can feel your energy. Your power is screaming inside you to release itself upon the world, if not at least on your enemy.”

As he brushed his fingers along the lines of her palms, her stomach did a flip. She struggled desperately to mask the sensual sensation it gave her, while every muscle in her body tensed.

“No,” she lied, wriggling her hand from his. “I believe we both have intense magic and we’re feeling things that aren’t real.” It sounded so much like a lie, even she didn’t pretend to believe it.

The expression on his face grew distant as he turned to the river. The moon’s radiance drew shadows over his face, making him look like some ancient marble statue. His jaw tightened.

“My magic may be dark and ominous, but I know when light touches it. I’ve been around Fae. I’ve felt the powers of an elf. But with you—” He continued to stare ahead. “With you, it feels as if my own powers are trying to surrender to yours.”

Magic was only linked to the one born with it. Janelle didn’t understand anything he was saying. She wasn’t taking anything from him, at least, not intentionally. Magic didn’t surrender or reach out to one another. They were bound to the body.

“Well,” he said, breaking the awkward silence and climbing to his feet, “Perhaps it is all in my head.” Elijah turned back to her; his smile turned somber. “I want you to know, though, your power is beautiful,” he said. “Janelle, you are beautiful.”

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THEY DIDN’T STAYlong at the stream. Janelle walked away from it feeling unsettled. The week before, she and Elijah had done nothing but fight and spew venom at one another. Now, in the wake of that single, tender moment by the water, Janelle glimpsed something she had long given up on. Peace. She had felt peaceful, held in his soft gaze after he called her beautiful. If it hadn’t been for Elijah’s abrupt exit—as if the words had been physically torn from his chest—she could have basked in that moment for much longer.

They traveled for the next few hours in awkward silence, the magic rope reconnecting the pair. Janelle’s treacherous brain reminded her that she should be focusing on her escape, not the warm, tingly feeling that came from being complimented by someone like him. It didn’t matter if Elijah thought she was beautiful. Janelle berated herself for not taking advantage of that moment by knocking Elijah out and fleeing into the woods. She was still his prisoner. She was still bound to him, leashed like a dog.

“We won’t make it, Elijah. It’s too dark, and the wind will knock us right off the edge,” she said. “We need to wait until morning.”

He nodded and looked around. His eyes narrowed as he spotted something unusual at the bottom of Whitestone Mountain.

“Over there,” he said, pointing to a fallen tree in the distance and what looked like a dead animal lying over it.

“What is that?” she asked, squinting her eyes to look through the falling snow.

“It’s . . . it’s a horse, I think. From the palace. The rider is also there.”

Janelle’s stomach dropped.

“Aiden!” she cried, pulling at the reins, but Elijah gripped his hands over her stomach, pulling her between his thighs.

“Stop, Janelle!” he said into her ear.

If Aiden was at the bottom of the mountain, nothing would stop her. She elbowed him hard against his stomach. After she heard him wince, she pulled their horse to a stop and jumped down, her knees growing weak as she sprinted toward the mountain. Elijah pulled on the rope, flinging her back until her backside hit the snow. She tugged at the rope, but even if she were to figure out how to break it physically, the magic he placed on it made it indestructible.

He jumped off the horse and moved through the slush until he stopped at her side.

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