Page 166 of His Darkest Desire

Especially the day when she felt the baby move as she stood inside the circle of mushrooms, talking to the wisps.

In an instant, she went from laughing and smiling to ugly crying.

The wisps’ surprise and concern only made her cry harder. They were so sweet, so kind, so thoughtful, but nothing they could’ve said or done would have stemmed the flow of her tears.

So they waited with her, their dim ghostfire flickering in the gathering dusk. Kinsley’s tears sharpened the sting of the cold air against her face, and ice stabbed at her nose and throat with her every trembling inhalation. But finally, she calmed enough to explain her sudden shift in mood.

Vex was so, so close, but he couldn’t reach out and settle his hand over her stomach. He couldn’t feel what she felt. Couldn’t feel the little life they’d created against all odds. Couldn’t just…be with her.

It was far from her finest moment, especially when she swore at him for taking all that away, for eliminating any chance of them sharing all these experiences, good and bad.

She quickly apologized despite knowing that he wouldn’t have understood her words, but it didn’t ease her hurt that night.

The next morning came regardless, followed by another, and another, and Kinsley carried on. Winter finally relented to spring. Her little bump grew, and the baby moved more and more. The sun shone warmer, brighter, and longer.

Yet Kinsley found herself yearning for the moon and stars.

She took to filling some of her quiet moments by talking to her baby. She told the little one how much they were loved, told them about the wisps and a tiny, magical world nestled between two others. But more than anything, she told her baby about their father.

The nicer weather meant longer, easier walks, and the glen felt like a whole new place as green again spread over the land. She drank in the fresh air, which was kissed by the scent of the loch and the smell of new life. She delighted in the fragrance of gorse, the prickly bushes with bright yellow flowers that grew in any open space they could find. Before coming to Scotland, she’d been told the blooms smelled like coconut, and she’d not quite believed it. Now she knew firsthand how astoundingly similar the scents were.

But she always found herself wishing for another scent on the breeze—a hint of oakmoss and amber.

The lengthening days only made her feel farther away from Vex. She continued visiting the fairy ring every day without fail, taking advantage of the increased daylight to stay a little longer each evening. Some part of her always wanted to stay until the sun went down, as though somehow the night would enable her to hear Vex, to feel him more clearly, to see him…

Even after the wisps, who could not hold themselves long on this side of the veil, departed, Kinsley would remain at the fairy ring, talking to Vex. She told him about her day, about their child, told him how much she loved and missed him.

And when she closed her eyes, she could picture him in the ritual chamber, sitting with his back against a standing stone or lying at the circle’s center with his wings spread across the ground, listening to her talk. Sometimes, she even thought she heard his muffled voice from afar—but it never carried into her world strongly enough to be certain.

In April, Madison visited, having finally staffed her bakery well enough for it to continue operating while she was gone. Kinsley hadn’t realized how long it had been since she’d seen her sister until they were hugging each other so, so tightly.

Kinsley couldn’t be sure whether she or Madison started crying first. Regardless, both sisters were quickly sobbing as Maddy apologized again and again for not having been there, for not coming sooner, for not having been a better sister when Kinsley had needed her the most.

Kinsley assured her that no apologies were necessary, and that Maddy and their parents had done so much for her. But in the end, it always would’ve come down to Kinsley making a choice. She’d had to decide to heal, and though she’d chosen to undertake that journey by herself, she never would’ve reached that point at all without the love and support of her family.

Though Kinsley had planned to give Maddy a day or two to settle in after crossing thousands of miles and numerous time zones to get there, she couldn’t wait. She brought her sister to the fairy ring that evening. And Madison, despite her weariness and continued skepticism, couldn’t hide the flicker of curiosity and excitement in her eyes as they stepped into the circle of mushrooms.

Watching her sister, Kinsley called for the wisps.

Madison’s eyes swept back and forth as she bounced in place, hands tucked securely in the pockets of her hoody. “So, what am I looking for here, Kinsley? Because I don’t see—”

Her words were silenced by a gasp. The wisps had appeared directly in front of her, their ethereal bodies resembling haunting flames.

“Oh,” Maddy breathed. “Wow.”

A huge grin spread across Kinsley’s lips. “You can see them?”

“Yes!”

When the sisters returned to the car a little while later, they told their mother everything. With an exaggerated pout, Emily proclaimed that it wasn’t fair. Here not even a single day, and Maddy had already met the will-o’-the-wisps. When would Emily get to see something amazing?

Kinsley sat back and cradled her belly. She could feel what the wisps had sensed—the magic, the power, the wonder of the life taking shape inside her. “Soon, mum. You’ll get your chance soon.”

The week passed much too fast, bringing another teary-eyed goodbye as Madison headed home. She promised to do all she could to make it back during the summer, after the baby was born.

The highlands felt more and more alive, and the baby grew faster and faster. Only a few weeks after Maddy’s visit, Kinsley marked a new milestone—the start of the third trimester.

It came with so many of the things she’d heard mothers complain about. Body aches, swollen ankles and feet, the delightful sensation of being so squished on the inside that drawing a deep breath was a struggle. Her baby bump—which had long since surpassed the word bump—seemed a smidge more ponderous each day. She had to relearn how to move to account for it.

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