“You picked me. Rabbit told you it would change you.”
“So Rabbit drew your eyes, my bad luck.” She slid to the side, moving a little bit away from him. “That doesn’t tie us together. It’s just ink.”
With sinuous grace, he turned to lean on the spot she’d just vacated, putting them side by side. He didn’t look at her but watched the dancers instead as he said, “You don’t believe that. You know better. Somewhere inside, you feel different. I know that, as clearly as I know that you’re watching for Niall, hoping he’ll actually strike me this time.”
She turned to look at him. “What?”
“He won’t. Can’t. There are only a few who can touch me, and he’s not one of them. But”—he drew a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh, stirring tendrils of her hair—“I do like that you’re wishing it. Healthy feelings, those ones—rage, dismay, fear, and a bit of guilty temptation. They taste good.”
He laughed, a smoky sound curling around her like shadows taking form, like the shadows she’d imagined—not imagined, but truly seen—hovering over the bottle of ink at Rabbit’s shop. She looked then, and saw shadows flowing through the room, crawling toward her from the bodies on the dance floor, stretching themselves out like they had hands that would stroke her skin—and she really didn’t want them to. Do I? She licked her lips, tasting honey—longing—and pushed away from the wall.
Coming through those shadow-draped bodies were Keenan, Aislinn, and Seth. None of them looked happy, but it was Seth’s worried expression that made her falter. She didn’t want them to reach her any more than she wanted the shadows to. Rage at Keenan spiked, matching the cloud of salt-soaked anger that came through the air in front of him like fog coming in from the sea.
Irial twirled her into his arms and gave her a look that made her shiver with longing.
“Mmmm, I like that one, but”—he kissed her forehead tenderly—“I need to deal with business now. We’ll have plenty of time for that soon enough.”
She stepped away from him, stumbling into the crowd, where Keenan caught her without looking away from Irial. But being in Keenan’s grip made anger flare purer than she’d thought she could feel, replaced the blood in her veins with salt. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed. “Don’t you ever touch me, kingling.”
“I’m sorry, Les. I’m so sorr
y,” Aislinn whispered to her. For a moment it looked like golden tears slid down her cheeks, but then she turned away and said, “Seth?”
“I got her.” Seth pulled her away from Keenan and tucked her under his arm protectively. “Come on, Les.”
Keenan put a hand on Seth’s shoulder. “Take her to Niall.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she told the assembled group. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m—”
“Go home. You’ll be safer away from this rabble.” Irial inhaled again, and Leslie thought she could actually see shadows crawling across a twisting vine of ink—with feathers where leaves should be—that grew from her skin and vibrated in the air between them. When that shadow vine stilled, she suddenly felt calm again, at peace, quiet.
And she didn’t want to be there any longer.
She didn’t speak to any of them as she turned her back and left.
CHAPTER 25
Irial watched Leslie walk away with the Summer Queen’s mortal. What would he tell her? It didn’t truly matter, not now; she was his. Whatever they said or did wouldn’t undo that.
“If anyone tries to take her from me, to come between us”—he pulled his gaze from Keenan to look at the Summer Queen—“you understand, don’t you?”
She looked reluctant to answer.
“Aislinn?” Keenan took her hand in his.
She didn’t react to either faery. “She’s my friend. Leslie is not just some mortal; she’s my friend. I should’ve acted when I saw you at the restaurant.”
“It wouldn’t have changed anything. She was already mine. That’s why I was there.” He reached out as if he’d touch her cheek, hand hovering by her sun-kissed face, and whispered, “What would you do to keep your mortal safe, Ash? Your Seth?”
“Anything.”
“Exactly. You don’t want to try to take Leslie from me. Your little kingling did tell you who it was that bound him, didn’t he?” Irial waited for the flood of worry, of anger, of despair, and was surprised to find that the Summer Queen was in reasonable control of her emotions.
Looking rather like Gabriel’s daughters, the Summer Queen cocked her head. “He did.”
She stepped forward. Keenan didn’t move to stop her. Instead he watched her with confidence, his emotions calmed. The Summer Queen let a trickle of sunlight seep into her voice, a tiny reminder of what she was, what she was capable of. She was close enough that the desert heat of her breath scorched Irial’s face when she whispered, “Don’t threaten me.”
Irial held his hands up. “I’m not the one starting quarrels. I had business here: she’s my business now.” He felt ill at ease talking about her that way, his Leslie, his vulnerable mortal. So he changed the subject. “Thought I’d pay my respects to you while I was in the area…and check in on our Gancanagh. I find myself missing him lately.”