She sat up and knelt beside him.
He stayed where he was, resting on the muddy bank, watching her.
Aislinn thought about the day they stood in the street and he’d let sunlight fall onto her like raindrops. Like so many other things since becoming Summer Queen, she understood now how to do that, but she’d not been able to experiment before. “Like this.”
Every pleasure under the sun was hidden in the droplets of sunlight that fell from her skin to his. Faery magic was what she wanted to share with him. It was what she was now, and she didn’t have to worry that she would hurt him as she would a mortal.
If Seth weren’t human…
But if he hadn’t been human, she’d never have had his friendship or love. If she’d still been human, she wouldn’t have lost it either. But Keenan wasn’t human, and neither was she.
Not now, not ever again.
She caught Keenan’s gaze and gave him the words he’d given her: “I want to try loving you. Make me love you, Keenan. You’ve convinced so many others. Convince me. Seduce me so I don’t have to hurt anymore.”
She leaned toward him, but Keenan stopped her. He shook his head.
“This”—he gestured between them—“isn’t love. It’s something else.”
“So…”
“Slower. Falling into bed…or riverbanks…isn’t going to make you love me.” Keenan stood up and held out a hand. “You’re my queen. I’ve waited nine centuries to find you and almost a year more to reach this moment. I can wait a bit longer for the rest.”
“But…”
He leaned in and kissed her softly. “If you’re finally going to try to let yourself love me, we’re going to date.”
“We sort of have been.”
“No.” He caught her hands and pulled her into his embrace. “We’ve been trying very hard not to date. Let me show you our world. Let me take you to dinner and whisper temptations. Let me take you to ridiculous carnival rides and symphonies and dances in the rain. I want you to laugh and smile and trust me first. I want it to be real love if you are in my bed.”
She paused. Sex seemed far easier than dating. They were friends; they had a spark. Sex isn’t love, though. Keenan wanted a real chance. That meant something more than sharing her body.
“My solution was easier,” she muttered, “and quicker.”
He laughed. “After nine centuries, I was willing to accept whatever terms you set, but if we’re going to try being together, I don’t want any doubts. If you don’t love me but still want to be…with me, I’ll settle for that, but I want a chance to have it all.”
“And if Seth…”
“Comes home?” Keenan pulled her closer and kissed her until the glow of sunlight shining from both of their bodies was blinding.
Then he promised, “That’s up to you. It always has been, hasn’t it?”
CHAPTER 31
Sorcha didn’t weep when she came to see him that last morning. Sorcha looked at the paintings he’d done for her, and she looked at him.
“They aren’t good enough,” Seth said. “None of them are, not really.”
“Would that I could lie to you,” she murmured. “But they are wrought of passion. I’d be selfish if I refused to let you leave.”
She walked around the room examining canvases she’d seen already.
“They aren’t good enough, but this is.” He opened his hand, and there in the center of his palm was a perfectly rendered cluster of silver jasmine blossoms. It was far more delicate than his other metalwork.
Sorcha’s eyes teared up. She stroked a fingertip over the silver petals. “It is. It’s exquisite.”
“I didn’t want to give you what you expected”—he pinned it to her dress with a shaking hand—“so I worked on it when you weren’t here.”