Dropping his arm back to his side, Rys asks, “Do you want a geas?”
Saxon shakes his head. “No. After what happened in the Iron, I’ll remember. And, believe me, I won’t let you forget.”
“I expect no less. Thank you, Saxon.”
I gasp. Can’t help it. Considering how much trouble a simple “thanks” got me into, I’m shocked to hear Rys say it to Saxon. Even more surprising? Saxon accepts it with nothing more than a simple nod.
“Be careful. There are dark powers at work behind the scenes. I’d hate to see you caught in the crosshairs.”
“I appreciate that. Do you want to stay at my home? Or would you rather I whip up a portal to take you to yours?”
“I have strength enough for that,” Saxon tells Rys. He lifts his hand, and I see that he’s still a little shaky.
Before Saxon begins to conjure his portal, he turns so that he’s staring straight at me. I try not to wince.
“Consider this my making amends,” he says to me. “The fairy circle didn’t bring you back home but, between Rys and I, perhaps we could bring some of your home to you.”
Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?
He waves his hand. It’s not the decisive gesture the fae use to create their portals. It’s… it’s something else.
And that’s when I hear it.
“Hel? Helen!”
I stop breathing. I just… stop.
No one is supposed to know that name. Not here. Not in Faerie.
And that voice…
I can feel my eyes go wild as I swivel, turning to look for Rys. He’s got this strange, flat expression on his face, his hands folded in front of him as if he wants to reach for me but he knows he can’t.
He jerks his chin at me, gesturing over my head. His golden eyes seem to dim as he says softly, “Turn around, Leannán. See my gift for you.”
I don’t want another gift. The paints were enough. He didn’t have to—
“Helen. Babe. It’s me.”
I don’t even give myself the command. As if someone else has control of my body, I jerk, turning around quickly before stumbling when I see that handsome face with its charmingly crooked nose and those shining dark brown eyes.
Holy shit.
Jim.
He races toward me, wrapping his strong arms around me, lifting me off of the ground as he spins me in place. I lose track of how many times I go round and round and, by the time he sets me back on my feet, squeezing me to him as if he never wants to let me go, I feel like I’m about to hurl.
Or maybe that’s for a totally different reason.
He pulls back, such joy on his face, I feel like a total bitch for not being able to return it. But I can’t. I just can’t. I’m too stunned to do anything but stare up at him as he tells me, “Twenty-four hours. No phone call. Nothing from you. I was so worried, babe.”
I blink. I didn’t think it was possible to be more stunned, but that right there? It totally did the job.
“Twenty… twenty-four hours?”
“Yeah. Maybe it didn’t seem so long to you, but it was torture for me. You had me so scared something happened to you.”
If Jim’s saying what I think he’s saying, he felt that way after only a day. For me, though, it’s been sixty. Two freaking months.