is it?” Vaeril asks, as he enters the room behind me, coming to my side to see for himself.
“I’m not sure,” I murmur as he picks up a smooth, shiny stone, and I realise what these items remind me of. When we were escaping Arhaven, we entered the large forest separating the two races, and each night, the pixies, imps, and other small fae left me little gifts.
“Gifts from the fae,” Vaeril observes, arriving at the same conclusion as me. “They must be returning.” His comment echoes Speaker Hawthorn’s earlier statement.
Frowning, I collect the items and walk over to the dressing table, carefully placing them on top. “Why are they leaving me gifts? I’ve not done anything.” My voice is soft, and all of a sudden, I’m hyperaware that I’m alone in my bedroom with Vaeril.
“They must be drawn to you.” His voice has deepened, and although I’m facing away from him, I can almost feel him as he takes a step towards me. “You said yourself that you could sense them. Maybe that’s a mutual feeling?” His tone matches mine, quiet, almost breathy as he stands close enough that I can feel the heat of his body against my back.
“Thank you, for tonight,” I whisper, bracing my hands against the dressing table before me as Vaeril shifts his weight.
“Clarissa,” he murmurs, his hand resting on my waist as he gently turns me to face him. The hungry look on his face makes my mouth go dry as my heart speeds up. My eyes flicker over his features as he takes a step closer, his fingers tracing patterns through my dress on my waist and up my back, leaving a tingling trail in their wake.
“What’s changed?” I ask, needing to know. My mind just wants to let go, to give in to his heated gaze and the arousal that’s building within me with each passing second, but my heart is more cautious.
Frowning, his stills his caresses, his confusion evident. “What do you mean?” Sighing, I go to look away, trying to sort out my feelings, but he reaches up to cup my chin. “What is it, Clarissa? You can tell me anything.”
“That’s exactly my point! Since when, Vaeril?” I try to keep my voice soft, not wanting to sound reproachful, but before I can commit my heart to him, I need to know when his feelings for me changed. “You’ve been hot and cold since Tor arrived. You want me, but only because the bond is telling you to,” I explain, my eyes scanning his face to gauge his reaction. “Something changed tonight. I felt it. What is it?” My voice is almost a whisper now, like just saying it out loud might change it. I’m aware I might not like his answer, that forcing him to voice his feelings might change his mind, but I have to know.
I see the moment understanding crosses his features, and I brace myself for any backlash, except he surprises me by raising a hand to my face and cupping my cheek. “I’ve always wanted you, Clarissa, even before the bond made itself clear to me, and that is why.” His tone is earnest, but I can’t hide my confusion. His thumb caresses my cheek, and I fight against the urge to lean into his touch, for my eyes to slide closed as I bask in his warmth. “You are so young,” he whispers, and I see a flash of unease in his eyes before he carries on. “Remember that when I first met you, I thought you were human. Then you saved me. A human, practically a child, was required to help me, a warrior lord.” His voice is full of self-loathing. “Then I nearly died from that wound. You saved me, honoured your word, and took me to my people, no matter the risk to yourself. That’s when I realised you were my mate and fate seemed so cruel.” His eyes are awed as he relives our escape, like he can’t quite believe it himself. I’ve heard part of this tale before, about when he realised who I was to him, but now I want to know when he decided to accept it.
“You, Clarissa. You are what has changed me. I realised I was no longer happy with my old life and never would be in a world where you were not part of it. But every time I looked at you, I was only reminded of my own failures.” His tone