I stared at him, afraid to say those three words for fear of what they'd bind me to. But I couldn't help wondering what it would be like to be a princess in his realm. What would it be like to be with my love forever?
"Remember . . . what am I supposed to remember?"
He swept his gaze to my face, his lashes long and lazy. "Oh, my sweet. If you have to ask . . . never mind. It's no matter. But stay with me? I must protect you. Take you away from the life you lead. You long to be here; I can feel it. The Golden Wood is your home. Your cousin and aunt are here. You belong by my side." Stretching out on his back, he folded his arms behind his head as the sunlight broke through the clouds and splashed across his face.
He was gorgeous, my prince. With eyes so blue they mirrored the morning sky, and hair as silky as spun platinum. His skin was a deep olive and he barely looked human. But his energy was that of summer apples and warm hay, of long nights under the stars with the scent of roses heavy on the breeze. I caught my breath, wondering again at the connection that I felt with this man. This Fae Prince. For it ran like a river beneath the surface, wide and vast and deep, rolling thunder as it moved along and took me with it.
I leaned down, slowly, brushing my lips to his. "You are the most incredible man I've ever met."
He slid his arms out from beneath his head and ran his hands lightly up my shoulders. "Cicely . . ." His voice was hoarse. "Cicely, you are like wild honey wine. I can't get enough of you. You were adorable when you were a child, but now . . . now you are grown and you are my passion and dream. I wish you could remember . . ."
"What is it, my love?" I sprawled in his arms and he rolled me over, looming above me.
"I cannot tell you . . . I cannot interfere. But one day, you will know the truth of our bond, and you will be mine forever." A shadow brushed across his face and he whispered, "Or perhaps you will forsake me."
"Never! I will never let you go. I love you, Grieve." I sprang up, blurting out the words that I'd wanted to say for the past three years, but I'd been too young. Too afraid. Even now, I knew it was too early—that I couldn't back up my feelings. My mother still controlled my life and I was at her beck and call.
But to Grieve, they were the magic key. He pulled me to him, his gaze searching my face. "You love me . . . how much do you love me? Enough to stay? Enough to marry me now?"
My breath caught in my throat. Marry him? The promise loomed lovely and brilliant and my heart skipped a beat. And yet . . . the image of my mother sprang up in my mind.
Krystal, strung out on heroin. On crack. On whatever she could get her hands on. Krystal, her dark eyes wide with fear, with the desire to forget who she was. It was me who kept us alive, ever since I was little. I'd learned how to survive. I'd kept myself off the dope and out of the bars. I'd learned how to pick pockets, to steal, to beg if need be. Together with Ulean, my Wind Elemental, I managed to keep us one step away from the cops and the pimps and the gangs.
If I left my mother . . . she'd die. She wasn't prepared for the life into which she'd slid. I was the only thing standing between her and death.
I slowly turned to Grieve, torn. Wanting to say yes. Wanting to stay and live my own life. Wanting to come in from the cold. But . . . my mother was my mother. And she'd never come back to New Forest. She'd let me go, and then die cold and alone in some alley. How many times had she said, "Without you, I'd be dead. Cicely, never leave me. I can't do it on my own. I need you."
"I . . . I can't. Not yet."
He stared at me, a flash of pain shooting through his eyes. "Cicely . . . I need you. I need you to be with me. We complete one another. You are my soul mate. My only love."
I stood, slowly. "My mother . . . she needs me."
"You would choose your mother—she who has done nothing for you, who's made your life a living hell? You would choose her over me?" He jumped up, cheeks flushing, voice bitter. "Are you toying with me? I wait for every summer, just to see you return home. The past few years, you've led me to hope for the future."
His love was overwhelming, and even though it felt so right, I was afraid of how dark his eyes had clouded. "Grieve, I'm still young."
"You are magic-born, not yummanii. You are older than your age. Cicely, I've waited all my life for you. I've waited a lifetime and more for you to find your way back to me, and now that you have, you turn me away?"
Shivering, I slowly backed away. "Just for a while . . . just till my mother gets herself settled—"
"And when will that be? She's had you on the run eleven years. Is she showing any signs of getting better? Of finding her way in the world? She'll keep you with her, a crutch, as long as she can."
I choked up and waved my hands in the air, trying to make him realize how unreasonable he was being. But even as the words, "You're talking about my mother!" came out of my mouth, I knew that he was right.
"I can't promise when, but I will return to you," I whispered low on the slipstream, and he heard me loud and clear.
"I need to know that I'm not waiting for a promise written on the wind. For a hope that will never come. I'd rather leave the Golden Wood than wait here, knowing I'll never have you by my side." He was angry now, and the hurt filled his face, making me feel horrible.
I turned, shaking my head, wanting nothing more but to forget my mother. Forget the streets. My wolf tattoo on my stomach was snarling and I reached down, trying to soothe it. Grieve paused, holding his breath.
I finally shook my head. "I promise I will return to you. But I don't know when. I have to look out for my mother. I'm all she has."
"Then go to her. Go to her now. Leave me with my pain." He tossed the flowers he'd picked for me on the ground at my feet. "Go. Just go."
"Grieve . . ." My words drifted off as he turned and slowly, head down, walked away from me, not looking back.
As a shadow passed over the wood, I turned and ran.