Visions of Skyfire - By Regan Hastings Page 0,89

rumpled beneath them. A light burned from the small bathroom and the draperies in the main room were closed, sealing them off from the world. They were alone with the past, and the future was no more than a hazy specter hanging just out of reach.

“Tell me,” he whispered, stroking his fingers along her arm in a comforting caress. “What did you remember?”

She shifted until she was lying on top of him, skin to skin, her eyes locked with his. “Everything,” she admitted. “I remembered every lifetime in bits and pieces that shattered around my mind like a puzzle that had been shaken and dropped.” She frowned, bit her bottom lip and said, “I saw me as Serena. And I saw you—how angry you were with her—me—and I didn’t blame you. My God, Rune, how did you stand me? Why did you love me? I was like the bitch queen of the universe.”

A reluctant smile curved his mouth as he listened to her berate herself for what couldn’t be changed. He lifted one hand and smoothed her hair back from her cheek. So soft. Her skin. Her hair. Everything about her was satin covering steel. She was stronger than she knew and he was all too aware that she was going to need all of that strength and more in the coming days.

“You weren’t as bad as all that,” he said quietly, though his memories were sharper than hers and clearer on the many times in their shared past when this witch had torn the unbeating heart from his chest.

She dropped her forehead to his chest and murmured, “Yes, I was. I lied to you. I turned on you when you needed me. Time and again, I let you—myself— down, and it worries me.”

“Why?” He tipped her chin up with his fingers, until she was looking into his eyes again. “Why does the past worry you so? It is merely a tool we will use to carve a future.”

“You say that, but you don’t really believe it.”

“Teresa—”

“No. It bothers me for the same reason that you don’t trust me,” she said, then spoke again quickly when he opened his mouth to argue. “I understand now why you don’t. Why you can’t. And damn it, Rune, even I don’t trust me now. What if I haven’t grown enough? What if in all those lifetimes, I still haven’t learned what I needed to? What if I fuck this up for both of us?”

“You will not,” he said, rolling with her until she was beneath him on the bed and he had braced himself over her. He caught her gaze with his and willed her to believe him. “This is our time. Together, we will do this. The past can’t touch us now.”

“It can influence us, though,” she argued, running her fingertips across the lightning bolts carving a jagged circle around his left nipple and winding their way beneath his arm. “You know that.”

“Yes. But its influence is only as strong as you allow it to be.” He cupped her face in his palm. “Do you want to succeed in this quest, Teresa? Do you want to put right what once went wrong?”

“Of course I do, but—”

“No.” He bent his head to her and kissed her hard and deep. When he broke away, he said, “If you want it badly enough, it will happen. The past changes nothing unless you allow it to.”

“What about your trust in me?” she whispered, with a sad shake of her head. “Our past keeps you from taking that one last step and you know it. So how can we even think to ignore what came before?”

“I … care for you,” he told her, though he knew it wasn’t what she longed to hear. But in spite of everything he had just said, he knew that his distrust still had a grip on him. That the past lived and breathed in the dark corners of his heart and mind. He couldn’t bring himself to take a leap of faith for her, but that was his lack, not hers. “I am your mate. I will be with you on every step of this journey. I will help you to solve the riddle and I will be with you when you return the black silver to Wales.”

“But …”

“Let it be enough, Teresa,” he said softly. “For both of us, here and now, let it be enough.”

Grief had etched itself into her eyes, but she nodded, accepting the limitations he felt

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