by Jane Godman
He was barely aware of running footsteps crossing the grass toward him. A small whirlwind of a woman dropped to her knees beside him, and Nate had time to register her short, spiky hair and elfin features. As she placed her hands on Violet’s shoulders, his mind transported him back in time six years to a similar scene. It was Stella, the necromancer star. The woman who had brought him back to life after Cal had stabbed him through the heart with a silver dagger.
“There is a trace of life left inside her.” Stella’s words rocked Nate back on his heels. Violet was still alive? But she was as marble, still as a statue. There was no rise and fall to her chest, no trace of any sign that she was breathing, and her skin was cold as ice. “It’s the tiniest flicker, but she is fighting desperately to hang on to it.” Stella turned her head to look at Nate. “There must be a very powerful reason why she won’t let go.”
“Can you help her?” His voice was thick with the tears that suddenly forced their way to the surface.
“I can try.” Stella placed her hand on Violet’s forehead. “Awacnian.”
The word stirred something deep inside Nate. He hadn’t been conscious when Stella had laid her hands on him in the same way—face it, I was dead—but somehow he knew that ancient English was the language of the necromancers. He knew Stella was telling Violet to awaken. He also knew Stella was the most powerful necromancer in the world. There was a hierarchy of the rare sorcerers who were able to commune with the dead, and Stella was at its peak.
If anyone could help Violet, it was this fearless, feisty woman. This was the woman who had taken on and defeated the evil Moncoya. The woman who had breathed life into a stranger—a feral werewolf who had tried to kill her—because she could, and because she pitied him.
For the longest minute of Nate’s life nothing happened. Then, to his utter amazement and joy, Violet’s chest hitched as she drew in a deep, gasping breath.
Without thinking, Nate clutched Stella’s hand. “Is that it? Is she okay?”
At the sound of his voice, Violet’s eyelids fluttered and she murmured quietly. It was impossible to know what she was saying, but Nate liked to think his name was in there somewhere.
“She has a long way to go before we can say she’s okay, but she’s alive. That’s a start.” The moonlight shone briefly on Stella’s face, highlighting the faerie green of her eyes.
Kneeling on the damp grass, Nate leaned over and hugged Stella. It was the awkward hug between a man who tried to rip out a woman’s throat and the woman who restored a feral werewolf to life. They had met only twice, but both times, Stella had performed a miracle for him. He owed her a hell of a lot of gratitude.
“Let’s get Violet into the palace.” Stella rose to her feet.
The little procession, with Stella in the lead, Nate carrying Violet and Cal bringing up the rear with the bags, made its way across rolling pastures and landscaped gardens until reaching the entrance to the palace. Even though his concentration was on the precious package in his arms, Nate spared a moment to notice his surroundings as they passed through an imposing portal and into a majestic hall.
They traversed several corridors before mounting a winding, red-carpeted staircase. Stella threw open a set of gilded double doors and ushered Nate into a vast suite of rooms. “I hope you’ll be comfortable here.”
Nate placed Violet on the huge bed that occupied most of one side of the room, exulting in the soft sigh that escaped her lips as she sank into the luxurious mattress. He had never thought to hear that sound from her again. “I think we’ll manage.”
Chapter 14
Violet opened her eyes slowly. The last time she had attempted to lift her eyelids, every part of her body had ached and the effort had been too great. Now, although she was still desperately tired, she no longer felt as though her very bones were infused with weariness. A slight frown tugged at her brow. This palatial room wasn’t familiar. It certainly wasn’t the Spanish hotel where she had fallen asleep. All of which made her wonder just how long she had slept.
And those dreams. A man with silver eyes who spoke to her about going home. A feeling that she was leaving, despite fighting with every ounce of her waning strength to stay. There were so many reasons why she couldn’t go. All of them to do with Nate. So many things she needed to say to him. So many things they had to do together. So many reasons why it was unfair to end their story this way. Then there had been a warm, capable hand on her brow and a woman’s voice telling her to awaken.
A new contentment had replaced the fragility and fear. She lay still for a moment, examining it. She remembered why she had become so weak. Her inner wolf had been unable to survive in the mortal realm, and because she was dying, Violet’s human was declining with her. She didn’t understand why that should be when she had seen other werewolves living and thriving there. Possibly it was because of her lost memory. With it she had lost her ability to shift. Had her wolf been trapped inside her, stifled and distressed? All she knew for sure was that she had been growing weaker. Then she had lost consciousness completely. Now? For some reason she was—if not whole again—sensing that the deterioration had been reversed. Could she say she was on the road to recovery? That might be stretching things a little too far.
She turned her head, pleased that the action didn’t cause her any pain or dizziness. Nate was sitting in a chair beside the bed, watching her. The light in his eyes was so warm and loving that it caught in the back of her throat.
When she smiled at him, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the edge of the bed so that their faces were inches apart. “Hey, you.”
“Why am I in a room that looks like it could be part of a castle?”
He gave a soft laugh. “I have friends in high places.” He took her hand and kissed it. “We are in Otherworld.”
Violet’s brow furrowed. The man with silver eyes had talked about bringing her home to Otherworld. “So that wasn’t a dream?”
“No. Cal came to see me just at the right time. We brought you home.”
There was a question in there somewhere, but it eluded her. Instead, she asked the most important question of all. “Will you kiss me?”
The smile in his eyes deepened. “I may have the most horrible morning breath in the history of the world.”
“I’ll risk it.”
His lips brushed hers tenderly, and Violet melted into him, transported by the feel and taste of him. It was more than a kiss. It was a restoration of all they thought they’d lost. Nate kissed her like he wanted to imprint himself on her, breathe fire into her, burn the love and passion he felt for her into every part of her body. When they drew apart, Violet’s cheeks were wet, but she couldn’t tell whether it was with her tears or his.
She sat back against the most comfortable pillows imaginable with a sigh. Nate held a glass of water to her lips, and she sipped it gratefully.
“You’ve been through quite an ordeal. You should get some more rest.”
“Can’t.” She tried for a sorrowful expression.
His eyes were troubled as they scanned her face. “Why not?”
Violet grinned at him. “Because I’m hungry.”
His laughter was one of the most beautiful sounds she had ever heard. “Let me guess. Meat?”
Violet nodded appreciatively. “The rarer, the better.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
When Nate had gone, Violet lay back on her pillows and studied the view from the window. She couldn’t see much because the room was several floors up, but she caught a glimpse of soaring cliffs, clear blue skies and whirling seabirds. It wasn’t so much what she could see that told her this place was different from the mortal realm but what she could sense. It was something indefinable. It was the feel of home.
And that was the question that had been niggling at the back of her mind ever since Nate had said those words. We brought
you home. It had been the right thing to do. Clearly, this was where she belonged. But how did you know this was my home, Nate?
* * *
Who would have believed he could derive so much pleasure from watching Violet as she ate a nearly raw steak? Perhaps the happiness was intensified because he had believed he would never again see those little, familiar things about her. Having already believed he had lost her, he witnessed the realization that she would live send a hit of pure joy fizzing through his veins.
Having discovered Stella in the palace corridors and been directed to the kitchens, he had soon discovered that nothing was too much trouble for the staff here. They were used to catering for the leaders of the Otherworld dynasties. Vampires, faeries, werewolves, elves, dryads and countless others passed through these rooms on a regular basis. Rustling up a rare steak was nothing compared with some of the demands they faced.
Having opted for a more conventional breakfast of toast and coffee, Nate was beginning to feel the events of the last few days catching up on him. He was tired and dirty, and his side ached from where the werewolf had clawed him. None of those things mattered. Violet would live. Everything else faded into insignificance.
“There are some things I don’t understand.” Violet pushed her plate aside. He was pleased to see she had eaten most of the steak.
Nate had been prepared for questions. Maybe not quite yet, but Violet seemed to be on a fast track to recovery. Stella had done a remarkable job. “Go ahead.”
“How did you know to bring me here?” She was watching his face closely.
Nate had thought long and hard about how much to tell her. Maybe it was wrong to keep the whole story from her, but he wanted to wait until he was sure she was strong enough to hear it. He knew how hard it would be for her to know who her father was. To know he was the man who had caused Nate so much pain six years ago. That he was Nevan, the man Nate had sworn to destroy. He knew the truth would tear her in two, the same way it had done to him.
For Nate, the shock of learning who she was had been muted by everything else that was going on. Even so, he was forcing himself to come to terms with it. Violet was everything he had ever wanted, but her father had poisoned his life. When he finally told her the truth about her identity, it was going to have an impact on their relationship, no matter how much they tried to avoid it.
Of course, there was always a chance that, now she was in Otherworld, her memory would return before Nate could tell her anything. Either way, Violet discovering the truth in her own time, or him telling her when she was strong enough, would be better than risking a setback to her health by telling her now and trying to force the memories. Worse, by forcing her to confront the competing worlds in which her father and the man she loved existed.
“Because you had talked about your feelings of not belonging and of an Otherworld. When Cal turned up in Barcelona and I told him about you, we decided your only chance was to bring you here.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.
Her eyes were like indigo headlights probing his face. Because she had lost so much weight, they appeared even bigger. “But I still don’t feel I can shift, so how come I am feeling so much better?”
“You weren’t, not at first.” He took her hand, his heart aching anew at its slenderness. She was like a bird in her fragility. “When we first arrived here, it looked like you weren’t going to make it. Then Stella worked her magic on you.”
She was silent for a few moments. “Stella is the one who brought you back to life, isn’t she?” He nodded, and she swallowed hard. “Did I die?”
“Not quite.”
Her breath hitched on a sigh, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. “I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you.”
“Stella said you were holding on for a very important reason.”
She clutched the front of his T-shirt. “It was you, Nate. You were my important reason.” He drew her close, holding her to him, dreading the next question. Knowing it would come. “How can you be in Otherworld? I heard the man with the silver eyes—the man called Cal—say mortals are not allowed here.”
“I was able to enter because Cal is working his magic.”
“Tell me you can stay.” It was a whispered plea. He could see the way her mind was working. If he couldn’t stay in Otherworld, and she couldn’t risk returning to the mortal realm, what did the future hold for them? There was only one answer, and it didn’t contain a happy ending.
“We don’t have to talk about this now.” It was a blatant avoidance tactic. He knew it. Violet knew it. He saw it in the flash of pain in the purple-blue depths of her eyes. There was agony and something more. It was gone almost as soon as it appeared, and he wasn’t sure what it was. Anger? Determination? Refusal to accept the inevitable? In its place he saw exhaustion. It was as if, whatever that flash of fire had been, it had drained every other feeling from her. “You need to rest.”
“Can I take a bath first?” Violet fingered her hair with an expression of distaste. “I need to wash my hair.”
The bathroom was a masterpiece of Victorian-style elegance. Larger than most apartments Nate had lived in, the bathroom’s crowning glory was the central, roll-top tub. Set on a platform, this larger-than-life feature had claw feet and gold fittings. The rest of the bathroom, with blue-and-white flowered wallpaper and patterned rugs on the floor, added to the old-fashioned feel.
Nate ran a warm, scented bath. Having removed Violet’s clothes—and heroically ignored his raging arousal—he carried her through to the bathroom and lowered her into the water. She gave a sigh of satisfaction and, closing her eyes, let her head rest against the back of the bath.
When she opened her eyes, she tilted her head to look at Nate. “Why don’t you join me?”
“You’re ill.” His voice was husky with tiredness. And something more.
“I’m asking you to bathe with me, Nate. That’s all.” There was a hint of her old mischief in Violet’s smile. “For now.”
The warm water did look mighty tempting. So did Violet, but that was a whole other story. He could control his desire for her until she was stronger. He was sure he could. Stripping off his clothes, Nate slid into the bath. He hadn’t realized how tense he was until his muscles relaxed with relief. Positioning himself so that Violet could lie between his knees with her back against his chest, Nate gave a groan of pure contentment.
“I need to meet your friend Stella and thank her.” Violet rested her head on his shoulder. “Being brought back from the dead is proving to be quite enjoyable.”
“You will meet her soon enough, but your main focus needs to be on getting well.”
“I’ll do that.” Violet traced a finger through the hair on his chest. “As long as you promise to help me.”
The message was clear. Don’t leave me. And, since Nate had no intention of going anywhere until she was well enough to cope without him—and who knows when that might be, an insistent little voice whispered at the back of his mind—he had no problem agreeing to her terms.
While Violet leaned back, Nate poured water over her hair before shampooing the long, thick length. She murmured contentedly as his fingers massaged the lather into her scalp. When he had finished washing her hair, he took the soap and smoothed it over her body.
“You are good at this,” Violet murmured dreamily as his hands slicked up her rib cage and over her breasts.
No matter how hard he tried to fight it, telling himself she wasn’t ready for this, his errant body decided otherwise, and Nate’s erection lodged firmly against her lower spine. Violet didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she shifted position, pressing her buttocks tight up against him. His instincts told him that unique connection between them, the one that heated up their bodies into a fiery frenzy as soon as they touched, meant his caress would help to heal her.
He slid his soapy palms over her torso, inching them down over he
r sex and finally gliding his fingers between her feminine folds. With a sigh of satisfaction, Violet lifted her hips to greet him. Nate lifted her knee and draped her leg over his while pressing one finger deep inside her. Any fears that she might not be ready for this disappeared as soon as Violet’s head fell back against his chest and she gave a soft, appreciative groan.
Her hips rose again, and Nate added a second finger, stretching and filling her. Using the index finger on his other hand to gently rub her sensitized clitoris, he pumped his fingers in and out of her. Before long, Violet was arching her back and crying out his name.
“Oh, God.” She turned slightly so she could press her lips to his throat. “That was exactly what I needed.”
“But possibly not what a doctor would prescribe.”
“Doctors are overrated.” Her eyes were closing as she rested her head on his chest. “Unlike the orgasms you deliver.”
Easing her carefully out of his arms, Nate stepped out of the tub. Lifting Violet gently, he set her on her feet briefly while he wrapped her in a huge fluffy towel. He dried the excess moisture from her hair and body with another towel before carrying her through to the bedroom. She was asleep before he placed her on the bed.
Returning to the bathroom, he quickly finished bathing. When he slid into bed next to Violet and fitted his body to hers, he was so tired he felt sleep begin to overwhelm him almost immediately. There was only one thought on his mind as he drifted on to the realms of slumber. She was healing fast. He should probably prepare himself to say goodbye sooner than he had expected. The thought triggered a sharp pain in the center of his chest.
Oh, hey. I know what that is. Guess what? Heartbreak really does hurt like hell.
He guessed that hurt was going to get a whole lot worse before it got any better. If it got better. He couldn’t imagine life without Violet would offer him anything that would heal the agony. For now, he was going to hold her close and imagine he never had to let her go.
