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It reminded me of the Otherworld, and the fact that this memory comforted and creeped me out at the same time scared me.
Still, I’d visited the Sacred Grove, or as Seoras called it, the Croabh, but I’d always come to it during daylight hours. Never after sunset. Never at night.
I walked along the road. Torches lined the street. They cast flickering shadows against the edge of the grove, lending enough light so that I could make out a hint of the mossy, magickal world within the boundary of ageless trees. It looked different without the sun making a living canopy of branches. It wasn’t familiar anymore, and I felt a prickly sensation across my skin, like my senses were on super alert.
My eyes kept being pulled to the shadows within the grove. Were they blacker than they should be? Was there something not quite right lurking inside there? I shivered, and that’s when a movement farther down the street caught at the edge of my vision. My heart skittered around in my chest while I peered ahead of me, half expecting wings and coldness, evil and madness …
Instead what I saw had my heart skittering for other reasons.
Stark was there, standing in front of two trees that were twisted together to form one. The trees’ interwoven branches were decorated with strips of cloth knotted together—some were brightly colored, some were worn and faded and tattered. It was the mortal version of the hanging tree that had stood before Nyx’s Grove in the Otherworld, but just because this one was in the “real” world didn’t mean it was any less spectacular. Especially when the guy standing in front of it, staring up at its branches, was wearing the earth-colored MacUallis plaid, in the traditional Warrior way, complete with dirk and sporran and all sorts of sexy metal-studded leather accoutrements (as Damien would say).
I stared at him as if I hadn’t seen him for years. Stark looked strong and healthy and totally gorgeous. I was distracting myself by wondering what exactly Scottish guys did, or didn’t, wear under those kilts when he turned to face me.
His smile lit up his eyes. “I can practically hear you thinking.”
My cheeks got instantly warm, especially since Stark did have the ability to sense my emotions. “You’re not supposed to be listening in unless I’m in danger.”
His grin turned cocky and his eyes sparkled mischievously. “Then don’t think so loud. But you’re right. I shouldn’t have been listening in ’cause what I was getting from you was the opposite of what I’d call danger.”
“Smart-ass,” I said, but I couldn’t help gri
“Yep, that’s me, but I’m your smart-ass.”
Stark held out his hand to me as I reached his side, and our fingers twined together. His touch was warm—his hand strong and steady. This close to him I could see that he still had shadows under his eyes, but he wasn’t as deadly pale as he had been. “You’re yourself again!”
“Yeah, it’s taken me a while; my sleep’s been weird—not as restful as it should be, but it’s like a switch flipped inside me today and I finally recharged.”
“I’m glad. I’ve been so worried about you.” As I said it I realized how true that was, and I also blurted, “I’ve missed you, too.”
He squeezed my hand and tugged me closer to him. All of his cocky kidding evaporated. “I know. You’ve felt distant and scared. What’s up with that?”
I started to tell him he was wrong—that I was just giving him some space to get well, but the words that formed and slipped from my lips were more honest. “You’ve been hurt a lot because of me.”
“Not because of you, Z. I’ve been hurt because that’s what Darkness does—it tries to destroy those of us who fight for Light.”
“Yeah, well, I wish Darkness would pick on someone else for a while and let you rest.”
He bumped me with his shoulder. “I knew what I was getting into when I swore myself to you. I was cool with it then—I’m cool with it now—and I’ll still be cool with it fifty years from now. And, Z, it really doesn’t make me sound very manly and Guardian-like when you say Darkness is ‘picking on’ me.”
“Look, I’m being serious. You want to know what’s up with me, well, I’ve been worried that you might have been hurt too bad this time.” I hesitated, fighting unexpected tears as I finally understood. “So bad that you weren’t go
Heath’s presence was so tangible there between us that I half expected to see him step from the grove and say Hey there, Zo. No crying. You snot way too much when you cry. And of course that thought made it even harder for me not to bawl.
“Listen to me, Zoey. I’m your Guardian. You’re my queen; that’s more than a High Priestess, so our bond is even stronger than a regular Oath Sworn Warrior’s.”
I blinked hard. “That’s good, ’cause it feels like bad stuff keeps trying to tear me away from everyone I love.”
“Nothing will ever take me away from you, Z. I’ve sworn my oath on it.” He smiled, and there was such confidence and trust and love in his eyes that he made my breath catch in my throat. “You’ll never get rid of me, mo ba
“Good,” I said softly, leaning my head against his shoulder as he drew me inside the half circle of his arm. “I’m tired of the whole leaving thing.”
He kissed my forehead, murmuring against my skin, “Yeah, me, too.”
“Actually, I think the truth is that I’m tired. Period. I need to recharge, too.” I looked up at him. “Would it be okay with you if we stayed here? I-I just don’t want to leave and go back to … to…” I hesitated, not sure how to put what I was feeling into words.
“To everything—the good and the bad. I know what you mean,” said my Guardian. “It’s cool with Sgiach?”
“She said we could stay as long as my conscience lets me,” I said, smiling a little wryly. “And right now my conscience is definitely letting me.”
“Sounds good to me. I’m in no rush to get back to all the Neferet drama that’s gotta be waiting for us.”
“So we stay for a while?”
Stark hugged me. “We stay until you say to go.”
I closed my eyes and rested in Stark’s arms, feeling like a huge weight had been taken off me. When he asked, “Hey, would you do something with me?” my response was instant and easy: “Yep, anything.”
I could feel him chuckling. “That answer makes me want to change what I was go
“Not that kind of anything.” I gave him a little shove, even though I was feeling waves of relief that Stark was definitely acting like Stark again.
“No?” His gaze went from my eyes to my lips, and he suddenly looked less cocky and more hungry—and that look made my stomach shiver. Then he bent and kissed me, hard and long, and he completely took my breath away. “Are you sure you don’t mean that kind of anything?” he asked, his voice lower and gruffer than usual.
“No. Yes.”
He gri
“I don’t know. I can’t think when you kiss me like that,” I told him honestly.
“Then I’ll have to do more of that kind of kissing,” he said.
“Okay,” I said, feeling light-headed and weirdly weak-kneed.
“Okay,” he repeated. “But later. Right now I’m going to show you how strong a Guardian I am and stick to the original question I was go
I hesitated for only a second—only long enough to feel the sharp pain that was the absence of Heath, the absence of a future thread that could never be—and then I blinked my eyes clear of tears and answered my Guardian Warrior.
“Yes, Stark, I’ll tie my wishes and dreams for the future with you.”