Page 52

“It means,” I tell her, brushing my lips along the back of her knuckles, “that you’re mine. And I’m yours. We’ve belonged to one another for our entire lives, even if we only found out yesterday.”

Allie shivers despite the warmth of the water. “Humans don’t have mates.”

“And you’re no longer just human.”

Her head snaps up. “What? What am I?”

I can only shrug, partly because it hardly matters to me what she is as long as she’s mine, and partly because I’m not quite certain. “You’re a Tithe bride. You’re mated and married to a demon. Your life span is already changing to match mine, and your magick is becoming bound up in this realm.

“Listen to your heart, little witch,” I say between soft kisses against her skin. “Listen to your soul. You know there’s a magick between us, let it in.” She stiffens at something I just said and I pull back, searching her face. “What is it?”

“That’s just it, isn’t it? It’s only magick.”

She sounds so dejected, so disappointed, and something in the mournful tone and the deep sadness in her eyes clues me into why.

“You’re a witch who doesn’t trust in magick?”

Allie shakes her head. “It’s not that… it’s just…”

When she trails off into silence, I give her another encouraging little kiss. “Help me understand, love.”

The endearment draws a harsh, shaking breath from her. I’d think it was a misstep if it wasn’t for the way I feel some more of her tension leave her.

We sit like that for a few long seconds. Her body melts into the hardening contours of mine, fitting into all the places I never realized were so empty, waiting to be filled by her. The silence stretches so long that I almost speak up and offer another encouragement when Allie speaks again.

“I’ve had no reason to trust in magick. It’s never been something I’m comfortable with, not considering how little of it I was born with.”

While she speaks, she hovers her hand over the water and a few glittering drops rise easily up into her touch. The familiar, rain-sweet smell of her magick rises as well, and I inhale it greedily.

“Well. At least I didn’t have much of it before I came here.”

The droplets skate and dance up over the tips of her fingers and along the back of her hand for a moment before she flicks them away and shakes her head.

“Just tricks,” she mutters. “Small magick even children can do.”

“Lovely magick,” I correct gently, looking at the floating witchlights and rose petals. “Don’t diminish your abilities for anyone’s sake, least of all mine. And you’ve been in this realm for a single day. Who’s to say your power won’t continue to grow in time?”

“Who’s to say it will?” she challenges. “Did Emilia’s?”

I think for a moment. “I believe it did, initially, yes. Through all the centuries of Tithe brides and demon spouses, there’s always been something agreeable about witchmagick and this realm. Though, Emilia resided far from here when she first came to the realm, so I don’t know that firsthand. Her husband’s home is in another part of the kingdom.”

“And when she came here?” Allie’s question is soft, damning.

“By the time she came here to work with Vayla on a fix for the bargain, she was already weakening.”

Allie falls silent at that, but she doesn’t move away. Her hand hovers over the water again and she draws more droplets up from its surface. Instead of just dancing along the edges of her skin, though, they sway in the air around her hand. I glance at her face and its creased in concentration as she watches the water move.

“Is Emilia mated with her husband?”

I shake my head. The motion brushes my cheek over the soft silk of her hair. “No, she isn’t.”

Just the thought of it pulls at something sharp and tender in my heart. The idea of mates being ripped apart after they’re bonded… in some ways, death would be a kinder fate.

Allie’s small water ballet continues, expanding outwards until we’re surrounded by a living cascade.

Reaching over the side of the tub, I grab a cloth and a bar of pine soap and begin tending to her. Her small moans and sighs of pleasure echo through me, but it’s only tenderness I want to give her now. We spend the next few minutes touching and caressing, washing and teasing until the sparks between us reignite. When I hit a particularly sensitive spot, all her droplets fall over us in a miniature rainstorm.

As much as I want her, though, something about the moment still feels off.