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She did not realize that she wouldn’t be alone.

It wasn’t until Edom had fallen asleep that Jake finally relaxed, and so he’d settled back against a tree branch, legs extended and ankles crossed, with Raquel directly in his sight. He eventually fell asleep only for her to be the subject of his dreams—again—and they were much more vivid this time. He blamed theiractualkiss for that.

Fates, that kiss.

It had simultaneously ripped him apart and sewn him back together.

When dawn arrived, he’d watched the girl rise to consciousness, watched his brother grab her arms and pull her to her feet and hold on to her. It took every ounce of Jake’s willpower not to manifest. The wind was the best he could do, but thankfully it had worked and set Edom firmly upon his goal.

So they continued, keeping this irritatingly slow pace through the wood while Jake followed behind. The occasional cry of a Depraved echoed through the mist, but they never drew nearer, and Jake wondered what Edom had done to keep them so preoccupied.

No, Jake feared what Edom had done.

Again, Edom stopped at nightfall. Again, they situated Raquel. Again, Jake watched from a high branch until she fell asleep upon her side; however, her features did not relax in sleep, and her body shuddered with cold.

Jake looked to Edom, who had passed out with drink. Two of his guards sat watch, gazing in opposite directions.

Worthless.

Jake slid down from his perch and crept into their camp, his footfalls silent upon the soft earth. He walked right past one of the guards on watch, invisible due to his glamour. The guard, however, sat upright, and one hand went to his sword on reflex as he scanned their surroundings. But he did not see Jake—could not. He merely sensed what his eyes could not see.

And Jake waited.

He waited until the guard’s posture relaxed, and then Jake crept on.

To Raquel.

He knelt behind her, close but not touching. Hesitant to touch, but also feeling this overwhelming urge to be nearer to her. Jake crouched there, deliberating. Somehow he knew that if he crossed this boundary, he would never come back.

Except.

He had the distinct impression he had already crossed. Because it had nearly killed him to see the look on her face when she had realized it had all been a lie.

You have lied so well and for so long that you can’t even recognize truth anymore.

Another shudder rolled through Raquel’s body, and that decided him. Quietly, carefully, he lay down behind her, slid his arm around her waist and drew her back against him. Her body relaxed against him, into his warmth.

He remembered his dream, and he glanced down to where her belly had been full and rounded with child.

Raquel sighed, rolled into him, and buried her face in his chest.

Something cracked inside Jake’s own.

His hand slid up her back and into her hair—such soft and luxurious hair—where the cloth was tied. He worked quickly and slipped the tie free, then tucked the gag into his pocket, untied her wrists, and tossed that rope aside.

“Please don’t leave, Jake,” she murmured against his chest.

Jake’s chest tightened, and he drew her closer. “You do not know what you ask of me,” he whispered so softly, and then he wondered if, perhaps, she did.

19

Raquel first noticed the kiss of cold. She’d been unusually warm and comfortable, and then suddenly she was not. The warmth had pulled away and left a seeping chill behind, and Raquel opened her eyes.

Her first thought was of Jake.

She’d dreamed of him again, and yet she could have sworn it was real. That he’d untied her gag, that his arms had slid around her waist, that he’d breathed into her hair and whispered words she could not recall. She could still smell the sweet scent of spring that seemed to cling to his clothes, and she could still feel the weight of his embrace, heavy and comforting, just as she could acutely feel the absence of it.

She didn’t know why her heart persisted in this—in its feelings for him—or why it had latched so desperately and defiantly onto a dream.