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Arcturus sat on the end of the bed. I went to stand in front of him, meeting his fiery gaze.

‘The night we met, I saw your face and knew that you could be the end of me. This night, I fear the same,’ he said. ‘Have mercy, Underqueen.’

His voice was dark and soft, sending a shiver over my skin. I answered by slipping off my underwear, leaving me in nothing but the singlet.

‘You’ll have to earn it,’ I said, brushing strands of brown hair off his forehead.

‘As you decree.’ When he offered me a hand, I accepted. By unspoken agreement, he lay with his back against the pillows, and I knelt across his waist, my calves lying on either side of his thighs.

‘I thought I would never see you again,’ I murmured. ‘I still can’t believe you’re here.’

‘So we both are, against the odds.’ He kept hold of my hand. ‘I know you are not inclined towards flattery, but I confess to being wonderstruck, to have you in my bed again.’

‘Don’t be too surprised. You seem to be the only person with a liking for chaotic Irish dreamwalkers.’ I kissed the mount at the base of his thumb. ‘But even if you weren’t, I’m all yours.’

‘Such is my honour.’

A hush fell as we both looked at our intertwined fingers. This would have been nerve-racking even at the start of our relationship, when both of us had been less scarred, inside and out.

‘I know you might need to take it slow,’ I said. ‘Tell me if you need to stop.’

‘If you will do the same.’

I nodded. When our lips met, I melted into his embrace, trying not to grip him too hard.

We took our time, even though I was burning for him. Two hundred and thirty-eight days was a long time to go without holding each other. He still touched me as if I really was a martlet, delicate from years of flight, but I had never felt stronger. When he edged my singlet up to my ribs, I stripped it off and threw it aside.

‘Patience never was your virtue, Paige.’

‘Don’t even start with me.’ I steered his willing hands to my waist. ‘You’ve given me enough simmering looks, you infuriating tower of muscle.’

He countered me with the softest kiss, lingering on the bow of my lips. I knew when he was teasing me, but I had told him he could be slow, and he would surely hold me to it.

By now I was nearly as hot as the fire. He mapped the bruising on my shoulder, checking where to be gentlest, then skirted the underside of my breast. I clasped his whole hand to it. His self-control was exhilarating, but I wanted him to indulge himself. As the callused warmth of his palm enfolded me, I parted his lips, winning a resolute kiss that left my legs weak and my heart pounding. A thousand small chills blossomed where our bodies pressed together.

The cord guided me across his sarx. Now I knew he wanted my touch, I couldn’t get enough of him under my hands. I ran them over his broad shoulders and chest, across his upper arms. I wanted to surround him with warmth, crushing all his memories of Carcassonne.

He couldn’t forget, like I might, in the end. The years would not dull the teeth of his torture. But I could give him fresh memories, better ones.

As he devoted his attention to my breasts, I turned mine to the scars on his back. When I felt one I didn’t remember, I slowed. It wasn’t as cold as the others, but it stood out from the rest of his sarx. I followed its course, only to find more. There were scores of them, lying close to each other, layered over the older scars from the poltergeist.

‘An opaline blade.’ His voice was low. ‘Do not be troubled. These ones will not always pain me.’

I tried not to imagine the blade carving his sarx. Before I could draw enough breath to answer, he tilted my chin up again and kissed the hollow of my throat.

‘Show me,’ he said. ‘Write me the notes.’

Well, if he wanted a distraction, I would give him one. I moved his hand between my legs.

Arcturus leaned in close, eyes on fire. He propped his chin on my shoulder, and I placed a light kiss on his temple, my breath already coming short. The most sensitive part of me, unbearably soft against his fingertips. I felt utterly defenceless and fragile, like there was nothing left but him between me and the world.

My own fingertips pressed into his shoulders as he began to explore me. Now he was exactly where I wanted him, the empty ache only grew, becoming so vast and all-consuming that it erased my thoughts of anything but him.

Arcturus circled just inside. He skimmed a little higher, nudging that pinpoint of nerve endings, each touch a revelation. Not since Paris had I been so aware of one small part of my body, which now shaped every feeling as my senses centred on it.

He glided along the edges of me. I breathed his name like an invocation. The cord was taut between us, threatening to snap, but it held strong, like his restraint. He was as much a Reph as ever, only his eyes betraying his desire – but if I had wanted human, I wouldn’t be here with him.

Out of nowhere, I remembered Suhail. Arcturus felt me tense and stopped.