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“Ella,” he replies. From the way he says it I know he’s saying “I love you” too.

He slides into me, and with every inch my pleasure goes deeper and my moans get louder.

“Stars, you feel so good,” he grunts, dipping his head to kiss my spine. I twist my hips, rubbing myself against his fingers while grinding against his cock. The twin sensations send me shuddering dangerously close to another climax. He notices, because he grabs my hips to still them.

“No, not yet,” he says, and I shiver at the command in his voice.

Then he pulls out and thrusts back into me again. And again. And again. I buck against him, meeting each stroke, until we’re in perfect sync, each movement pushing him deeper, until I’m sure I can’t take any more. He increases his speed, and as his breaths become more labored and his grunts more guttural, he sets his fingers moving with deliberateness over my clit again, working me into a frenzy.

This is a first time for me too, I realize. I haven’t had Ruskin like this since I accepted the bond. It sets our lovemaking alight, the golden bridge connecting us glowing with the force of our emotions, until it feels as bright as the sun. I reach out across it, sending all my love and joy, my ecstasy. Behind me, I hear Ruskin gasp.

I feel like I’m on fire, like I’m going to burst into flames if I sustain another moment of this exquisite, carnal rhythm. Just when I think I really will combust, Ruskin takes me to the hilt, filling me completely and sending me tumbling over into oblivion. I shatter apart, clamping my muscles down around him, so that he roars and spills into me. Without disconnecting our bodies he pulls me up against him, twisting my head towards his so that he can kiss me, caressing my tongue with his. I gasp against him, reveling in the feeling of him inside me in so many ways. My orgasm doesn’t so much fade as sink more deeply into my muscles, bathing them in an exquisite glow.

“Ella, I love you,” he says between kisses—five times, then ten—and I know I’ll never get tired of him saying it, not when I had to wait to hear it again, to have this again.

We lay down beside each other, exchanging lazy touches and basking in our closeness for the rest of the afternoon. Eventually night falls and the stars come out to shine down on us through the wide window. Lying there, sated and safe beside Ruskin, I feel a kinship with them: specks of light shining out brightly, even though a dark night is crowding in all around them.

Chapter 14

When I wake the next morning, Ruskin is gone, but there’s a note from him on the pillow beside me. It says that Maidar arrived early for their session, and Ruskin didn’t want to wake me. Almost immediately, the mellow peace I was carrying when I woke up tightens into a small knot in my stomach. We didn’t talk about it yesterday, too wrapped up in each other, but I don’t like these experiments. I might have been the one who pushed Ruskin to try to get his memories back at first, but I don’t want it at the cost of his well-being. When I stumbled in on him yesterday, I could tell he was hurting. I worry he will push himself too far, and Maidar won’t think to stop him in time.

I rise and dress, telling myself that I’m probably worrying too much—but I’m not very convincing. No matter how many times I tell myself that I should go sniff out some food—I’m pretty hungry after yesterday’s activities—or find out whatever Destan’s getting up to, my fears won’t let me. In the end, I leave my room determined to find Ruskin and Maidar, if only to keep an eye on whatever risky experiment they’re trying next.

Which turns out to be…reading.

I find them in the first place I look: Maidar’s house, hunched over a pile of scrolls. When Ruskin sees me, his face rapidly shifts from concentration to a warm smile, lighting up his face, and I’m momentarily dazzled. I smile back, thinking I might be blushing, and wonder what’s wrong with me. I feel giddy, even distracted—like when I first fell for him, except without so much fear and doubt. I don’t think we’re being very subtle, because Maidar stomps past us muttering something grumpy about trying to work with people ogling each other.

“I thought you’d be doing more spells,” I say, trying to regain my composure.

Ruskin grimaces. “That particular route wasn’t getting us as far as we’d hoped.”

Maidar drops a pile of books onto the table with a thud.

“It wasn’t getting us anywhere at all,” he says, waving one of the books around. “I was sure that his memories were locked away behind other suppressed parts of his subconscious, but Stiltskin’s turned over just about every stone in that part of his mind and we’re no closer to finding them.”

It occurs to me Maidar might have been overly optimistic, thinking Ruskin had his memories still buried within him. Interra could have removed them permanently, couldn’t it? I look between the two fae, and the frustrated expressions on their faces tell me they’re thinking the same thing.

“So what now?” I ask.

“We need a new theory,” says Maidar, scanning the book before him. “But that takes time.”

“In that case, I think I’ll take a break, Cragfoot,” Ruskin says, standing and stretching his legs.

“Yes, fine, fine,” Maidar replies, not looking up from the book as he waves us away.

We wait until we’ve closed his front door behind us, then Ruskin pins me against the frame, kissing me until I’m breathless. The memories of yesterday swell up in my mind, making heat coil at my core, and I wonder how quickly Ruskin and I can get back to our room for that “break” he mentioned.

“I missed you when I woke up,” I say, enjoying the way the muscles of his arm flex as I stroke my fingers along them.

But then he makes an unhappy face. “I’m sorry, I’d forgotten about my appointment with Cragfoot, but I decided it was too important to miss.” He gently brushes a strand of my hair away. “The sooner we get answers, the sooner I can get my memories back.”

My eyes drop to the ground. I feel guilty again about pushing this. After all, Ruskin still loves me without his memories, and I love him. It feels almost selfish, demanding more.

“Maybe you were right before, about priorities. So far you’ve been managing surprisingly well without them, and even I can see we have bigger problems.”

He looks at me like he sees right through me.

“Ella, I want to remember. The more time we spend together, the more I realize what I’m missing. I want to know what it was like, the first time I saw you, or when I was getting to know you, or the first time we made love.” His eyes fall to my lips, and as I wonder what colorful scenarios he’s imagining, I grin at the real memory, the blush returning to my cheeks.