Page 47 of Blackwarden

I found him in the hall, his long hair a mess around his horns where he’d pulled it back from his face, his wings tight against his back, a paintbrush in one hand and a palette in the other.

When I woke to find him gone, I’d panicked, worried something had happened.

He’d never risen earlier than I had. He usually watched me sleep until I woke before he’d take me into his arms.

He was a gentle lover, and I suspected it was from the years of abuse at the hands of the Hag Queen.

It was hard for me to imagine everything she’d put him through and how he could ever want to be touched again.

It made me cherish every caress, every kiss, every moment together even more.

The way my pale hand looked as it smoothed over his gorgeous dark, silver skin.

It had been a few months since he’d destroyed the portal, and I’d noticed small changes in him, things I wondered if I might have imagined.

The color of his hair had darkened. His tarnished silver complexion had taken on a purple tint on his cheeks.

The biggest change had been around his eyes from always smiling.

Maybe it was just happiness? His existence as Bevgyah’s consort for hundreds of years had destroyed his hope.

I needed him to never lose it again because his laugh was quickly becoming one of my most favorite sounds in the world.

“Here you are.” I came to stand beside him. “Did you sleep?”

He hadn’t anticipated the amount of rest he’d need as a mortal, and I felt like I was constantly reminding him.

He’d covered a large section of the wall with sprawling hills of grass that flowed into fields of wheat, interrupted by the occasional tiny farmhouse. It reminded me of Fennigsville, and I couldn’t help but wonder how my family was doing, a sudden ache to see them writhing through me.

He stood back to admire his work before he glanced over at me. “I’ve seen this place in my dreams.”

“It’s my home,” I blurted out, wondering if there was some strange Fae magic still at work. Maybe it was the Gatehouse, which had thankfully retained its sentient charm.

He said he hadn’t been able to feel my emotions since he’d destroyed the portal, but I wondered if he still had a tiny connection to the Earth Mother. If he ever managed to return to his home through one of the other Fae portals, could he regain his magic and his immortality?

“I’d like to go there,” he said as he took a step toward me, paintbrush and palette still in hand.

A sudden rush of jealousy gripped my heart.

I didn’t know if I was ready to share him with anyone.

Keres was gorgeous— arrestingly gorgeous.

He would draw attention anywhere he went.

Even more so for his distinctly Fae traits.

It was hard to hide horns and wings when you didn’t have the magic to glamour yourself.

He leaned down to kiss me and my thoughts were instantly banished. This was a promise, a claim. No one else mattered but us at that moment.

Would I ever tire of this? Of him? Of us? The paintbrush and palette hit the tile and clattered away as he pressed me against the wall. I knew the answer to my own question .

No, I would never be tired of this. I would never be tired of him, or the way he made me feel alive, precious—completely his.

“Ms. Greene,” he said, voice low and breathy, pulling me deeper into him.

“Yes, Keres?” I breathed, my pulse racing.

“What do you want, my love?”

I couldn’t take in breath fast enough as he kissed down my neck, his lips leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. A grin spread across my lips. I knew what I wanted.

“My midnight apple.”

He smirked, a wicked gleam in his eyes, as he swept me into his arms.