Page 140 of Wicked Magik

Candlelight caught the copper and wheat highlights in Sylvaine's long, curled red hair as he stood with his arms clasped behind his back, gazing out over the courtyard with practiced indifference.

Right where Oryx, Vesper and I had stood.

Fuck.

Without turning from the window, Sylvaine's voice cut through the silence. "Quite the intimate display I witnessed in the courtyard. Had I known I'd be interrupting such a... tender moment, I might have announced myself." When he finally faced me, his amused expression met my cold stare.

Sylvaine grinned, a long fang touching his lower lip. “Come now, Veylor, I’m only joking. Your secret is safe with me. Don’t know why you would want to keep it a secret though. These are better times.”

My shoulders eased slightly. Only just.

“I’ve come here because of your inquiry about the strand of hair—”

"—No," I cut him off with a sharp wave of my hand. "I've heard enough." I crossed to the refreshment cart Benedict had prepared for our unwelcomed guest and lifted the crystal stopper from a decanter. The mead gurgled into my glass, amber and potent.

Sylvaine quirked a brow and brought his hand up to his jaw. His finger tapped lightly on his cheek. “Really, how curious.”

A low meow caught my attention as George wound between my ankles. The cat slunk past Sylvaine with an arched back and bared teeth, then leapt onto my favorite chair by the hearth, claiming it with a possessive curl of his tail.

“Ignore the feline, he hates strangers.” I waved my glass toward George. “And you’re right, I don’t care anymore. You don’t have to tell me what else she is. I know she’s part human and that’s all I need to know.” I took a sip of my drink, ignoring Sylvaine’s stare.

With languid strides, he circled the desk and perched on its edge, invading my space with a predatory lean. "Those striking features of hers—snow-white hair, violet eyes—remind you of anyone in particular among our kind?"

I hummed. “Perhaps.”

He chuckled. “But what kind of fae I wonder?” He crossed his arms. “White similar to yours, like the Shadow Court. Has she ever said if she knew who her father was?”

I squeezed the glass in my hand and it burst into pieces, scattering across the floor.

It was impossible. The mate bond wouldn't…couldn't…form between blood relations. Every instinct in my body had recognized her as mine from the first moment. The gods themselves wouldn't be so cruel as to bind siblings together with this primal, unbreakable connection.

Panic surged through me at what Sylvaine was implying.

Darkness erupted from my skin like ink in water while shadowed tendrils snaked between my fingers. The library convulsed around me…leather-bound volumes tearing from their shelves, ancient pages scattering through the air like startled birds.

Sylvaine slid off the table, his laughter filling the room. As my storm of power subsided, autumn leaves materialized around him, spinning in graceful spirals on currents of his own conjured wind.

“By the Shadows, you are so easy to rile up, my friend!”

I was not his friend, I was no one’s friend. I wiped my hand down my face at the audacity of this male.

“Get out,” I snarled and tossed the cart filled with drinks and food. “Get the fuck out of my house and don’t come back!”

Panic filled Sylvaine’s face and the leaves dropped to the ground. He held out his hands and rushed toward me. “Wait, no wait!”

I shook my head, my hair falling from my hair tie.

To think he had me believe I had kissed my sister.

“It was a bloody joke, you are always so tense. Come sit down, I must tell you who she is related to. You need to hear this.”

My hand was on the door and I turned back to him. “Then why are you acting like a fool? If I need to hear this so badly?”

Sylvaine shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve been lonely for a long while. I’ve forgotten how to act.”

Averting my gaze, I rolled my shoulders and strode toward the hearth. George had claimed my armchair, curled into aperfect circle of fur and contentment. I exhaled a low growl of resignation before settling onto the couch, motioning with a curt flick of my wrist for Sylvaine to take the opposite end.

Vesper had said once before, never to disturb a sleeping cat.