“Then quit feeling sorry for yourself and help me figure out how to fucking do something about it, okay?”
He pushed my hand away and faced the table.
Okay, fine. To Amalie, I asked, “Once this thing possesses a host, can it be expelled?”
“The death of the host body ejects the Tainted, yes,” Amalie said. “It will be momentarily weakened, rendering it vulnerable to expulsion beyond the Break. However, sending something back across, as bringing it forward, requires great knowledge of the inner workings of our oldest magic.”
“Can you do it?”
She shook her head, light sparkling off her jewels. “Few possess the knowledge, and I am acquainted with none of them, save Tovin.”
“What about the other elves?”
“At this late hour, attempting contact will take too much time, and there is no guarantee they will share their knowledge.”
I blew hard between clenched teeth. “Okay, so what about capture? Let’s say it infects someone and the host dies. Can we catch the Tainted before it finds another host? Like in a crystal or something?”
“I know of no such method of capture, but that does not mean none exist.”
Wyatt snorted. I glared, but he didn’t acknowledge me.
“Can you find out?” I asked the sprite leader.
“Of course.”
It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Only, Wyatt didn’t seem willing to acknowledge the hopeful information. I gave up. He could wallow for a while, but I didn’t want to see it. I put some food on a plate and poured another goblet of wine.
“Amalie, my apologies,” I said. “May I finish my meal in my room?”
The sprite nodded, her demeanor cool and calm, as if our argument had never happened. We’d figured it out. We knew who our enemies were. We just needed time to plan a counterattack and beat Tovin at his own twisted game.
At the door, I spared a look back at Wyatt. He didn’t turn around. I sighed and left.
Chapter 22
23:25
My patience vanished with the last of the wine. The assortment of fruit, nuts, and raw vegetables had filled the ache in my stomach and refueled my energy, but could do nothing for a different ache. That went deeper, the wound more raw.
So many things had happened in the last two days that Tovin had never factored into his plan. I had woken up in a different body than planned—a fortuitous, if unexplainable, turn of events—so Wyatt and I hadn’t been imprisoned immediately and for the duration of the pact. Being out in the world, I’d managed to gather more evidence of the coming power shift and shown Tovin for the traitor he was. I had hurt people along the way—my heart still ached for Alex—but had it been worth it? All of the pain, both physical and emotional, in order to prevent the Break from being crossed?
I paced the length of the room, hands clasped behind my back. Melodies of harmony and peace, not quite real music, danced in the air. I hadn’t noticed it before, and yet it seemed like the background noise had always been there—part of the lives of the Fair Ones who lived in an underground cave and guarded the gate to Hell.
It sounded absurd, but no more so than the idea of a twenty-two-year-old who served unofficial warrants on vampires, goblins, half-Bloods, and weres for a living. Or a twenty-seven-year-old barista and part-time college student who committed suicide in time for a murdered girl’s soul to possess her body. Why this body? Why Chalice and not the Hunter Tovin chose?
The answer was probably in her past, but that had been erased—except for the hard copies Wyatt had requested. Was it worth getting her history? Did it really matter why Chalice? Not really, not when possessing her had been a stroke of sheer luck. The first wrench in Tovin’s wheel.
On one pass from the bed to the far wall, I spotted a shadow by the door and stopped. Wyatt stood just inside, half his body still covered by the curtain. His color was back to normal. He’d lost the shell shock and seemed almost sheepish, both in his half smile and the slump of his shoulders.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
“You’re already halfway in. Might as well come the rest of the way.”
He did, but stayed close to the door. Ten feet of empty air separated us, but it might as well have been ten miles. He shifted from foot to foot as he gazed around the room. My attention kept dropping to his chest—rippling with perfectly toned muscles, glistening with scented oil, the scars of the last few days washed away by gnome magic. Too bad the gnomes didn’t have an oil to heal the internal wounds, too.
“You were right,” he said. “Tovin manipulated all of this, and by sitting and wallowing in self-pity, I’m letting him manipulate me again. I won’t do that anymore, Evy. I may not see a way out of this yet, but if this really is our last day together, I want to spend every second of it with you.”
“Preferably not fighting?”
“Doing anything except fighting.”
“Did you have something else in mind?”
He didn’t reply. Not long ago, he’d said I looked like a goddess. Even with the wine stain and our most recent argument, the sentiment was reflected in his expression. I remembered yesterday’s kiss. The heat of his lips, the spicy taste of him. The way my heart had raced, and how strongly this body wanted him. Then I remembered the moment memory overcame desire, and I’d pulled away. God damn Kelsa for what she’d done.
So many words perched on the tip of my tongue. Reasons why and why not. Words of comfort, and words to shut him down. Standing one day from oblivion, I didn’t know what I wanted, so I chose silence. Words were useless while my mind remained uncertain, muddled by fear and indecision—two weaknesses I despised, both in myself and others.
I sat on the corner of the grand, silk-covered bed. The sheer dress whispered around my ankles. An answering rustle of fabric accompanied Wyatt across the room. He knelt in front of me, eye-level now, warm hands gently grasping my thighs just above the knee. The touch of his skin, both innocent and urgent, loosed those damned butterflies. Heat speared my abdomen, as welcome as it was uninvited.
“You know what I have in mind, Evy,” he said, a husky edge to his voice that made my heart hammer. Onyx eyes seemed to look right through me. I wanted to ask what he saw there, if he could read me better than I could read myself. Could he see the real Evy buried deep inside? The one he loved so much?
I licked my lips, mouth dry. He interpreted it as an invitation. I closed my eyes and allowed the kiss. His lips moved against mine, soft but insistent. No clashing teeth, no inhibiting steel bars. Just us and the tingling heat everywhere we touched. His fingers caressed my throat and wandered back to tangle in my hair. My lips parted, allowing him entrance to my mouth, and for a moment we shared the same breath. His tongue traced along my upper lip, sending delicious tingles through my belly.
I parted my knees, allowing him closer. He shifted forward. The flimsy material of our clothing created a meager barrier. I felt the heat of his arousal straining against my inner thigh. A tremor surged through my chest, down to my legs, but it brought no warmth—only a bracing chill and a weak cry deep in my throat.
His tongue darted into my mouth, stroked across my teeth, misinterpreting that cry. I tried to meet his tongue with mine, but no longer felt his heat. I felt only cold and a new, terrible ache deep in my gut. He trailed cool fingertips along my back. I raked my fingers down his bare chest and earned a soft moan. His hand stopped to caress the sensitive small of my back.
No longer so sensitive. Phantom agony speared my stomach, from belly button to spine. I felt cold skin all over me, and putrid breath in my face. Misery and death moving in and out of me with brutal strokes. Memories of torture awoken so innocently by the love of a man who had risked his life and bargained away his free will, and all for me.
I shuddered. He broke the kiss. Warm hands cupped my cheeks. Thumbs brushed away tears I hadn’t felt fall. I grabbed his wrists and squeezed. My chest was tight. My legs trembled. I didn’t open my eyes.
