Текст книги "Burned"

Автор книги: P. C. Cast

Соавторы: Kristin Cast,P. C. Cast
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Текущая страница: 21 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

Chapter 29

Zoey

The shock I felt when Kalona materialized above Stark was terrible. The sight of him brought back everything that had happened in that last moment on that last day, before my world exploded in death and despair and guilt. Fully formed, his amber gaze met mine, and I was frozen by the sadness I saw there, and by the memory of how I’d looked into his eyes before and believed I’d glimpsed humanity, kindness, even love.

I’d been so, so wrong.

Heath had died because of how wrong I’d been.

Then Kalona’s gaze moved from me back to Stark, as my Warrior taunted him.

No! Oh, Goddess! Please make him be quiet. Please make him run back to me.

But Stark seemed to like taunting Kalona. He wouldn’t shut up; he didn’t run. Horror filled me as Kalona plucked the spear from the sky. His wings cut a hole in the ground and then he and Stark disappeared into its blackness.

It was then I realized that Stark was also going to die because of me.

“No!” The soundless scream tore from deep inside me, where everything felt empty and hopeless and restless. I needed to run—to keep moving—to escape from what was happening here.

I couldn’t handle it. There wasn’t enough of me left to handle it.

But if I didn’t handle it, Stark would die.

“No.” This time the word wasn’t a ghostly, soundless scream. It was my voice—my voice, and not that awful not-here crap that had been babbling out of my mouth.

“Stark. Can. Not. Die.” I tasted the words and followed their form and familiarity, listening for myself, as I stepped from the grove and headed to the black hole in the ground inside of which my Warrior had disappeared.

When the hole opened at my feet, I looked down to see Stark and Kalona facing each other in the middle of it. Stark was holding a gleaming sword in both of his hands against Kalona’s dark spear.

I realized then that it wasn’t just a hole in the ground. It was an arena. Kalona had created an arena with high walls, unbroken and slick. Walls that couldn’t be climbed.

Kalona had Stark trapped. Now he couldn’t run, even if he would listen to me. He couldn’t escape. He also couldn’t possibly win. And Kalona wouldn’t be happy with beating Stark up a little—or even a lot. Kalona meant to kill Stark.

The restless numbness started to smother me again as Stark faced Kalona. I let my feet move but forced myself to stay where I could see the adversaries, walking the circumference of the arena as, unbelievably, Stark attacked the fallen immortal.

Laughing cruelly, Kalona deflected the sword with a flick of the spear, and with a movement so blindingly fast there was no way Stark could have seen it coming, Kalona smashed his open hand into Stark’s face with ferocious, sneering disdain. Stark’s forward momentum carried him awkwardly past the immortal, and he fell to the ground, holding his hands over his ears like he was trying to ease the pain in his head.

“A Guardian claymore—that’s amusing. So you think you can stand with them?” Kalona spoke while Stark regained his balance and turned to face him again, his sword held up before him.

Blood trickled from Stark’s ears, nose, and lips, making thin scarlet threads down his chin and neck. “I don’t think I’m a Guardian. I am a Guardian.”

“You can’t be. I know your past, boy. I’ve seen you embrace Darkness. Tell the Guardians about that and then see if they still want you.”

“The only other person who can make, or unmake, me a Guardian is my queen, and she knows about me and my past.”

I watched Stark lunge again. With a disdainful sneer, Kalona used the spear to brush aside the blade. This time when he hit Stark, it was with his closed fist, and the force of it broke his nose and bloodied his cheekbones, knocking my Warrior to his back.

I held my breath, watching helplessly for what I knew would be Kalona’s killing blow.

But the immortal didn’t do anything except laugh while Stark struggled painfully to his feet. “Zoey isn’t a queen. She isn’t strong enough. She’s just a weak girl who let herself be shattered by the death of one human boy,” Kalona said.

“You’re wrong. Zoey isn’t weak; she cares! And about that human boy? That’s part of the reason I’m here. I need to collect the life debt you owe for killing him.”

“Fool! It’s only Zoey who can collect that debt!”

With those words, it was as if Kalona had taken his spear and sliced through the fog of guilt that had been blanketing me since I’d watched him twist Heath’s neck, allowing everything to become very clear to me.

I might not see myself as a queen—or as much of anything sometimes—but Stark believed in me. Heath believed in me. Stevie Rae believed in me. Even Aphrodite believed in me.

And, as Stevie Rae would have said, Kalona was as wrong as manboobs.

Caring about others didn’t make me weak. It was the choices that I’d made because of that caring that defined me.

I’d let love shatter me once, and as I watched Kalona play with my Warrior, my Guardian, I chose to let honor heal me.

And that, finally, made my decision.

I turned my back on the arena and moved quickly to the edge of the Goddess’s grove. Blocking out the sense of restlessness that threatened to pull me ever forward without really taking me anywhere, I made myself stand still. Spreading my arms wide I focused first on the last spirit who had spoken to me.

“Brighid! I need my strength back!”

The redhead materialized before me. She looked like a Goddess herself, all fiery and tall, full of power and confidence that I didn’t have.

“No,” I corrected myself out loud. “The power and confidence are mine. I just lost them for a while.”

“Ready to accept them back?” she said, familiar eyes meeting mine.

“I am.”

“Well, it’s about time.” She stepped forward and put her arms around me, pulling me close to her in an embrace that was as strong as it was intimate. My arms closed around her, and with that acceptance she dissolved against my skin, and I was filled with a surge of heat that was power—pure power.

“One down,” I muttered. “Get your butt in gear, girl.”

I spread my arms again. This time my feet stayed planted firmly on the earth and the desire to move, search, flee, flowed over and past me, harmless as spring rain.

“I need my joy back!”

My nine-year-old self didn’t materialize. She bounded from the grove. Giggling, she hurled herself into my arms. I caught her, and, as she yelled, “Yippee!” she soaked into my soul.

Laughing, I spread my arms again. Joy and strength allowed me to accept the last of my missing soul—compassion.

“A-ya, I need you back, too,” I called into the grove.

The Cherokee maid stepped gracefully from the tree line. “A-de-lv, sister, I am glad to hear you call my name.

“Yeah, well, I can honestly say I’m glad to have you as part of me. I accept you, A-ya. Totally. Will you come back?”

“I’ve been here all along. All you had to do was ask.”

I met her halfway and hugged her hard, bringing her back to me, and in turn, bringing myself back.

“Now, let’s see who’s a weak little girl,” I said, hurrying back to Kalona’s arena.

I stepped to the edge and looked down. Stark was on his knees again. The sight of him squeezed my heart. My Guardian looked awful. His lips were swollen and split wide in a bunch of places. His nose had been smashed crooked and was oozing blood. His left shoulder was a shapeless, dislocated mess, leaving his arm dangling limply at his side. The beautiful sword was lying on the ground, just out of his reach. I could see that the bones of one foot and a kneecap had been shattered, but still Stark struggled along on the ground at Kalona’s feet, hopelessly trying to move closer toward his claymore.

Kalona was hefting his spear as if he was testing the balance of it and studied Stark. “A broken Guardian for a shattered girl. It seems you two fit better together now,” he said.

And that seriously pissed me off.

“You have no idea how tired I am of your crap, Kalona,” I said.

Both of their heads snapped up. I didn’t look away from Kalona, but I could feel Stark’s grin.

“Go back to the grove, Zoey,” Kalona said. “It is better for you there.”

“You know what I really hate? Guys trying to tell me what to do.”

“Yep, my queen, that’s what Heath said.” The grin was in Stark’s voice now, and I had to look at him.

I met his battered gaze, and the pride in me I saw reflected there made my eyes fill with tears. “My Warrior . . .” I whispered to him.

That one instant—my one small mistake—was enough for Kalona. I heard him say, “You should have chosen to return to the grove.” I saw Stark’s eyes widen, and as my gaze flew back to the immortal, Kalona spun around, his right arm stretched back like an ancient warrior god. He released the spear with a burst of strength and speed that I knew I couldn’t—

“No!” I screamed. “Come to me, air!” I leaped into the arena, trusting the element to cushion me, but even as I felt the current catch me, I saw it was too late.

Kalona’s spear struck Stark in the middle of his chest. It traveled through his body, the barbs in the spear shank catching his rib cage and hurling him backward with such momentum that he was impaled against the far wall of the arena with sickening force.

My feet touched the ground, and I was already running to Stark. I reached him, and his gaze met mine. He was still alive!

“Don’t die! Don’t die! I can fix this. I have to be able to fix this.”

Unbelievably, he smiled. “That’s right. My queen won’t let anything shatter her again. Collect your debt, and let’s go home.”

Stark closed his eyes and, with a smile on his broken lips, I watched his body convulse once. Bloody air bubbles foamed around the spear in his chest, and suddenly there was no movement, no sound from him at all. My Warrior was dead.

This time when I faced the being who had just killed someone I loved, I didn’t give in to horror and pain. This time I kept spirit close to me instead of hurling it away, and from it I drew the power of knowledge and let instincts, and not guilt and despair, guide me.

Kalona shook his head. “I wish this could have ended differently. Had you listened to me, accepted me, it would have,” he said.

“Glad to hear you agree with me, ’cause this is going to end differently,” I said. Before I started toward him I picked up Stark’s sword. It was heavier than I thought it was going to be, but it was still warm from Stark’s hand, and that warmth helped me find the strength to lift it.

Kalona’s smile was almost kind. “I won’t fight you. That is my gift to you.” He unfurled his great wings. “Goodbye, Zoey. I will miss you and think of you often.”

“Air, don’t let him leave.” I flung the element at him. His fully spread wings were easily caught, and a mighty gust of wind pinned them against the wall of the arena, eerily mirroring Stark’s final pose.

I walked up to him and, with no hesitation, drove the claymore through his chest.

“That’s for Stark. I know this won’t kill you, but it sure as hell feels good to do it,” I said. “And I know he’ll appreciate it.”

Kalona’s eyes glinted dangerously. “You cannot hold me here forever. And when you finally release me, I will make you pay for this.”

“Okay, see, just like Stark said—you’re wrong. Again. There are different rules in the Otherworld, so I probably could keep you here forever, if I wanted to stay and turn into Crazy Vengeance Girl, but here’s the deal: I already almost turned into one kind of crazy girl. I’m not so much interested in doing that again. Plus, I want to go home. So, here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna pay me the life debt you owe me for killing my consort, Heath Luck, by bringing Stark back to me. Then Stark and me, we’re going home. Oh, and by the way, I don’t care where you’ll be going.”

“You’ve gone mad. I cannot bring the dead back to life.”

“In this case, I think you can. Stark’s body is safe back in the real world, along with mine. We’re in the Otherworld, and it’s all about spirit here. You’re an immortal, which means you’re all about spirit. So you’re gonna take some of your immortal spirit and share it with my Guardian. And bring him back to me. Now. Because you owe it to me. Do you get it? I claim the debt, and it’s time you paid up.”

“You don’t have the power to make me,” Kalona said.

She does not, but I do.

The disembodied words settled down into the arena. I recognized the sound of Nyx’s voice immediately and looked around expectantly, trying to see her. It was Kalona who found her, though. He was staring over my shoulder with an expression that utterly changed his face. It took me a second to recognize it. He’d looked at me with lust, with possessiveness, and even with what he’d called love. But he’d been wrong. He didn’t love me. Kalona loved Nyx.

I followed his gaze and turned to see the Goddess standing beside Stark’s body. One of her hands rested tenderly on his head.

“Nyx!” the immortal’s voice sounded broken and surprisingly young. “My Goddess!”

Nyx’s eyes lifted from Stark’s body, but she didn’t look at Kalona. The Goddess looked at me. She smiled, and everything within me was suffused in joy.

“Merry meet, Zoey.”

I grinned, and bowed my head. “Merry meet, Nyx.”

“You’ve done well, daughter. You’ve made me proud of you again.”

“It took me too long,” I said. “I’m sorry about that.”

Her gaze was unwaveringly kind. “As always with you, as with many of my strongest daughters, it is yourselves you should be forgiving. There is no need to ask it of me.”

“And what of me?” Kalona rasped. “Will you ever forgive me?”

The Goddess looked at him. Her eyes were sad, but the set of her mouth was grim, her words clipped and emotionless. “If you are ever worthy of forgiving, you may ask it of me. Not until then.” Nyx lifted her hand from Stark’s head and flicked her fingers at Kalona. The claymore disappeared from his chest. Wind abated, and he dropped from the wall of the arena. “You will pay my daughter the debt you owe her, and then you will return to the world and the consequences awaiting you there, knowing this, my fallen Warrior, your spirit, as well as your body, is forbidden entrance to my realm.” Without another glance at Kalona, Nyx turned her back to him. She bent to kiss Stark’s bloody lips gently, and then the air around her rippled, glistened, and she faded away.

When Kalona got to his feet I backed away from him fast, lifting my hands and getting ready to throw air at him again. Then his eyes met mine, and I saw that he was weeping silently.

“I will do as she commands. Except for one time, one single time, I always did as she commanded,” he said.

I followed him as he walked to Stark’s body. “I return to you that last sweet breath of life. With it live again, and accept a small piece of my immortality for the human life I have taken.” Then, totally shocking me, Kalona bent and, mimicking Nyx, he kissed Stark.

Stark’s body jerked. He gasped and inhaled a long breath.

Before I could stop him, Kalona put one hand on Stark’s shoulder, and with the other he wrenched the spear from his body. With an agonized cry, Stark collapsed.

“You jerk!” I ran to Stark and cradled his head on my lap. He was breathing hard, in panting gasps, but he was breathing. I looked up at Kalona. “No wonder she won’t forgive you. You’re cruel and heartless and just plain wrong.”

“When you get back to the world, stay away from me. You’ll be out of her realm then, and Nyx won’t come running to save you,” he said.

“The farther I am from you, the better.”

Kalona stretched open his wings, but before he could take to the sky, tendrils of Darkness, sticky and sharp, oozed from the black sides of the arena and the pitch-colored dirt beneath his feet. While he stared at me, they wrapped around his body, slicing his flesh. Segment by segment they cut him, covered him, until he was nothing but writhing darkness, blood, and amber eyes. Then the tendrils reached his eyes, plunging into them. I cried out in horror as they ripped something that was so bright and shining from inside him that I had to close my eyes against its brilliance. When I opened them again Kalona’s body had disappeared along with the arena, and Stark and I were inside the grove.

Chapter 30

Zoey

“Zoey! What is it? What’s happened?” Stark struggled, trying to make his broken body work.

“Ssh, it’s okay. Everything’s okay. Kalona’s gone. We’re safe.”

His gaze found mine, and all the tension went out of him. He slumped in my arms and let me cradle his head in my lap. “It’s you again. You’re not shattered anymore.”

“It’s me again.” I touched his cheek in one of the few places on his face that wasn’t bloody, broken, or bruised. “This time you’re the one who looks shattered.”

“No, Z. As long as you’re whole, I’ll be fine.” He coughed then. Blood poured from the gaping wound in his chest. His eyes closed, and his face contorted in agony.

Oh, Goddess! He’s hurt so badly! I tried to speak calmly. “Okay, good, but you don’t really look fine. So how about you and me get back to our bodies. They are both waiting for us, right?”

Another shudder of pain went through him. He was breathing in shallow, panting breaths, but he opened his eyes to meet mine. “You should go back. I’ll follow you after I rest a little while.”

Panic fluttered around inside me. “Oh, no. I’m so not leaving you here. Just tell me what you need to get back.”

He blinked a few times and then his broken lips curled in a hint of his cocky smile. “I don’t exactly know how to get back.”

“You don’t what? Stark, seriously.”

“Seriously. I don’t really have a clue.”

“How’d you get here?”

His lips curled again. “Through pain.”

I snorted. “Well, then getting you back should be easy ’cause you have some pain going on here.”

“Yeah, but back there I have an ancient Guardian in charge of keeping me on the line between life and death. I don’t exactly know how to tell him it’s time for me to wake up. How are you getting back?”

I didn’t even need to think about it. The answer was as natural as breathing. “I’m going to follow spirit to my body. It’s where I belong, back there, in the real world.”

“Do that.” He had to pause as another wave of pain engulfed him. “And after I rest, I’ll do the same thing.”

“No, you don’t have an affinity for spirit like I do. It won’t work for you.”

“It’s good that you still have your elements. I wondered about that, what with your tattoos being gone.”

“Gone?” I turned my hand over and, sure enough, there were no tattoos filling my palms with sapphire filigree. Then I glanced down at my chest. The long pink scar was there, but it, too, was tattoo free. “Are they all gone? Even the ones on my face?”

“All that’s left is the crescent,” he said. Then he grimaced in pain again. Clearly beyond his exhaustion level, he closed his eyes, and said, “Go ahead and follow spirit home. I’ll figure something out. When I’m not so tired. Don’t worry. I won’t leave you—not really.”

“Oh, hell no. I’m not losing another boy with some kind of abstract I’ll-see-you-again Zoey thing. That’s not working for me ever, ever again.”

He opened his eyes. “Then tell me what to do, my queen. And I’ll do it.”

I ignored the “my queen” stuff. I mean, I’d heard him call me that earlier, and then again to Kalona. I wondered briefly if that had been before or after the immortal had started smacking him in the head, then I focused on the “I’ll do it” part of what he’d said. So, he’d do what I told him . . . but what the heck did I need to tell him to do?

I looked down at him. He was so messed up—even worse than he had been when he’d taken the arrow meant to kill me and burned the crap out of his chest, almost dying. Again.

But then he’d gotten better pretty much on his own. He’d had to. I’d been messed up, too.

I drew a deep breath, remembering the whole Mother Hen lecture Darius had given me when I’d wanted Stark to feed from me so he could heal quicker. He’d explained that between a Warrior and his High Priestess, the bond was so strong that Warriors could sometimes sense emotions from their High Priestesses. I glanced down at Stark’s bruised face. He’d definitely been able to do that. When that happened, they could also absorb more from their High Priestesses than their blood—they could absorb energy.

Which was exactly what Stark needed—energy to heal—energy to return to his body.

This time he wouldn’t get better on his own and, thank the Goddess, I wasn’t messed up anymore.

“Hey,” I said. “I know what I want you to do.”

His eyes fluttered open, and I hated the pain that I saw reflected within them. “Tell me. If I can do it, I will.”

I smiled at him. “I want you to bite me.”

He looked surprised and then, even though it obviously hurt him, his cocky smile was back. “Now you ask me? When my body’s totally messed up. Great.”

“Don’t be such a guy,” I told him. “It’s because you’re body’s totally messed up that I’m asking you.

“I’d make you think differently if I was well.”

I shook my head at him and rolled my eyes. “If you were well, I’d smack you right now.” And then, moving carefully, trying to be as gentle as I could, I slid him off my lap. He tried to stifle a groan. “Sorry! I’m so sorry I’m hurting you.” I lay down beside him and started to pull him into my arms, wanting to hold him close to me as if I could absorb his pain.

“It’s okay,” he gasped. “Just help me onto my good side.”

Good side? I wasn’t sure whether I should laugh or burst into tears, but I helped him turn on his side, the one that didn’t have the shattered shoulder, so that we could face each other. Tentatively, I moved closer to him, thinking that I should maybe slice down my arm so he could drink from me more easily without moving too much.

“No.” His hand twitched, trying to reach out to me. “Not like that. Come closer to me, Z. The pain doesn’t matter.” He paused, then added, “Unless you can’t because of my blood. Does this make you need it?”

“The blood?” I realized what he was saying and blinked in surprise. “I haven’t even noticed it.” Seeing his wry expression, I went on, “I mean I noticed that you’re bleeding all over. I didn’t smell it.” Wonderingly, I touched the blood on his lip with my fingertip. “It doesn’t make my bloodlust happen.”

“We’re spirit here, that must be why,” he said.

“Then will this work? You feeding from me?”

His eyes met mine. “It’ll work, Z. Between us there’s more than physical stuff. We’re bound by spirit.”

“Okay, good. I hope so,” I said, feeling suddenly nervous. The only other guy I’d let feed from me had been Heath—my Heath. My mind skittered away from thoughts of him and comparisons with Stark, but I couldn’t deny one aspect of what was about to happen. Letting a guy drink my blood was sexual. It felt good. Really good. That was how we’d been made. It was normal, natural, and right.

It was also making my stomach hurt.

“Hey, just relax and bring your neck over here.”

My wide eyes took in Stark’s battered face and his broken body.

“Yeah, I know you’re nervous, but as messed up as I am, you don’t need to be.” His expression changed. “Or is it more than being nervous? Are you changing your mind about wanting to?”

“No,” I said quickly. “I’m not changing my mind. I won’t change my mind about you, Stark. Ever.”

Trying to be as careful as I could, I moved closer to him. Scooting up so that the curve of my neck was near his mouth, I swept back my hair and leaned over him, holding myself tense, ready for his bite.

But he surprised me. Instead of his teeth I felt the warmth of his lips as he kissed my neck gently. “Relax, my queen.”

His breath made shivers go down my skin. I trembled. How long had it been since anyone had really touched me? It must only be days back in the real world, but here, in the Otherworld, it felt like I’d been untouched and untouchable for centuries.

Stark kissed me again. His tongue touched my neck and he moaned. This time I didn’t think it was from pain. He didn’t hesitate any longer. His teeth nicked my neck. It stung, but as soon as his lips closed on the small cut, pain was replaced by pleasure so intense that it was my turn to moan.

I wanted to wrap my arms around him and lock my body with his, but I held myself very still, trying my best not to cause him any more pain.

Too soon his mouth left my skin. His voice already sounded stronger when he said, “Do you know when I first knew I belonged to you?” His breath whispered warm against my neck, making me shiver again.

“When?” I sounded breathless.

“It was when you faced me down in the infirmary back at the House of Night, before I’d Changed. Do you remember?”

“I remember.” Of course I remembered—I’d been naked and threatened to kick his butt with the elements as I stood between him and Darius.

I could feel his lips tilt up against my skin. “You looked like a Warrior queen, filled with the Goddess’s anger. I think that was when I knew I would always belong to you, because you reached me even through all that darkness.”

“Stark.” I whispered his name, utterly overwhelmed by what I was feeling for him. “This time you reached me. Thank you. Thank you for coming after me.”

With a wordless sound, his mouth was on my neck again, and this time he bit harder, and really drank from me.

Again, pleasure quickly replaced the sting of pain. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the exquisite heat that was rushing through my body. I couldn’t stop myself from touching him, and slid one hand around his waist so that I could feel the tight muscles just underneath the skin of his back. I wanted more of him. I wanted him closer to me.

He took his lips from my neck, and he actually held himself up. His eyes were dark with passion, and he was breathing hard. “Now, Zoey, will you give me more than just your blood? Will you accept me as your Guardian?”

I stared at him. In his eyes there was something that I’d never seen within him before. The boy who had walked away from me in Venice, jealous and pissed, was gone. The man who had grown in his place was more than a vampyre, more than a Warrior. Even as he lay there broken in my arms, I could feel the strength in him: solid, dependable, honorable.

“Guardian?” I said wonderingly, touching his face. “So that’s what you’ve Changed into?”

His gaze never left mine. “Yes, if you accept me. Without his queen’s acceptance a Guardian isn’t anything.”

“But I’m not really a queen.”

His torn lips didn’t stop Stark’s cocky smile. “You’re my queen, and anyone who says different can fuck off.”

I smiled at him. “I already accepted your Oath as my Warrior.”

Stark’s cockiness was instantly gone. “This is different, Zoey. It’s more. It might change things between us.”

I touched his face again. I didn’t really understand what he was asking, but I knew that he needed something more from me, and I knew that whatever I said and did now would affect us for the rest of our lives. Goddess, give me the right words, I prayed silently.

“James Stark, from here on out I accept you as my Guardian, and I also accept all that goes with it.”

He turned his head and kissed my palm. “Then I will serve you with my honor and my life, forever Zoey. My Ace, mo bann ri, my queen.”

His oath rippled through me like a physical thing. Stark was right. It was different than what had happened between us when he’d sworn his Oath to me as a Warrior. This time it was as if he’d given me a piece of himself, and I knew that without me, he could never truly be whole again. The responsibility of it scared me almost as much as it strengthened me, and I pulled his mouth down to my neck again.

“Take more from me, Stark. Let me heal you.”

With a moan, his mouth met my neck. His bite deepened, and something completely amazing happened. First, the unique power that accompanied the element air surged into me and flowed from me to Stark. He shivered and I knew it was from the intense pleasure that was filling him as the element gifted him with a swirling rush of energy. At the same instant a sweet, familiar pain swept over my forehead and cheekbones, and against my closed eyelids I got the flash of an image of Damien, shouting with joy. I gasped in amazement. I didn’t have to ask. I didn’t need a mirror to see. I knew the first of my tattoos had returned.

Following closely behind air came fire. It heated me and then spread throughout Stark, filling him, strengthening him, so that he was able to lift his arm and pull me closer, drinking even more deeply. Sensation burned down my back as my second tattoo returned, and I saw Shaunee laughing and doing her victory bump and grind.

Water washed through us then, bathing us, filling us, continuing to carry us around the circle we’d begun. I kept my eyes tightly closed, taking in every moment of the miracle Stark and I were experiencing together, and trembled with pleasure as my third tattoo, the one that wrapped around my waist, returned, while Erin laughed and yelled, “Hell, yes! Z’s coming back!”

Earth came next, and it was like Stark and I became a part of the grove. We knew the rich pleasure of it and the power that rested there in the roots and ground and moss. Stark’s hold on me got stronger. He shifted me in his arms so that he was over me. His arms cradled me to him, and I knew his wounds no longer pained him because I could feel what he felt. I shared his joy and pleasure and wonder. My palms were seared by the Goddess’s touch again, as my fourth tattoo returned. Strangely, I didn’t get a visual image of Stevie Rae as her element filled me, only a sense of her and a distant joy, as if she had somehow moved beyond my reach.

Spirit sizzled through us last, and suddenly I didn’t simply feel what Stark felt—it was like we were joined. Not in body, but in soul. And our souls blazed together with a brilliance that was brighter than any physical passion could ever be as my final tattoo returned.

With a gasp, Stark pulled his lips from my skin and buried his face in my neck. His body was trembling, and his breath was coming fast, like he’d just sprinted a marathon. His tongue touched the wound he’d made on my neck, and I knew he was closing and healing it. I raised my hand to caress his hair, and was shocked to feel that the sweat and blood was gone from him.