His heart leapt. He had children. A wife he loved with all of his being. He’d left her behind. But why?
“Because she didn’t love you anymore. She took another lover and cast you out into the world, penniless and forsaken.”
The woman’s voice sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place it. It dripped with honey and the promise of sunshine. It was kind. It was truthful.
No wonder his heart pained him so much. The woman he’d loved sent him away.
“You stumbled into a forest surrounded by fog. A great beast tore you apart. I found you. I nursed you back to health.” Fingertips lightly grazed his forehead.
Warm. Soft. Comforting.
He vaguely remembered the forest and the fog, thicker than the wool of the clothes he wore. Clothes? He’d touched his own body. His skin. There were no clothes. Shame spread over him. No woman, other than his wife and his mother, had seen him without clothing.
“You are beautiful. Don’t be embarrassed.” A silken blanket spread across him.
He was grateful. He wanted to thank her, but he still couldn’t speak. His lips were spread apart ever so slightly. Not one sound emerged.
“You don’t have to talk, sweetling. I can hear you. We have a connection, deeper than any you’ve ever had with anyone else.” She placed a hand under his back, helping him to sit up.
His legs swung over to the side and the blanket fell to his waist, covering the most private part of him. That part he’d kept only for the woman he loved. The one who became his wife and bore his children. The one he swore he’d return to, no matter how difficult. If the voice was to be believed, his wife no longer wanted him.
Memories of dense fog and the snarling of a beast coming after him haunted him. He knew they were true memories. The rest was a blur.
“You’ve blocked out the pain.” She stroked his hair. “It’s okay, my darling. Eventually it’ll all come back.”
He looked at the woman next to him. Her long dark braid fell behind her back, nearly touching the floor. It sparkled in the dim light. Where was he? The walls dripped. Stalactites clung to the ceiling. A cave, then. That explained the moistness in the air and the faint scent of dirt.
She wore a gown of blue. Light bounced off of it, blinding him every time he looked at her. Dazzling. Devastatingly beautiful.
The woman’s hand rested under his chin. A nudge. He looked into her eyes. Deep pools of blackness. The azure iris of her eye slit in a vertical line.
“You have no idea how grateful I am that you have woken from your sleep. Your injuries were extensive. Everyone else thought you dead. I am the only one who believed you could be brought back to life.”
He was grateful to her too. Though without his wife, he wasn’t sure if life was worth living.
“Life can be so much more. You are young. Don’t give up so easily.” She traced a line down his face to his lips. Her finger lingered there, only a moment, before she drew it back.
He licked his lips. The metallic taste of blood mingled with the sweetness of honey. He swallowed. Looking at her again, she appeared even more beautiful. Radiant.
Her eyelids lowered, her lashes fluttering. “I’m pleased you think I’m attractive.”
Despite wanting to fight it, he found himself being pulled toward her. With the passing of every moment, the tender memories of his wife faded, obstructed by the woman in front of him.
“Yes, that’s right. I feel the same pull to you. It’s only natural. I’ve grown to love you as well.”
Love. It was a word he’d never used lightly. He’d sworn to use it only for one woman. But she’d spurned him. Left him to die.
The woman sashayed in front of him. She nudged his legs apart, stepping between them. Her hands rested on his stomach, just above the blanket that still covered him.
“I want you,” she whispered in his ear, her lips tickling the edge of his earlobe.
He couldn’t form the words to answer. He didn’t need to. With a sudden burst of energy, he reached out, cupping one breast in his hand. She moaned and bit his ear.
The woman pushed him back down on the table. She grabbed the blanket and flung it to the ground. Straddling his waist, she ground into his obvious arousal.
“Now you are mine, Connor.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Bastian dropped his sword on the ground and tucked his dagger into the holster around his calf. He needed both of his hands to scale the tree. The limbs rustled like living arms, reaching out for him, threatening to flay his skin. Rough bark dug in, biting his flesh. Still he climbed, desperate to get to the top, hoping he could rise above the fog. Praying he would be able to see Tressa.
He couldn’t see the ground any longer, nor could he see the top of the tree. Anchored on a sturdy branch, he felt afloat, drifting in a sea of damp clouds. He was used to the fog surrounding him when he lived in Hutton’s Bridge, but the only time it ever enveloped him so completely was in the forest with Tressa and Connor.