And yet…
She rubbed the heels of her palms into her eyes until gold stars burst across the backs of her eyelids. It can’t end like this. Not like this.
She’d imagined a mutual parting where he was whole…living. Where he hugged and kissed her before soaring into the sky. Not where he left her one night never to return again. She couldn’t lose him to death. Watching him leave her would cause enough pain, but not having him in the world at all?
The sob escaped before she could bite it back.
A shout went up outside the cabin.
Her arms dropped and she stared at the closed front door, frozen.
When another yell echoed through the walls, she raced across the room and snatched the door open. Blindly, she rushed over the porch and down the steps, coming to an abrupt halt at the bottom of the stairs.
A group of men formed a semi-circle on the lawn. Damn big men. They laughed and grinned, slapping one another on their wide backs and shoulders.
Her gaze scanned them, their faces unfamiliar. Her heart plunged toward her feet, the adrenaline that had carried her from the cabin fading.
Why were they so happy? Where was…
Oh Jesus.
With a shriek, she flew across the yard, her bare feet barely skimming the grass as she threw herself into arms that were already outstretched and ready to receive her.
Nicolai snatched her up, crushed her to him. His strength embraced her, his scent enveloped her. And deep inside, the restlessness disappeared, satisfied he had returned to her.
Tamar clutched him close, her arms like manacles around his neck. Relief and joy poured through her in a flood that refused to be contained. Burying her face in his neck, she kissed the strong column, tasting his skin. A tremor shook her. God, how she’d feared she would never taste or touch him again.
“You’d better have a damn good excuse,” she whispered.
His chuckle vibrated over and through her. To hell with the excuse. Just as long as he was here. Now.
“I think mine will do,” he murmured before brushing her ear with his lips and slowly easing out of her death grip. “I want to introduce you to someone.”
Reluctantly, Tamar released him but remained glued to his side. She’d have to let him go one day soon, but not tonight.
“You know of these three, but you haven’t met them yet.” He waved toward the small group on his left. “Lukas, Adon and Dorian.” Lukas, the dark-haired olive-skinned one, winked at her. “And this,” he cupped the shoulder of a tall, very blond man with a vicious scar running down the side of his face, “is Bastien.”
Tamar jerked her gaze up to Nicolai. The surprise winging its way through her chest echoed in her voice. “The Bastien?”
“I like the sound of that,” the blond drawled. “Take note, boys. The Bastien.” He stepped forward, ignoring his friends’ snickers. Taking her hand in his, he bowed low, the move as smooth as any medieval nobleman and at complete odds with his modern speech and dialect. “You must be Tamar.” He straightened, a faint twist to his mouth. His green eyes narrowed and slid to Nicolai. “And you’re human.”
Chapter Nine
The low-burning flames in the fireplace of Nicolai’s bedroom flickered over Tamar’s sleeping face and body. Though the calendar read June, the nights were much cooler in the high altitude of the mountains. While he didn’t need the heat the fire provided, Tamar did, her human system not able to regulate its temperature like he could.
Nicolai stroked a bent knuckle down her cheek, her skin as butter soft as it appeared. The fire lent her dark-wheat curls a reddish tint as if the fiery spirit that danced inside her had made its way outside to rest on her lovely spirals.
He lifted a thick coil and entwined it around his finger. His hippogryph sighed deep within him, sated, pleased to be next to the woman both man and beast loved. When she’d dashed across the yard earlier and thrown herself against him, both sides of him had growled one word. Home.
It didn’t make sense and yet while he’d hurried back to her, Bastien at his side, Nicolai had decided to stop trying to find reason in something that defied logic. He’d fallen in love with a human. He’d connected with her on a level that transcended sex, tradition and intellect.
He’d bonded with her in a way that exceeded the love he’d had with Pria.
It saddened him to admit that—it seemed to trivialize what he and his wife had shared when nothing could be further from the truth. He’d loved his wife, adored her. But the consuming, primal cleaving that defined his link with Tamar was different from that love—and stronger. It was…necessary.
He’d dreamed of Pria.
But Tamar was his dream. His everything.