“Have you seen yourself?” I demanded. “You are the type of man that has women watching him with hearts in their eyes and a fire burning in their panties everywhere you go. Even among the tall and beautiful lycans, you are a dark and dirty fantasy that walks into women’s dreams to become their dream-state lover.”
He flashed a sideward look at me but didn’t reply.
“We both know that you must have to beat off a legion of horny women every Ostara when their hormones run amok and their libido is on red alert.” I sighed dramatically. “Or at Beltane when the need to find a mate is at its peak, and every lycan with a pulse is on the rampage and searching for someone to breed with.”
He shot me one of his narrow-eyed glares which was designed to turn the recipient to stone. Instead, it made a pulse thrum between my legs, and lust to spike in my veins. I swear the man was emitting pheromones that were slowly eroding my sanity. Every time he stood too close, I had to suppress the urge to lick him because he made my mouth water.
“You’re hilarious,” Salvator snarked. “You make dire wolves sound no better than a pack of mongrel dogs running around with our dicks hanging out.”
My eyebrows shot up. “That’s a terrifying image,” I replied. “It’s been a long time since I attended a Beltane celebration with creatures other than witches there.”
His lips twitched, but he still refused to look at me. “Is it really so hard to believe that I didn’t become a manwhore in your absence? We were fighting a war, running for our lives. The last thing on my mind was shagging nameless women on solstices and worrying about raising children who could be slaughtered at any moment.”
I pursed my lips together, shame washing over me as my mind travelled back in time. “Those first two centuries were horrendous,” I finally said. “Sleeping in forests in the hope that no one would find me, trying to prevent human men raping me because I was alone, being so hungry that I could barely eat when I did find food.”
The air inside the car felt as if it thickened, the temperature lowering. Salvator looked at me for several seconds, his gaze dark and dangerous. I swear he had an inner navigator that allowed him to drive and complete another task at the same time.
I chewed the corner of my mouth, images from that time breaking through a spell I had suppressed them with. I was aware I had placed a block on my memories, but I didn’t know why. Those images demonstrated why I didn’t want to remember that period of my life.
Salvator’s gaze darkened, and I worried that he was going to shout at me about the conditions his wolves had had to live through. “I wish I could go back and tear their throats out,” he said, his voice deep and growly.
I didn’t know what to say because even in my organisation, there was no one who truly worried about my safety. We were a network that co-existed, but no one knew where I lived and if I was okay.
“We can’t change the past,” I finally replied, falling under the enchantment in his eyes, which lowered the defences I had built around myself. “If I could, I would have insisted you stay with me that day, and we run away from the war together.”
Salvator turned his attention back to the road. Every nerve ending in my body froze when he lifted my hand closest to him and brought it to his lips to kiss the inside of my wrist.
“I’ve spent four hundred years regretting that decision,” he said against my skin. “I used to lie awake wherever we could find to sleep, wishing I had turned back that day because every step away from you caused me physical pain.”
His admission left me breathless, the fluttering in my chest making me lightheaded. I barely had any resistance left against the tirade of emotions thundering through me. Salvator had been the other half of me from the moment I saw him after I arrived at the temple. He had been the one to keep me sane in those first terrifying months, his presence calming and centring me in the middle of that magical storm Balor had created.
I wiggled until I made myself comfortable, watching the scenery until we were closer to our destination, and Salvator needed directions. The house was cloaked so humans would walk past it without seeing it, strong protection wards engraved into the stone structure, and painted on the walls. The gardens had glass jars filled with herbs and crystals buried in them to repel certain night creatures and dark witches. The metal gates swung open when I muttered the unlocking spell, lifting the enchantment so Salvator and I could see what was hidden behind the high walls.
“I’m impressed,” he said, whistling lowly. “I would never even have known this was here.”
“That’s the point of these locations,” I replied. “We have them across the globe so that witches can find safety. Any of uswho lived through some of the atrocities carried out against the magical community know the importance of these.”
He brought the car to a stop at the top of the drive, and I stretched my limbs when I climbed out into the sunshine, finally able to relax. The next witch to enter this place would need a different keyword in the unlocking spell, to safeguard the integrity of this location.
Inside the house was cool, the sunlight illuminating the white tiles on the floor. I left my bag in the hall, removing my shoes to allow me to ground myself after being on high alert for so long in this country.
I wandered through to the kitchen. There would be basic supplies held in magical stasis in a larder, and cool water to refresh us. Salvator’s footsteps echoed through the house, allowing me to follow his progress as he moved from room to room.
This house allowed me to relax all the spells I used when outside my home. I felt the pressure lift from my shoulders with every sip of purified water I drank while standing at the patio doors to look out over the garden.
I jolted when Salvator took the glass from my hands, setting it on the table. He spun me slowly to face him, his hand grasping my throat to tilt my head up until I met his dark eyes.
“Show me,” he demanded. “They hurt you, I saw it in your eyes. Show me.”
I blinked, panic rising inside me. “I—” I broke off, trying to move my gaze away from his. “I put a spell on certain memories, and I only know what they are when it wears off,” I admitted.
His head lowered until his forehead touched mine. “I felt your pain. The spell is eroding.”
My eyes fluttered closed, and I leaned my weight into his strength. “Please,” I whispered. “I can’t say the words…”
“Show me,” he demanded, his voice deep and gravelly. “Open your mind and let me see.”
My hands gripped the front of his top. I didn’t want to witness what I hadn’t been strong enough to keep in my memories.