Page 260 of The Poison Daughter
“I don’t want to leave forever,” I say. “I still have work to do here—people to take care of. But I don’t want to always be here. These walls are a cage, and if we’ve really figured out how to stop the Drained from being so bad, maybe travel could be more frequent, not just from the fort but from the outside world.”
I don’t recognize myself. These are thoughts I would normally keep inside my head. But this is what Henry has done to me. He’s made me a woman who believes in things.
He looks at me expectantly. “And?”
“And what? You want me to talk about my feelings, my wolf? Fine. I find you more tolerable than every other person I’ve met. I’m not tired of you yet.”
He smirks. “How romantic. The six words every man hopes to hear at least once in his life:I’m not tired of you yet.”
“What do you want?” I ask, trying to push through the nervous twisting in my gut.
He kisses me, long and slow and languid. “I want to feel you in my bed every night and every morning. I want your constant testing me. I want your absurd love of running. And, bleeding woods, I want my fucking wolf back.”
I laugh. “Be better company, then.”
He leans his forehead against mine. “I want you, Harlow. Stay with me. Just this once, don’t fight me.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
I kiss him, satisfied that I’ve found the person I never want to stop fighting with.
62
HARLOW
It’s dark when I wake and find myself pressed against the scarred terrain of Henry’s chest. I can only tell it’s morning by the noise of people on the street outside the boarding house. Dark Star Festival is always disorienting like this.
I’m tempted to stay curled up in bed and ignore all expectations, but with the only meager light in the room coming from the fireplace, I feel too exposed. I draw away from my husband slowly.
Henry’s face is soft with sleep, his hair curled over his forehead. His lashes are dark and too long for a man to appropriately appreciate. His lips are swollen from kissing me and his stubble has grown in enough that it will be bordering on a beard by the end of the day.
I’ve never spent the night with tender kisses bleeding into gentle passion, whispering, or just lying quietly in between.
It’s alarming how easily I could get used to it.
I roll over and stretch, and Henry immediately tugs me back against him, nuzzling his face into my neck. My body is sore, muscles stretched, skin bitten and stubble-burned, but I feel ready for the day.
In my periphery, I see the steady pulse of his dark purple aura. But something else catches my eye. I squint, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing, and my stomach bottoms out. Long, burnt orange tendrils reach out from the purple aura, subtly stroking along my skin.
My blood runs cold. Fear spikes through me so suddenly that I wrench myself out of bed and to my feet before Henry even registers I’m out of his reach.
“What’s going on?” he says groggily.
I ignore him, searching madly around my room for any of my clothing. I run into the closet, throw on the first set of undergarments I find, and pull a matching bright blue dress on top of it. I pull on my boots and tuck my blade into the right boot, then grab my cloak from the hook by the closet door.
I am so unbelievably stupid. Henry’s aura isn’t unusual because he’s Deathless. It’s unusual because he is twice-blessed.
My mind spins frantically. In the gallery back in Mountain Haven, he didn’t look proud because I liked his sister’s art pieces. He was proud because they werehis. They were made fromhisblessing from Polm. The magic of his art had nothing to do with his sister’s gift for protection and everything to do withhisability to read and manipulate emotions. That’s how he knew so well what each one of them did and how to read my reactions.
When I step out of the closet, my heart is pounding like I just sprinted the entire city wall.
Henry sits up in bed, looking at me with concern. “What’s wrong? Where are you?—”
“You lied to me.”
He is so still for a moment. Then he springs to his feet. “Don’t leave yet.”
I’m already halfway to the door.
