Page 93 of Samhain Savior
“You most of all.” When I continued to stare in confusion, he went on. “Too many things have happened in quick succession for it to be just a coincidence. First the bound witches performing summonings, then thereappearance of Asmodeus.” He stopped, his eyes going wide as if he couldn’t believe he’d actually said the words out loud. I knew of Asmodeus, of course, but not his connection to Archer or why he may have been missing. Not wanting him to stop talking, I rolled my lips together and nodded, indicating his secrets were safe with me. Shaking his head, he offered me a surprised grin that melted my heart just a little before he continued. “The return of the Order of the Broken Veil, followed closely by the Storm-bringer, who somehow managed to escape from his prison in the Void.” He ceased his pacing, turning to face me. “Finally, the assignment to track down the pieces of the Fallen Key, which lead me directly to you.”
I could feel my cheeks heating, and I looked away, staring once again at the flickering flame. Climbing off the bed—because clearly I couldn’t sit there a moment longer, surrounded by the memory of how he’d taken me on it, without blushing—I made my way over to the chair where Pandora waited patiently, her snack demolished, her tiny nose twitching as she listened to our discussion. Scooping her into my hands, I took her place on the chair, letting one finger idly stroke her little spines as I sifted through the simmering heat that was building in my chest—and other places—at his words, and the clear intention behind them.
He wanted me. Badly.
And I felt the same.
The truth was clear, I just didn’t understand it.
“What about the other stuff, though?” I asked, not wanting to dwell on the new things I was feeling or how my body reacted to just the thought of him touching me. “Phips’s missing piece of they Key. Helena and her ravings about Belial.” I paused, my gaze meeting his before I added. “Your claim about me being your mate.”
“Claim?” he hissed, dark eyes flashing in the candlelight. “I claim nothing that isn’t true. And you, witch, have claimed me as well. Or do you think this ismy ownhandprint burning on my skin.”
Snatching the candle off the desk, Archer stood before me, the light between us clearly highlighting what had been hidden in the darkness until this moment.
There on his chest, right above a small block of tattooed text—right where my palm had rested while he had been inside me—was a silvery handprint, far too small to be anything but mine.
“I—I didn’t…”
“Youdid, my witch.” His tone was intense, strong and sure, and as I stared at the shimmering evidence before me, I found myself nearly bursting with pride.
If what Archer said was true, if we were mates, then that handprint on his flesh was my mark on him just as his bite was his on me.
A strong sense of contentment filled me, overflowing, and I could see the moment Archer picked up on it, our strange connection letting him know exactly how I felt about owning a piece of him.
“You see?” he asked, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it. Turning his body one way and then the other, Archer gave me a dirty smile as the handprint I’d left on him shimmered in the candle flame. “I may reside in the darkness, but the truth cannot hide from the light.”
I froze, something about his words tickling in the back of my mind.
The truth cannot hide from the light.
“Archer,” I gasped, when the realization struck me. “The letter! Where is Phips’s letter?”
He opened his mouth as if to question me, but something—probably the excited urgency he could feel through our bond—had him setting the candle back on the desk and striding from the room. He returned a moment later holding the thick piece of parchment out to me.
“I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before,” I said, returning Pandora to her spot on the chair and moving to the desk. I slid my grimoire out of the way, unfolding the letterand attempting to smooth out the wrinkles. The message was still there, just as it was the first time I’d seen it, but something in me knew there was more than met the eye.
“It’s something Heidi used to do for important commutations,” I said, smiling gently. “The ink is bespelled, the real message written in a way that only someone who knows it’s there would be able to find it.”
“So how do you know it’s there?”
“Because Father Phipstoldme it was, right in the letter.” Leaning over the table, I ran my finger over the passage in question. “‘If you follow the light, my words will reveal the truth.’ Heidi always taught me that the flame represents light. A guide through the darkness that reveals the truth around us.” I trailed off, shaking my head in disbelief. “She knew. All along, she was preparing me for this possibility. That I would be alone and have to make my own way.”
“You’re not alone, Delilah,” Archer said quietly, his words resonating deep within me. “Never again.”
For a moment, I could only stare at him, his features still so otherworldly in the flickering light of the single candle.
There was still a lot we had to talk about—still so much I just didn’t know—but the truth of his words settled something inside me, filling me with a calm reassurance that I hadn’t known I’d been missing.
Grasping the parchment tightly in both hands, I stood straight, stretching it over the flame, close enough that the paper glowed, but not close enough to scorch.
“What are you doing?” Archer grasped my wrist, preventing me from getting it too close. “That’s our only clue as to the whereabouts of the second piece of the key.”
“I know, but the clue is hidden. I need to reveal it.”
“You’re certain?” he asked, hesitant, and I scowled.
“Of course, I’m certain. I wouldn’t risk this.” I gestured to the letter. “It’s too important.” I stared at him, doing my best to show the confidence I felt about what I was doing, both on my face and through the strange connection between us.
