Luc
Before the Spell Was Broken...
Lucian Uraiahs, god of day and light, wasn’t sure what to make of the woman singing as she traipsed through the snowy forest. The racing of his heart offered him a possibility he didn’t want to acknowledge. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen her. That had been in the meeting house in the tiny village of Sevens where she’d been sitting in a booth working with a needle and thread, smiling contentedly as she did. This was the first time he’d seen her in the woods, however, and he’d been there for some time.
Her sweet voice—a touch high with a gentle swell into nice round notes—carried a melody as she sang, “My love, my love, where have you gone?” The quiet woods with its snow falling in big, bright flakes made her song ethereal.
Evergreen trees flourished despite the cold, their branches heavy with snow, waiting like the naked deciduous trees for the return of warmth. Standing deep in the shadows, Luc would have been cold had it not been for his godlight, though observing the woman warmed him further, a fact he decided he would explain away after this awful business was over.
Snowflakes floated around the woman, muting sound as she pulled an empty wagon through the drift. There wasn’t a path, but she made one as she walked.
“Where have you gone?” she continued to sing.
She was beautiful. It was hard not to notice the vibrancy in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes. Though not dressed in much more than rags, her boots were too big for her feet, and her coat was several sizes too large. She fought with the sleeves as she pulled the wagon through a drift. In the meeting house, she’d been wearing a lovely blue dress, and though she’d been thin, he wouldn’t have guessed then at what appeared to be her impoverished circumstances. He’d only had eyes for her ready smile.
That smile had made him curious.
She smiled now with more abandon than in the meeting house as she sang, “I’m waiting here for you.”
He couldn’t fathom why she seemed so happy.
Since he’d completed his official Roam years before his ascension and continued to Roam well beyond it, he’d been across the Vasmost, traversing space and time as though searching for experiences to inform his own happiness. He’d been everywhere. He’d met others—happy, sad, in the throes of great joy, or the depths of dire grief—but he couldn’t remember a time where he’d seen a smile like hers that gathered his breath and held it captive against his will. Nothing in his life had offered him the warmth and contentment of that smile—contentment that seemed misplaced. And that, he realized, was what gave him pause. The emotion that informed that smile was something he’d never felt. Content.
Hidden by the deep shadows of the winter forest, Luc watched and listened, guiding her with his power toward the meadow, toward the key, toward the trap. While he hadn’t expressly created the ploy for her—it was set by a spell on a key—he was lying in wait for an unsuspecting person moving though this wood to succumb to the illusion. Who knew how much longer his brother Nixus would be trapped in that forsaken spell? The spell that was Luc’s fault and the reason he was in these woods at all, luring an unsuspecting woman toward the enchantment with his godlight.
He had to make this right for Nix. Whatever it took.
Only the more time Luc spent watching this woman—whether it had been at that horrible meeting house where he’d learned she and the other women were forced to wait for prospective husbands, or in the immediate now, moving ever closer to the magical snare—he was unable to calm the way his heart spoke truth inside him. Ignoring its thumping persuasion, he continued leading her, dropping dollops of golden light along her path, telling his heart to bugger off with its selfish lies. He needed a final key keeper, and she was the first to come along. Who knew how long it would take to find another?
She sang another line— “I dream, I dream, and sing this song. I’ll prove my heart is true–” —still smiling in spite of the snow and cold, in spite of her hunger, in spite of her empty wagon.
Luc didn’t understand. Adding another drop of golden light, then another, he led her toward the meadow where he knew the key had appeared after the last key keeper’s failure. He justified that luring her was an opportunity for her to wish for riches. It was clear she needed it.
But his reasoning drifted the longer he watched her. Though Luc wasn’t a content man, the more he listened to her song, the more content he became. His heart quickened, pushing emotions through his chest that tugged his heart, tightening it in his chest—and to his surprise, enjoyment suddenly spiked his pulse with a possibility he didn’t want to examine too closely.
Except, this was the final key keeper. This one had to break the spell when all the others had failed. Time to fix his mistake was running out. Understanding the parameters of the spell, coupled with the fact every keeper selected and lured by his goddess-cousin Poe had failed, meant this keeper was the difference between life and death for Nix and himself. If this last one failed…
He shook his head.
It wouldn’t come to that.
Luc knew Nix. Luc understood the spell. He’d lure the right one where Poe had failed.
Though Luc accepted he was selfish—he’d done very little in his life that hadn’t immediately impacted his needs and wants—he knew that he couldn’t be this time. He tried to suppress the awareness that he'd failed epically at his first selfless decision by trapping his brother in that stupid spell. Obviously, he wasn’t very good at it. Yet here he was trying to make another one, and his selfish heart was tempted away from his goal by a smile and a song. He knew the next key keeper—the right one—could not only save Nixus from the spell, but also Luc from having to sacrifice himself should it come to that.
Maybe this choice wasn’t completely selfless.
“Oh Love, oh Love, come home to me. My arms are open wide,” the woman sang, throwing her arms out to her sides. The sled’s lead wrapped around her hips as she spun. Stuck by both the wagon’s rope and the deep snow, she giggled, then hummed as she unwound herself.
Luc grinned, his heart jumping in his chest. He ignored it.
“My Love, my Love,” she sang, quieter now as she tugged on the wagon once more, melancholy filling the notes. “The fire I keep is burning bright, burning to keep me alive.”
Luc’s smile faded as he finally acknowledged the truth. This woman wouldn’t break the spell. She wasn’t the one. She was a dreamer, and from everything he’d learned about the spell, it would crush her.
Unable to overlook the selfish relief winding its way through him, he withdrew his golden power, collapsing the glamor he’d created to entice her toward the key.
The woman’s humming stopped, her head tilting as she turned, looking around, clearly aware that something had changed. Her eyes scanned the shadows, and he suppressed the desire to reveal himself. Perhaps another selfless act when selfishly he was interested in meeting her to understand where she found the joy to sing as she did. But he doused his godlight—even though he was already hidden in a glamor within the shadows—and waited in the stillness.
She shook her head. “Don’t be daft, Brinna,” she muttered, then scoffed at herself. “There’s no such thing as magic.” Her humming resumed as she continued through the woods.
Brinna. Her name.
Luc stayed with her, following her back to a hedge where she disappeared. When she didn’t reappear, he returned to the woods and Sevens, waiting for days until she did. He followed her to the meeting house of Sevens once more, and when three atrocious men arrived to claim his woodland fairy and her sisters, Luc was saved from making a very selfish mistake when her own father and brother arrived. He ignored the hope of seeing her in the woods again, of hearing her song, reminding himself repeatedly he wasn’t there to watch her. He had a job to do.
Time to move on. As usual. Because that was what Luc did. It was who he was.
So he waited in the woods, and as much as he wanted to see her again, he hoped the next time someone came into the woods, it wouldn’t be her. As if the stars answered his hope, the next human through the woods was one of her sisters. And this one, Luc decided as she walked through the forest with efficient purpose, was perfect.
He offered her dollops of sunshine, and where the woodland fairy sang, this one stopped, skeptical, and looked around. He was safe within his glamor in the shadows, of course, but he had the impression she could see through them. Despite what appeared to be her skepticism, his woodland fairy’s sister ventured forth anyway, following his drops of sunlight in the falling snow, into the magical meadow. When she found the spelled key, she touched it and disappeared into the enchantment, and Luc took a deep breath.
Yes, he decided. This one might break the spell. He had hope, provided Nixus would get out of his own way, and Luc decided that perhaps he needed to visit his brother to push him in the proper direction.
But just before he left Sevens, the woods, and his singing woodland fairy behind, Luc paused, that ever-present tightening around his heart distracting his resolve. He contemplated staying, if only to see her one more time. He imagined running into her, speaking with her, wooing her. But it wouldn’t do. He would ruin a woman like that. He carried too much wanderlust—too much like his father—and he didn’t trust himself with another’s heart. Not a dreamer like her. He couldn’t afford to make another mistake.
With a deep breath, Luc closed his eyes, wishing himself from Sevens toward his next adventure. If he could just fill his meaningless existence with distraction, maybe his heart wouldn’t remind him of the woman who’d written a song in his heart. So he disappeared from Sevens without any intention of ever returning.
Except…
Aurielle Fareview—sister to his woodland fairy—broke the spell, paving the way for Nix to drag Luc back to Sevens despite his resolve to never—and he was adamant, NEVER—to return. Which paved the way for two of the second-greatest mistakes of his life.
Err in Judgement No. 1
“I don’t need to be there,” Luc told his brother. “Father has forbidden me from leaving Sol.”
“What Father doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Besides, he’d leave.”
Luc gave Nix an impatient look.
Nix—though his intentions were good—seemed to think Luc needed to be out and intended to use his magic to transport him and obscure their whereabouts from their father. Luc couldn’t blame his brother for his wanderlust. Nix had been locked up in a spell for ten years, but Roaming to Sevens? This wasn’t wandering or sowing oats or any manner of things one did while Roaming, and Luc would know. He’d done it. Missed it, actually. Nix returning to the same place, the same woman repeatedly was… was… well, Luc didn’t have a word for it, but it was certainly something tragic.
“You know that’s true,” Nix said. “Plus, you can get out for a bit.”
“Me being there doesn’t change a thing. Just come out with it. Why hide that you love her?”
“Auri’s trying to figure out how to share the news with her overbearing mother. She’s been stuck behind an enchanted hedge that hides their cottage. She has to sneak out to see me.”
“Enchanted?” That intrigued him.
Nix’s eyes widened and he wiggled his eyebrows, knowing he’d snagged Luc’s interest. “You should see it.”
It had been on Luc’s tongue to tell Nix to go by himself, but then the memory of his woodland fairy singing in the woods, and his desire to possibly see her just once more, overrode everything else.
“Fine.”
The organic wall was indeed enchanted. While he’d seen it before, he hadn’t studied it, too concerned with finding a key-keeper, but now he could. When he pressed his hands to the hedge, the pulse of magic flowed through his palms, though looking closer, he could see threads like thin wires of light woven through. The shrub was tall—at least twenty feet—and stretched as far as he could see. The magic wasn’t powerful godlight but of a different kind—a spell—like the one he’d cast on Nix.
Luc snatched his hand back and shuddered, wondering why it existed at all.
“How do you find it?” he asked.
“Now, I follow the god-yoke threads I share with her,” Nix said.
Luc frowned at the thought of the god-yoke, then frowned at the involuntary thought of Brinna Fareview. Just another thing he felt guilty about.
The horror of it. He couldn’t fathom being linked to the same person for the rest of his existence. Seemed a ridiculous notion that there was a single soul that would connect to his. He decided it was natural to be unnerved by the idea of a god-yoke, but despite that, he owed Nix’s little mortal Aurielle as much as he owed Nix. She had saved his brother. Saved them all from a demon bent on escape from the underworld. Everyone owed her.
Curious how this connection in conjunction with the spelled hedge worked Luc asked, “And before?”
“She had to show me where it was. But I still miss it sometimes.” Then, before he had time to respond, Nix said, “I’m going to collect some flowers for Auri. Wait here,” and disappeared into the woods.
Luc grumbled and turned back to look at the hedge once more, walking its length when he heard women’s voices—sweet and lilting—coming from inside. He stepped back, searching for the elusive entrance.
“Remember when we were talking to Tarley the other day? About the man in the woods?” Aurielle—he’d known her voice—replied.
“So romantic…” the other said, her voice soft and whimsical. Which left only two possibilities: Luc’s woodland fairy or the other sister, the one with the dark, soulful eyes. “Why are we doing this again?” she asked.
He wondered which one was with Aurielle and suppressed any hope it might be his singer.
“Well, I’ve met someone.” Aurielle snapped the words, because the other one seemed to be antagonistic about being dragged out into the woods.
He grinned at their bickering. Relatable.
“I have so many questions! You’ve been behind the hedge since–” The sister’s voice cut off abruptly, then she shouted, “The Great Nap Escapade?”
“So,” Aurielle said, drawing out the word, “you’re doing this for true love. And I promise, Brin, you won’t have to wait long.”
Brin.
Brinna.
He ignored the pitter patter of his heart in favor of frowning and pressed his fingers against his breastbone.
There were words spoken Luc couldn’t discern, followed by Aurielle bursting from the hedge. She called out for Nix and disappeared across the road through the bramble.
“What if someone comes?” Brinna called, then groaned. “Annoying.”
He was going to talk to her! He swallowed as he thought about what to say. “Couldn’t agree more.” Luc couldn’t see her; she was still hidden within the hedge.
She gasped. “Who’s there?”
“The brother.”
Her head—like a disembodied apparition—appeared from the hedge, turning to look for him. When she saw him, her eyes widened. It was the first time he realized her eyes were gray.
“Whose brother?”
He hummed but said, “Since we’re both on lookout duty, we could make it interesting.”
“Who are you, exactly?” she asked, stepping from the hedge.
Luc’s breath stopped up, caught up by both disbelief and utter excitement. He was face-to-face with his woodland fairy—though he hadn’t been sure why he ever thought of her as his—who stared at him as if he were something unbelievable. While he’d never intended to return, there he was.
“There you are,” Luc said, finally finding his voice.
She demanded his name.
“Lucian,” he said, turning slightly toward her, his shoulder leaning against the hedge—a terrible choice. He straightened and wiped the leaves from his shoulder.
“And you’re not here to meet my sister?”
“Stars, no,” he said, allowing himself to truly look at her as he shook his head, grateful, suddenly, that Nix asked him to be his unnecessary wingman. “That would be my brother. Come closer.” He gave her a slight grin. “I don’t bite. Usually.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m fine right here, thank you.”
“You know my name, which gives you power. Will you not offer the same?” Though he already knew it, he wanted her to offer it freely.
“Brinna,” she replied and disappeared back into the hedge.
“Wait,” Luc called. “Where did you go?” The hedge didn’t have an entrance. “Where are you?”
“Here,” she whispered, as if daring him to find her. Despite the low volume, her voice reached him, and he wondered, strangely, if it always would.
He used his godlight to sneak through the magical threads of the hedge, and his arms passed through, allowing him to grasp Brinna. Using her as leverage, he pulled himself inside.
She squealed—a cute little sound that seemed as if she was trying to be quiet about it—and stumbled into him, her palms pressed against his chest. Heat seared his skin underneath his clothes where her hands rested.
“What are you doing?” she demanded. “Unhand me.”
He did. Immediately. Swiping his hands over the place she’d touched to wipe away the sensation. He hated the added impulse of wanting to wrap her up in his arms.
Ridiculous. He told himself he was curious about this hedge, given he’d never seen anything like it on his Roam.
He walked deeper into an arched passageway that stretched out in front of him with no end in sight, as if it curled in on itself. Surprised by the muted light inside, Luc glanced over his shoulder, where Brinna now stood framed by an arched entrance.
She followed him. “What is wrong with you?”
His internal glow warmed the darkness inside the hedge so he could see her features, which pinched with her frown. He wanted to press his thumb against her mouth, run the pad of it across her lips, but he swallowed the urge instead and looked away.
“If I keep walking, what will I find?” he asked, ignoring her question for one of his own.
“The cottage. Where I live.” She paused, then said, “You truly couldn’t see me? That seems… unbelievable.”
He hummed and looked around. “Perhaps if it wasn’t enchanted.”
“Enchanted!” She scoffed, an unflattering kind of snort, but Luc found it… cute. “You must be mistaken.”
He snorted back at her, incredulous. “I am not mistaken. Not about this.”
“You don’t make mistakes?” She offered a sharp laugh.
He’d begun to think this—trapping himself in proximity to her—was one. “Absolutely not,” he lied. The very large mistake in his immediate past had nearly cost him his brother, but she didn’t need to know about that.
“I highly doubt that.” She crossed her arms, her dark eyebrows arching over her pretty eyes. “Now, why are you glowing?”
“Why is this hedge enchanted?” he countered, realizing he should have doused his godlight so his father wouldn’t know, but he didn’t with her attention finally fixed on him.
They stood facing one another, the hedge seeming to close in around them. He only needed to take a step, and he’d be close enough to draw her into his arms, lean forward, and kiss her. The shrinking hedge and his overpowering urge to touch her made him feel like he couldn’t take a deep enough breath.
“How do you get out of here?” The shrinking hedge unnerved him, even if it was an illusion…Then he realized he couldn’t see the opening any longer. It had disappeared. He was trapped.
“I need to go,” he gasped.
She looked at him with confusion and concern. “Walk.” She reached out and touched him once more, her fingers gripping his elbow. His skin burst alive, energy arcing and racing across his flesh until it collided between his shoulder blades.
“Right here,” she said, gently guiding him in the right direction.
The entrance materialized.
“It’s too tight in here.” He rushed past her and stumbled out to the road, gulping breaths, trying to correct his thoughts. Embarrassing.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
Unnerved by her, by his attraction to her, by his embarrassment, he said harsher than he intended, “Of course.”
“You just seemed…”
“What?”
“Upset.”
He huffed again. “Ridiculous.” But he was lying. He had been upset. Upset because he’d wanted more than he should. Upset because he’d looked like a fool.
“Time’s up,” he said, sending Nix a mental message that he was leaving, even if it would alert his father. And with a quick turn, he left, leaving Brinna standing there, resolving to never have to see her again.
Except…
Err in Judgement No. 2
Luc had sworn never to return to Sevens. He’d told himself any interaction with Brinna was a mistake and to stay as far away as possible. But there he was, in Sevens, attending a country dance.
Nix and Aurielle had gotten in a terrible fight, and though they’d separated for reasons unbeknownst to Luc, the god-yoke was wreaking havoc on his brother’s system, dragging him back to Sevens. Luc right along with him.
So, despite Luc’s resolve, he couldn’t seem to escape the place. Worse yet, he was beginning to look forward to it. This awful little place was where Brinna was, after all.
Wait.
No.
Brinna Fareview. Absolutely not. She was a blight on his peace.
While he would do anything to get away from his banishment at Sol, visiting Sevens didn’t seem to be the answer. After what had happened at the hedge, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Brinna—but he didn’t need chaos in his life. With a. huff, he ran a hand through his hair, irritated that he was even thinking about her.
But Nix needed him.
Luc owed Nix, so he went.
Brinna was standing with her sisters; his gaze sought her out the moment he and Nix arrived.
“Lucian,” she said curtly, a bright blush staining her cheeks. She didn’t smile, which irritated him. He was aware how frequently she smiled otherwise.
“Brinna,” he replied with equally false apathy. Two could play that game.
She looked away immediately.
As his brother whisked Aurielle out to dance, rather than ask Brinna—which Luc annoyingly wanted to do—he asked her sister Tarley.
Tarley nodded and let him swirl her into the throng of dancers. His gaze, however, returned to Brinna, watching them, a look she severed when she caught his gaze. She rolled her eyes instead and turned her head away.
Feeling devilish, Luc then asked Aurielle to dance, followed by Jessamine, and by the time he appeared before Brinna, her annoyance was a palpable creature with fangs.
“Would you like to dance?” he asked, offering her a grin.
She lifted her gray eyes to meet his. Even as much as she tried to shutter the look of hurt contained within by narrowing them, she replied in a huff, “No. I don’t think I do,” followed by a haughty shake of her head.
He shrugged, feigning indifference even though disappointment wove a new tapestry knitted with challenge inside him, lighting a fire in his gut. He hadn’t had many opportunities to be a hunter, and that spurned his competitive drive to want to claim something even if he wasn’t being honest about what it was. So, instead of walking away and leaving her be, he remained at her side.
Brinna, of course, rose to his challenge, remaining where she was. They stood side by side. Self-satisfaction bathed him each time a prospective suitor considered asking Brinna to dance before his eyes flitted in Luc’s direction and veered away, taking the suitor’s attention elsewhere.
Eventually she whirled on Luc, gray eyes shooting daggers that would’ve wounded at that range. “Why are you standing there?”
He raised his eyebrows at her with mock innocence. “Am I not allowed to stand here?”
Her mouth opened, then shut. Then she pointed at him. “No one is asking me to dance,” she snapped, the tip of her finger poking his chest with each word. “Because of you.”
That touch skittered like a skipping stone, shedding heat with each bounce, heat that slid through him with pleasant repercussions. He was suddenly relieved no one had asked her. “I didn’t think you wanted to dance,” he replied, glancing at where she’d touched him, smug for some reason.
She snatched her hand back and put both hands on her hips. “Who says I don’t?”
Luc liked the vibrant way her face glowed in her ire, the way her gray eyes were bluer just then, but he hid the urge to smile, knowing instinctively that it would take whatever game he was playing with her too far. “You did. You said you didn’t want to when I asked.” He just wanted to win this battle, only he wasn’t exactly sure what he’d be winning at this point. Perhaps her acquiescence.
She narrowed her eyes, her hands still on her hips. “I don’t want to dance with you!”
“And why not?” He waved a hand at the dance floor as if he were presenting it to her. “Clearly you’d like to dance.”
“Because–” She twisted away from him, her arms crossed over her heaving chest. She didn’t finish her thought.
“Because?”
She refused to answer, refused to look at him.
“You’re angry because I danced with all your sisters before you.” He wasn’t sure why he wanted her to admit it.
She gasped, her arms falling to her sides as she turned fully toward him. “I am not. I don’t even like you.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t?”
She leaned forward. “I do not. You’re arrogant, condescending, and rude.”
He leaned toward her, his gaze dipping to her frowning mouth, rationalizing he was just trying to teach her a lesson as he leaned even closer to whisper in her ear. “Or maybe your pride is just smarting?”
He was hit with her scent, sweet jasmine with a warm layer of summer, and suddenly wondered if he was on the losing end of the game because he wanted to grab hold of her and whisk her somewhere else. He shook off the impulse.
She jerked back as if slapped, and instead of saying anything, turned and walked away.
That wasn’t what he’d wanted. He watched her weave through the room and duck out the door into the night, noting a retinue of possible suitors notice the same thing, and for the first time in his entire life, Luc felt two emotions with which he was mostly unfamiliar before Brinna: jealousy and regret, at least where a woman was concerned.
He'd pushed her too far and didn’t understand his desire to do it.
So, he followed her out. At least by being near her, he could make sure she was safe.
When he emerged from the meeting house, she wasn’t in sight, but he caught a glimmer of her blue dress between the trees. Eventually, he stepped into a small meadow to find her looking up at the night sky. It was beautiful, the light twinkling across the expanse of darkness, and Luc liked that there were bits of his power mixed with Nix’s to make something so dazzling.
But when he looked at Brinna, his breath caught, realizing her beauty superseded anything he might have ever created in the whole of his life. With her chin tilted up toward the sky, her silhouette created something otherworldly, as if she was a goddess herself.
His mind retreated into the memory of watching her pull that empty wagon, of her smile and her song. It was a time Brinna wouldn’t remember, since Aurielle had changed their reality when she’d broken the spell, but he remembered the unexpected way being near her had made him feel… rattled.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” he said with irritation that didn’t make sense. He’d won the battle of wills, after all. He should have felt superior, but he didn’t.
She twirled at the sound of his voice and made a frustrated noise as she turned away once more. “I’m trying to get away from you.”
“I’ve upset you.”
She lifted her chin. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure you’re safe.”
“I’m perfectly fine.” She glanced at him over her shoulder.
“I’d like to make sure, just the same.”
She looked up, shivered, and wrapped her arms around her torso, turned away from him once more. “Suit yourself.”
Luc removed his jacket. “Here,” he said and draped it over her shoulders. “You’re shivering.”
Brinna looked from the jacket to him, and he had the impression she was at war with wanting to throw it at him or burrow into its warmth.
He looked up at the sky once more. “You enjoy star gazing?”
Her gaze shifted up. “I find comfort looking at them.”
“There’s a place I’ve visited where the stars sparkle in the night sky, and light dances across the sky like fluttering ribbons.”
She took a deep breath. “That must be beautiful.” She paused, then said, “I like the stories about them. I used–” But she stopped.
“Used to?” he asked, suddenly curious.
But she didn’t continue, and though he was curious to know what she’d been about to tell him, he was content to let it drop.
A few moments later, he turned to face her, needing to find a way across the bridge he’d burned. “I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings, mi alora. Earlier… by waiting to ask you to dance.”
She turned to look at him. “Mi alora?” she asked, using ancient Ra’ha, the language of the gods.
Confused, Luc tilted his head. “What? Where did you hear that? How do you know Ra’ha?”
“Ra’ha? You just said it. What does that mean?”
Luc swallowed and straightened, his heart skittering a haphazard rhythm in his chest. Why had he used old language, that particular phrase? With her? “I did?”
My heart.
Brinna nodded.
Rather than admit it, admit what it meant, because his heart was bumbling around inside his chest with a mixture of feeling—confusion, anxiety, anticipation—he turned to face her. “I would like to make it up to you,” he deflected. “May I have a dance? Under the stars?”
“Here?”
He saw she liked the idea by the way her countenance softened, so he took a step closer, anticipating her scent once more. “Yes. Here,” he replied. “Allow me to make amends.”
When she nodded, he dipped a hand under the jacket still draped over her shoulders and slid it around her waist to the center of her back, then folded his hand around hers. Chills raced across his skin, and he urged her a touch closer.
Brinna complied, and Luc, because he was still his devilish self, pulled her even closer until they were firmly pressed against one another. Then he danced with Brinna Fareview—his singing woodland fairy— with the music in the distance, in that little meadow under the stars. His memories of her careened around inside him, clashing with the feelings he had seeing her, the need he felt to remain near her, and the curiosity he felt to allow himself the pleasure of kissing her just once.
They danced.
“Brinna?” he asked, longing to see the sparkle in her eyes.
She made a soft questioning sound as she lifted her face.
His eyes dropped to her mouth, to that little divot in her bottom lip. Without considering the consequences, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers, nipping at her bottom lip. She gasped, then relaxed into him, tilting her head, inviting the kiss to continue.
Their swaying stopped, the dance forgotten, and Luc slid a hand up her spine under his jacket draped over her shoulders, pressing her even closer.
Her hands wrapped around him; her softness pressed against his chest.
When she made a needy sound, his control slipped, and with his tongue, he explored that little divot until her lips parted, allowing him in. The moment she did, the kiss caught fire and he lost reason, as just a taste turned more substantial and wishful.
A shout and a laugh in the distance tore the kiss apart.
Brinna touched her mouth, a little sound of shock in the space between them.
Afraid of what he’d done, of the sensations crawling through him filling up the space inside of him with longing for her, he stepped back. “There. Obligatory dance given.” He swiped his hands together and took another step away from her.
“Excuse me?”
“Just trying to keep my brother happy,” he lied.
With a groan of frustration—and maybe hurt—she pulled his jacket from her shoulders and shoved it against his chest. Then without a word, Brinna walked back toward the meeting house, leaving him both happy she was returning to safety without him having to carry her there, and angry with himself for hurting her. Again.
He sighed, knowing it was for the better.
He would never return to Sevens again.
Never see Brinna.
And that was just fine with him. At least, that was the lie he told himself.
