Was she his mate, perhaps?
I turned off the shower, and water streamed down my body as I stepped out. Fragrant air skimmed in through the open window onto my bare skin.
As I toweled off my hair, I stared down across the wide courtyard. Salem lived in what I’d call a palace. Where I stood now, I was two stories above the garden. Beneath me, fig and apple trees lined a dirt path.
Was it just me, or did the worst people have the best lives?
I watched as Salem crossed out into his garden, bathed in the moonlight. He moved smoothly in the darkness, his cat hurrying after him on the garden path. I could see my magic glowing around his body.
Euphoria rose in my chest at the thought of how my magic would feel reunited with my body.
With a sense of building excitement, I crossed naked out of the bathroom into a bedroom. The guest room looked ancient—rough stone walls, a metal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Statues stood in arched alcoves—mostly depicting women in obscene positions, but the stonework was masterful.
Someone had laid out a clean set of clothes on the silky duvet—a simple black miniskirt and a button-down shirt. I dressed myself, singing Elvis’s “Suspicious Minds” to myself quietly as I did.
I’d lost my shoes in the swim, but someone had left another pair by the bed—exactly my size. I slid into them. Cleaned and fully dressed, I crossed out of the bedroom.
I rushed down the stairs. But on the landing, I paused. A painting hung on the wall, flanked by torches. Except a silk cloth covered the frame.
A sharp pull of curiosity compelled me to peer under the cloth, holding my breath. Under it, I found an image in oils of a beautiful woman. An eight-pointed star gleamed in her forehead, and wings swept down her back. Silver hair tumbled over a pale gold gown. Lavender and peach light lit up a sky behind her. My breath caught in my throat.
This was her, I was certain. This was the woman in the driftwood soul cage.
For a moment, confronted with her face, I felt something like guilt.
Then my jaw tightened. Like I’d said to Salem, I did what I had to do to protect the seas.
I trusted my vision, even if Salem didn’t.
I covered the image again and rushed down the rest of the stairs. At the bottom, a set of glass doors opened to the garden.
I pulled open the doors. Fig and apple trees grew on either side of a path, and grapevines clung to the outer stone walls. Mushrooms circled some of the tree trunks, and blood-red flowers carpeted the floor. This whole place was beautiful.
As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I caught sight of Salem down the path, my blue-green magic shimmering around his muscled body.
The alluring scent of the garden washed over me. Salem leaned back against a tree, sipping his wine. His eyes burned with fiery hues as he watched me. The breeze ruffled his hair a little. He really looked like he had not a care in the world. Strange that he should be so at ease when the smoky magic spooling off him made my chest ache with fear.
And then there was the music of his magic.
For some creatures, the sound of their magic was as melodious and sweet as cherubs playing harps.
In Salem’s case? It sounded like primal drums echoing off cave walls. And underneath the drums, distant screams. That was his magic.
Everything about him unsettled me, and his heartbreaking beauty only enhanced the effect. No wonder the Lucifer stories he’d inspired were ones of temptation and despair, of seduced women and lost souls.
As I drew closer, I realized I could smell something else on him—my sea magic. The air tasted of salt, and I felt a charge of watery magic skimming my skin.
As I moved closer, the magnetic pull between us felt overwhelming. Something tugged me to him, and I closed the distance until I was standing only inches from him. I just wanted to bask in the feel of my magic, and it tingled over my skin.
Already, the moonlight seemed a little brighter, silvery on his dark hair.
He lowered his wineglass, his gaze meeting mine for a long time. He towered over me, and I realized his face was a perfect study of contrasts—fiery eyes and dark lashes, masculine jaw and sensual lips.
But the real question was—how the hells could he look so relaxed while channeling magic that powerful? My own magic made me half insane.
“I’m ready for my magic,” I said.
Without a word, he reached for my waist. As soon as he made contact with me, his hand channeled electrifying magic into my body. A rush of power coiled into my body from his, and I felt my back arch. Power swept into my body from the points of his fingers, from his palm—a rushing charge that flooded me from that one point of contact and vibrated through my belly. It rolled into my thighs, my legs, my chest and arms, and I gasped.
As my body filled with magic, my mind blazed with images of an ocean’s surface, pierced with golden rays of light—a cathedral of life.
Life. The ocean was life, and its power was washing into me. Already, I could feel my body growing stronger. I possessed the strength of a fae goddess.
My senses started to heighten, and I could hear the blackbirds’ song around me. Not just their song but their heartbeats, their breaths. I could hear Salem’s heart, too, pounding loud as a drum. And his sensual magic was like tongues licking over my skin. He smelled like sin…
Oh gods, I could hear the plants growing slowly around me. The rich scent of the soil curled around me, and with it, figs and apples, their smell heavy with sweet sensuality.
A warm breeze skimmed my skin like a caress. Yes.
I opened my eyes, staring up at the starry sky. The stars were no longer distant points. They pulsed above me, living and dying creatures—some of them red with old age, some mere clouds of beaming dust. Life and beauty everywhere around me.
Venus blazed blue in the sky, so stunning I could hardly breathe. The cold, dusky beauty of its light was like a million pieces of glass shattering in my heart. It was the beauty of Salem…
Humans once called that the evening star—a god of twilight, like Salem himself. I turned to look into his eyes and found the same silver-blue as the evening star above us. His face was masculine perfection, carved by the gods. Would he look at me that way when I shoved the sea glass into his heart?
There was no one else but us, so close our breath mingled… His powerful energy was like a force of nature around me.
It took me a moment to realize that I’d pressed myself against his body, hips crushed against his. In my delirium, I’d draped one of my arms around his neck. He smelled of smoke and pomegranates, and a faint light gleamed on his forehead.
His heart beat against me, and his eyes burned brightly. He wrapped an arm around me, and I leaned into its power. He moved one of his fingertips over my hipbone, the touch light. Such a subtle touch, but deeply sexual. I was so transfixed that I couldn’t remember how to pull away from him.
One corner of his lip curled in a wicked smile. “I see we’re getting to know each other better.” His voice skimmed over my skin, velvet soft. “Though I imagine you have some half-baked plan to kill me.”
Slowly, I pulled myself away from him, my limbs humming. I wanted to eat everything in the garden. I reached up to pull an apple from the tree above him and bit into it. Its sweet tang exploded on my tongue.
“The ocean is the source of all life,” I said, then realized my mouth was full of apple. I swallowed. “And I’m alive again. And I’m going to keep it safe.”