Heart's Desire

Chapter 23 - Kit

"Using them takes a heavier toll on him. Eirnín, his great-grandma, or whatever she is, says it's because he's still very young, for a Fae. He hasn't learned to control it, yet. It's like opening a floodgate, when all you want is to turn on a tap. It knocks him out for a day, at least, and it upsets the twins."

"The twins, huh?"

"And me," Dane admits, and turns towards us again, meeting Monty's eyes. "I've been selfish, Monty. He's been willing from the start, but I told him there was nothing for him to read. That was a lie."

Monty is quiet for a moment. When he speaks, his voice is gentle. "You did what's natural. Protected your family. Nobody can blame you for that."

"Maybe. But Sasha's family, too. And mom and dad. I've jeopardized everything to spare my Mate a headache."

"It's more than a headache, though, isn't it?"

Dane sighs and looks away again.

"Yeah, it is."

~ ☾ ~

Monty and I accompany the Alpha and his mate to the scene of the burned house, leaving the twins in Martin's care.

Julian says little as we drive over in Monty's car, anger smoldering like amethyst fire in his glare, but Monty assures me in a whisper that he's not mad at us.

"He and Dane have fought about this before," he tells me. "Being a hard-headed ass is kinda Dane's thing, and not being concerned enough for his own safety is Julian's. The two clash, now and then."

When we arrive at the ruins, though, Julian puts his anger side and grows focused and calm.

I show him where I'd picked up the strongest echoes in the area where Dane tells me the front door would have been. He sits on grass beyond the burned area, preparing himself to 'read,' while Dane sets an array of items on the hood of Monty's car: a blanket, a pair of dark glasses, bottled water, painkillers, and an icepack.

I watch with growing curiosity, wondering what exactly will happen. The shadow-like impressions I receive might be frightening, but they don't hurt me. Julian, though, appears to be bracing himself for an ordeal.

"He's clairsentient," Dane explains, noting my observations. "When he picks up on the traces of an event, he experiences it completely—sight, sound, taste, touch, smell. The emotions are the worst for him. Whatever the person felt, he feels it, too. Like it's happening to him."

"Oh."

I'm glad I'm certain no one died here, in that case.

"It used to be only the really traumatic stuff that got to him—violence, pain, death. Now..." Dane shakes his head as Julian rises and comes towards us.

He's always beautiful—graceful, with the supple strength of a slender-limbed stag—but whatever he did to prepare himself to use his abilities has heightened his beauty further still. It's as if a thin veil had covered him, and now it has fallen aside, revealing his true nature beneath.

His face is almost too perfect, the way someone might sculpt the face of an angel or the fairest among the gods, and his violet-hued eyes glow with a soft, inner light. Watching him, I understand his mate's fear, a little: he looks as if he doesn't belong in this world.

"I'm ready," he says.

Dane swallows, a half-tortured twist to his lips, but nods. "Take your time."

Turning towards the burned ruin, Julian walks away among the ashes with slow, measured steps, scanning the ground.

Occasionally, he pauses with his head tilted to one side, as if listening. Sometimes he crouches to touch things among the ash, and sometimes he just stands with his eyes closed, breathing slow and deep.