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His mouth descended and he thrust deep inside her. Wrapping her body around him, holding him to her for this last perfect time, Jeren wept as she took him inside her, and cried out his name with her climax. 16 He could hardly move. Even to breathe created agony. His chest and shoulders burned. The skin had closed around the arrow wounds, his natural healing powers already allowing him recovery, even here in this pit of torment. But every moment he feared the newly knit skin would rip apart. The legendary recuperative powers of the Feyna needed time, and Gilliad had seen fit to give him that time. He saw no need to give him comfort as well. She flexed her fingers, forced the strain of indecision from her face and tried to imitate a smile. Ilydona laid a soothing hand on Jerens arm. We know, my lady. But what can we do about it? What can any of us do? He is the Lord of River Holt, the Scion of Jern. And his powers have grown vast. All we can do is endure. Rage-fuelled tears burned in her eyes. But she couldnt let him see that. Not him. Not anyone but especially not him. She had to get away. Without another word, she stormed by him, determined to just walk, to ignore him, to keep control of herself no matter what. [ i_001.jpg] Im glad you listened to him. She pushed the centerpiece away. Why dont you love me, Dakota? Jerens eyes stung as she thought of that sudden coldness he raised between them like a shield, whenever it looked like, just for a moment, he felt as she felt. But he always found a way to make ice clamp around her heart, to remind her that she was different from him in every way—human, magic user,weak and useless. She drew the blanket further around her body, cold now despite the fire, as night closed in around her. Rowan clicks his tongue, aware that his leg is jiggling up and down. Holtguards and Shistra-Phail flanked her. His own brother, their friends, and guards willing to die to protect her. Shan. Her Shan. Far from it. Shan barked out a bitter laugh. You at least have a soul. Come on, Jeren. Keep up. He strode forwards again but she held firm. His face was a mask. Gilliad cast it aside. It should be yours, Lady Jeren. So should River Holt. Only when I breathe, mutters Rowan. Hes conflicted. He doesnt feel qualified to give anybody advice, but he knows it makes him feel good when people are interested in what he has to say. Most importantly, he might get to meet some new people. Every new acquaintance is a potential lead for whatever story might suddenly take the bait. And hes willing to admit to himself that Violet Rayner is starting to intrigue him. He remembers what Dippy had told him – she’d written a story. She was starting to remember. Perhaps if he went along he might be able to charm a copy of whateverit was she’d written. And it would help him seem less like some nasty outsider and more like a known quantity. The Fellna had taken him away from her. She didnt even know if he was still alive..