Page 5 of A Kiss of Flame
“I was lookin’ foryou,” he growled, his voice low and menacing. He’d thought she was dead—or worse.
Carvatticus hovered behind the mage, his expression surprised and amused as he took Barith in from toe to top. The daemon looked almost precisely as Barith remembered—short, slender, with sharp, clever eyes. His horns were shorter, probably thanks to Levian’s handiwork a few summers past. The daemon flashed a catlike smirk and took a small step back as if to say, ‘Good luck, old chum. You’re going to need it.’
“Well, you’ve succeeded,” Levian snapped back. “And you’ve nearly gotten yourself killed in doing so.”
The house shuddered before either could say more, and a large beam began to break apart right above Levian’s head. Barith reacted instinctively, lunging forward to grab her, throwing his wings up to shield them from the falling debris.
Levian gasped in irritated shock, but she leaned into him when the dust settled. The scent of night jasmine filled his lungs as his nose pressed into her hair. It was like a wash of sunshine through his body. For a brief moment, she looked up into his face, and a crash of emotions seemed to swirl behind her eyes before she quickly tamped them down.
“Get off,” the mage snarled, shoving her hands against his chest, and though he didn’t move at first, Barith soon stepped back, giving her space.
“Before you two start again,” Car interjected as the mage hauled in a breath, “I suggest we get the Hells out of here. I plan to die in the arms of a lover, not under a caving filthy roof.” A piece of ceiling fell to the floor, punctuating his point. Without another word, the daemon turned and stalked out.
Levian glared at Barith but kept her lips pressed shut. “He’s right,” she muttered, slipping past him. “We should—ouch!” She stumbled, bracing herself on his arm.
Barith could tell Levian was exhausted, and now her ankle was hurt. He leaned over and scooped her into his arms with ease.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Levian hissed, though she wrapped her arms firmly around his neck.
“Yer hurt, and I’m no’ gonna watch you hobble yer way out of here,” he declared, following after Car.
“I’m fine,” she retorted, glaring up at him. Barith ignored her. She wasn’t fine, and he wasn’t in the mood to argue. “You’re about to lose what little clothing you have left,” she added tartly.
“Ye’ve seen me naked before,” he reminded her gruffly. Many times. In their circles and amongst the Folk, nudity wasn’t uncommon. He’d seen her naked before, too.
“That doesn’t mean my eyes aren’t worse off for it,” she shot back.
He grunted. “No one says you have to look.” Levian huffed with exasperation but went quiet.
Once they reached a clearing large enough in the trees, Barith opened his wings and shot into the air, leaving Carvatticus to find his way through the edge of the forest. Levian gripped his neck tighter and groaned several curses at him, shoving her face against the crook of his neck. She wasn’t a fan of flying. Barith landed in a grassy field, and Levian leaped from his arms. The mage shoved her hand into her enchanted bag and produced a colorful knitted blanket, which she threw at him.
“Do cover yourself up,” she commanded.
With a grunt, Barith wrapped the blanket around his waist, sending what little remained of his charred clothing cascading to the ground.
“Onlyyouwould set yourself aflame as a means of escape,” she muttered, rubbing her temple.
“It’s no’ like I’m often trapped inside enchanted bloody walls,” he snapped.
Levian sighed deeply through her nose and looked up to the dusky sky as if she were silently beseeching the Goddesses for strength. “What are you doing here, Barith?” she asked. “Shouldn’t you be home feasting and celebrating your upcoming nuptials?” Her words had a sharp edge, more cutting than usual.
Barith met her glare with a surly look of his own. Heshouldbe home—playing his part. Instead, he was here, in damned Germany, searching for Levian. “You disappeared,” he growled.
“And?” she challenged. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t disappeared before, though this time had been different.
“Gwen sent word,” he explained angrily. “She said she thought you might be in trouble. Forgive me for tryin’ to make sure ye werenae dead or trapped in some old witch’s dungeon.”
The mage’s brows furrowed. She could see through him—she always could. She knew he was lying, at least partially. “Gwen made you think I was in real trouble?” she questioned astutely. “Or told you Imightbe getting into trouble? We both know they aren’t the same thing.”
A direct hit. Barith couldn’t bring himself to admit the truth: after he’d last talked to Gwen, he’d been consumed with the need to find Levian—to see her safe. Admittedly, the mage was always in some trouble, but that didn’t absolve her entirely. “Gwen was troubled and worried about you,” he replied flatly—the truth. Gwenhadbeen worried, and her worry had leached into Barith.
Levian’s gaze softened at that, and she let out a little sigh. “I haven’t talked to her in a few weeks,” the mage admitted, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she leaned back to sit on a small rock. “I broke my phone and haven’t replaced it. I should have checked in, but I’m sure Sirus told her I would be fine, although I know she likes to worry.”
“Aye. She does,” he confirmed.
Gwendolyn was very new to their world of immortals, and she did tend to overthink things. However, given that an evil High Priestess had tried to kill her and steal her magick the year before, they all felt she deserved a bit of grace in her concerns.
Levian met his gaze and cocked a brow. “That still doesn’t explain why you’re here, though,” she challenged him. “You cannot have truly been so concerned for my wellbeing that you ditched your fiancée and risked upsetting your mother to come find me.”