Her surprise faded, and she hugged him back.

“Scared to let you out of my sight for even a minute.” He eventually released her. “We’ll be right down.”

He disappeared, leaving Jo in this strange house—one more development to top off this epically weird night.

SIXTY-SEVEN

When Darach’s tracking got Rune close enough to pick up Josephine’s trail himself, he raced ahead of the other Møriør, following her meadowberry scent. His heart pounded, just as it had ages ago when he’d run headlong to that glen. . . .

He found her in an imposing mansion. His ears twitched when he heard her voice coming from inside. Conscious! She didn’t sound afraid or too badly injured.

Her brother was within as well. Rune caught threads of Thad’s scent, both new and old, and suspected the boy had taken her back to his home. Detecting no enemies nearby, Rune faced his allies. “I have it from here.”

“You don’t want us to storm this structure?” Sian asked.

Allixta reached up and scratched Darach under the chin. “Careful, or the wolf might blow it down.”

Rune shook his head. “She’s safe here with Thaddeus. I’m going to give her a couple of hours to cool off, then approach her.”

“A couple of hours?” Allixta dropped her hand. “You told us she’s waited half her life to reunite with her brother. Shouldn’t they bond before you barge in, with all your nympho drama taking center stage?”

“She needs to know I didn’t take that female.”

Allixta rolled her eyes. “No, you need the halfling to know that. Selfish male! Let her have some bloody time for herself.” To everyone, she said, “Sometimes the lot of you astound me.”

Not to go to Josephine’s side? At the thought, his desperate need to reach her redoubled.

Allixta said, “You might not have bedded the nymph, but you were in bed with her. You still reek of another female.”

Rune turned to Darach, who nodded.

Damn it! This wasn’t a simple misunderstanding that could be cleared up by his saying, “I didn’t go through with it.” He had been in bed with Meliai—the night after he’d claimed his mate. He struggled to recall what had happened with the nymph.

“We could see your mate’s pain,” Allixta said. “Naturally she’d just escaped your attentions.”

“Watch yourself, witch.”

“Were you ever unselfish with her? Do anything kind for her?”

He’d taken Josephine to a fey ball. In order to get laid. He’d romanced her. To secure her for the Møriør. He’d healed her from a fight. That she would’ve recovered from anyway.

Things would be different. Change? Now he only wanted the chance to.

“You forget,” she added, “we’ve witnessed how you treat your ‘tarts.’ ”

“It’s not like that with Josephine,” he snapped.

“Oh, really? Because fate says so?”

“Look into my mind.” He gave them wide-open access to his thoughts.

One by one, they did. One by one, they paled.

“That’s right,” he said, sounding crazed. “I’m fucking gut-sick over her! Do you see why I’m maddened to be with her?”

Sian gave him a pitying glance. “I hope you’re as good at apologies as you are at seduction.”

In a marveling tone, Blace said, “You’re seven thousand years old, and you have no idea how to handle this.”

“Because it’s that important!” Struggling to rein in his emotions—a blazing inferno—he turned to Allixta. “How long do I give her?”

“You’re a spy. Spy on her. You’ll know when the time is right to approach her.”

Blace said, “We’ll leave you to it, then.”

Once they’d gone, Rune rolled up his sleeve to ink a concealment spell on his arm. He flinched when confronted with the contraceptive he’d painted.

Never again. Free.

He used his other arm. Hidden from sight, Rune stalked closer to the mansion, tracking her to a room downstairs.

He uncovered wards on the main house. He swiftly added his own runes to appropriate the protections, allowing him entry. He would step in if anything went sideways. The slightest hint of danger. Task complete, he peered in the window.

She stood alone in front of the fireplace, gazing at pictures on the mantel. Her eyes were stark, her outline flickering. The tear tracks were gone, but she remained shaken.

In the span of his life, he’d been with her for the blink of an eye.

He never wanted to open his eyes and not see her face.

Josephine had flung him to some place he’d never been before, and now he knew where.

Home.

He raised his hand to the glass, needing to touch her so badly he ached.

SIXTY-EIGHT

Jo turned toward the doorway of the sitting room when MizB and Thad walked in. Woman had some years on her—but she was still the same MizB, down to the boxy glasses and the lame type of pantsuit she always wore to the library.

Jo felt a hit of . . . something.

MizB adjusted her glasses. “Is it really you, Josephine?” She stepped forward as if they were going to hug.

Jo took a step back. “It’s me.” She’d checked out all the photos of Thad, resentful of the years she’d missed. She was fresh from her limited memories of her childhood in Apparitia, fresh from reliving the death of their real mother. Guilt weighed on Jo for not staying with Thaddie.