The trembling sensation returned to Yvaine’s limbs, and yet it felt different this time. The flutter was not one born out of anxiety, of doubt; instead, it felt warm and teasing and comforting. “What is it ye want?”
“Ye,” Caelen said simply. “I want ye. Here. With me. For always.” He shrugged helplessly, an almost apologetic expression upon his face. “Ye’re the one. I knew it from the first moment we met. Not one day has passed that I didna think of ye, that I didna wish ye were here with me. I dunna ken if that is the will of the Fey, and truth be told, I dunna care.” His hands reached out and cupped her face gently, his deep blue eyes sending chills across her skin as they looked into hers. “All my life, I’ve lived for my clan. Every choice I’ve made has been for them. They deserve my loyalty and support, and I hold no regrets.” He sighed deeply, and she could feel the soft touch of his breath against her lips. “Now, though, for once, I simply wish to walk my own path, not that of my clan. I’m simply Caelen, a man, who finds himself rather unexpectedly swept off his feet by a most unusual woman.” He grinned at her mischievously.
