Slowly, the winds obeyed. It wasn’t easy, and the storm fought him every step of the way. If he hadn’t already known the tempest was of magical origin, this would’ve confirmed it for him.
Most air fae would’ve struggled to combat such a powerful storm and would have been unable to calm the swirling winds. They would’ve given up or called for backup.
Not Nikhail. There was a reason his family called him the Whisperer. The moniker was teasing, yet serious in a way that only family could achieve. He was one of the most powerful air fae who had ever called the Republic of Balance their home.
He kept working, continuously whispering to the wind, until the gusts were reduced to a gentle breeze. He didn’t stop there, though. Pulling up more magic, he kept going until there was no wind at all.
Only then did Nikhail lower his hand, cupping the back of River’s legs once again. His gaze slid to her face, and her brown eyes were wide as they studied him intently. Her hand was still over his heart, and he hugged her closer. He couldn’t help it. The need to keep her near him forever was nearly overwhelming.
She seemed calmer than before. Less frantic and frightened, more like herself. Even so, rain was still pouring from the clouds. The ground was absorbing most of it, but the city drains couldn’t take much more.
“Can you call back the storm?” he asked.
River’s lips parted, and she drew in a shaky breath. “I… I think so? I need to be standing, though.”
She wiggled in his arms. Even though putting her down felt wrong—his heart screamed that she was his and he should never let her go—he set her on her feet. He kept his hands by her hips, ready to catch her if she stumbled.
River glanced over her shoulder, as if confirming he was still there.
“You’ve got this,” he assured her, smiling softly. “I’m right here.”
He wouldn’t leave her alone, especially in the midst of a storm.
The corner of River’s lips twitched up. It couldn’t be called a smile, but it was better than the panicked, pained expression she’d worn earlier.
Pushing back her shoulders, she raised her hands, palms facing up. The tang of magic in the air grew stronger. The effect was almost instantaneous as the torrential downpour slowed.
When Nikhail was certain River wouldn’t fall over as she called the magic back into herself, he slowly walked around her. Her eyes were shut, and her pink lips were parted in concentration. Her head was tilted towards the sky, her dewy skin glistening beneath the moonlight.
He had never seen a more magnificent sight. If he whispered to the wind, she sang to the water.
Power was in every minuscule movement of her hands, every pulse of her magic, every moment that passed as the storm settled.
It was on her face, her stern yet serene expression as she concentrated on calming her magic. It radiated from her, a siren’s call beckoning him forward.
River’s power was beautiful and dangerous, stunning and deadly. It entranced him.
His fingers twitched with the nearly overwhelming urge to let his magic out to dance with hers. Power strained in his veins, wanting to be intertwined with her storm.
Air and water. Two parts of a storm. Equally powerful and deadly.
He’d never reacted to anyone else’s magic like this.
Before Nikhail could do something incredibly stupid, like close the distance between himself and his best friend’s sister, gather her in his arms, and swear to never let her go, the rain stopped.
River’s hands fell to her sides, and her eyes fluttered open. She swayed; her face alarmingly pale. The effects of using so much magic could be draining, even for the most powerful fae.
Brown eyes met his. “Did I do it? Did I stop it in time?”
He took a step towards her, extending his hands between them. “Yes, princess. You did well.”
“Good.” A true smile spread across her lips as she repeated the word, murmuring it to herself.
Her eyes closed, and then she fainted.
CHAPTER 5
Cursed, Indeed