Immortals After Dark 04 - Wicked Deeds on a Winters Night

shoulder.
    Mari got chills on the back of her neck, and she slowly turned. Somehow she knew what she would find. The female standing there was... Mariah.
    There’d been no shared soul between them.
    The blond princess stood, tall and graceful, by Bowen’s side, resplendent in a long, white gown. And they looked perfect together. Her violet eyes glinted with emotion as she glanced from Mari to Bowen. Bowen’s own eyes burned with some inscrutable light.
    Stay standing... stay standing . “She’s returned?”
    “Aye. Resurrected by a sorceress. You knew what I believed about you and her. So tell me how this is possible, Mariketa.”
    He wasn’t outright accusing her of an enchantment again, but there was a suspicious note in his tone. Faced with this scene, even she began to doubt herself. “How would I know?” She pinched her forehead between her thumb and her forefinger. Though she’d just come from a healing, her head had started to pound.
    “Because you’re a witch—”
    “A witch, Bowen?” Mariah sidled even closer to Bowen as if for protection. “But you despise them!”
    As he absently patted her hand, he said to Mari, “This is your area of expertise.”
    “Resurrection is not my area of expertise. I only know that there are a very limited number of beings on earth that can do it. Most of those won’t, ” Mari answered. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on—I’m fresh from a plane wreck and a shade bewildered here. But I do know we can figure it out.” She met his eyes and held out her hand. “Together.”
    Just when she thought Bowen’s body tensed to move—to cross the ten feet to Mari’s side, the princess said, “Bowen, who is this woman? Did you... did you find another? You told me I was the only one,” she added softly. “You vowed to me that you’d never want another as long as you lived.”
    He didn’t walk the ten feet.
    Mari exhaled a breath she hadn’t known she’d held and dropped her hand. She could read the writing on the wall. Just what in the hell would it take for someone to look at her and say “I choose you ”? “If I leave here today, MacRieve, I leave for good.”
    Seeming as though she’d faint, the princess whispered, “I gave up my soul to rejoin you. Was this sacrifice for naught?”
    He put his flattened hands out as if motioning everyone to slow down. “Just give me a minute... to think... ”
    Her soul? How can I compete with that? Mari wanted to loathe her, needed to, but she only pitied this other female who’d made the ultimate surrender to be with the male she loved. She found herself murmuring, “To think I’d worried about you going back for her, when she was already on her way forward.”
    Hope flashed in the fey’s violet eyes. “You were trying to go back for me?”
    “For nearly two hundred years,” Mari told her. Relentlessly. Mercilessly ridding any obstacles in his pursuit of this exquisite princess—a fairy-tale princess.
    Mariah was the name he’d called out the night he’d believed he’d claimed his mate.
    “Then you must still care for me,” Mariah said. “And you wear my pendant after all this time.”
    Mari swung her gaze to the medallion he wore at his neck—the one that he never took off.
    Even when he’d made love to her. Bastard!
    He glanced down, seeming surprised he wore it. “I just need to think for a few bloody minutes. Just... just let me think .”
    B team. Why am I even surprised?
    “What’s there to think about, Bowen?” Mari demanded. “You’ve got a choice—make a decision.” But choose me !
    His eyes narrowed. Maybe she was being unreasonable. Maybe he wouldn’t take her hand not because he no longer wanted Mari, but because he wanted to spare the princess any unnecessary hurt. Yet Mari needed him to walk to her side and pronounce her as his so badly —longed for him to. “MacRieve?”
    “Doona push me, witch.”
    Witch. Her heart fell. He’ll never see past that. At his words, Mari was reminded that she and Bowen hadn’t resolved the obstacles between them—because they couldn’t . The fey princess suited him far better, and probably deserved him more for the sacrifice she’d made.
    Suddenly, Mari became aware of the group witnessing this scene—Emma and her Lykae husband gazed at her and at Bowen with sympathy, while Carrow and Regin looked alternately sorry for her and incensed with him. Mari recognized that arguing with him here like this wouldn’t get him back. She