Mists of Velvet

strange past with Suriel. He had told her that he was the angel of death and resurrection, and that he had been there that afternoon when the caretaker so brutally raped her. He’d been there to claim her soul, because she was supposed to die. But then, everything had changed. Mairi discovered her healing powers. And she had lived, and the connection linking her, Mairi, and Suriel had been forged.
    The power of three in Celtic lore was magical. It represented birth, death, and resurrection. Rowan had always wondered what part she was to play in this trine.
    “You’ve been remembering.”
    It was not a question but a statement. There was no need to lie to Suriel, when he already knew the truth. “Yes. Sayer . . . got a bit too close, and it provoked . . . memories.”
    He nodded, and his eyes turned darker. “I remember it, too. Being forced to stand by until it was time to claim you. It haunts me as well. You were so . . . young. And pure.”
    And after, she had been tainted, in the most heinous way possible. There hadn’t been a piece of her that had not been violated. Suriel reached for her and tilted her face up to meet his.
    “Never tainted,” he murmured. “Nothing could mar this radiance I see. There is innocence still in your eyes. He did not take it all. There is a purity to you, Rowan. Despite what has been taken from you, it still shines.”
    She flushed and looked away from his penetrating gaze. “I have felt dirty for so long.”
    “Soon, you no longer will feel that way.”
    Rowan knew it was true. Soon, she would no longer feel. “The pain?” Suriel murmured. “How is it?”
    “Bearable.”
    “Does it hurt now?”
    “A bit.”
    Suriel’s fingertips glided gently over her temples and forehead. “Close your eyes, and concentrate on my fingers.”
    She did. The little tingles on her skin made her shiver. Suriel’s touch immediately chased away the headache coming on.
    “There. All better?”
    She nodded and opened her eyes. “Thank you.”
    His head tilted to the side as if he were studying her. His gaze swept swiftly along her body. “You look very much the same. Are you certain the illness is progressing?”
    Rowan flushed. Everyone knew she was dying. Fricking cancer—a brain tumor, to be precise. She didn’t know why, but she felt ashamed that her body was giving up, letting the cancer win. To look at her, all boobs, hips, and thighs, no one would think she was dying. People who were dying were supposed to be emaciated skeletons. But she hadn’t lost a pound. She was still wearing her size sixteens, which was kind of disappointing, in a sick way. She was expecting to get very skinny.
    “I’m sure,” she murmured at last. “The numbness and tingling are becoming more widespread. Sometimes my legs give out on me, and I can’t feel my feet. My headaches are more severe, and occasionally I can’t see. All are indications that the tumor is growing.”
    Suriel nodded, his face falling. Suddenly he reached out and cupped her cheek. “There is luminescence in you. One that belies death.”
    She smiled. Suriel was good-looking—hot even—but her desire ran elsewhere. What she wouldn’t give to hear a certain Shadow Wraith tell her she was luminescent. But then, a dying chick could hardly be a turn-on. Besides, even if Keir shared her desire, she probably wouldn’t be able to let him close. She’d panic and shut down. Despite her hunger for him, she wouldn’t be able to allow him to touch her.
    Gripping the silk coverlet, Rowan strived to keep her tears from falling. She didn’t want to die, but her tumor was inoperable. There was nothing to be done for her in the mortal realm, and now there was nothing in Annwyn that could help her, either. So many nights she had feared what the end would be like. Would it bring horrible pain? Would she scream from it? Or would it be swift and painless?
    “Swift,” Suriel whispered. “I promise.”
    “Thank you,” she replied softly.
    “Everything happens for a reason, Rowan. Do you believe that?”
    Rowan looked into Suriel’s deep, dark eyes and instantly felt a calming peace. Her head no longer hurt, but she was beginning to tire. The restlessness and anxiety that had consumed her only moments before were gone, leaving only exhaustion.
    “Rowan,” he asked again, “do you believe?”
    “I don’t know. I guess.”
    He pinned her with a gaze she could no longer interpret. “Do you believe you are part of God’s