Mists of Velvet

interpreted—discovered.”
    “And which is you?” she asked, her voice suddenly hoarse. He passed her the card and watched her face.
    Death.
    The card dropped from her fingers, landing faceup on the carpet.
    “It is not what you think. This is the card of rebirth, a time of change. A time for something to end, but also for something to begin. It is the phoenix rising from the ashes. Death is not the end; it is only the precursor to resurrection. It’s a powerful card.”
    She stood up, needing to control her thoughts, but he reached for her and stroked her arm.
    “I’ve frightened you. I’m sorry. Many consider the tarot an invitation to evil. But much can be learned from the cards. I do not use the cards for the Dark Arts, but to shine light in the darkness.”
    Rowan slowly looked at him. It was now or never. Her time was drawing to an end, and she needed some answers. “Is that why you isolate yourself, why you come here to this black room?”
    She heard his breath catch and saw him turn away from her, his face a beautiful mask concealing his thoughts and feelings. “I don’t isolate myself.”
    “It’s only you and Rhys. And when you’re not with him, you’re alone.”
    He glanced at her over his shoulder, his eyes dark and stormy. “Have you ever noticed how a house can be full and bursting with life, yet one can feel utterly alone in it?”
    “Yes.” She had felt that way, too, especially now, staying with Bran and Mairi. People surrounded her, people who cared for her; yet she felt utterly alone.
    “You and I are very much alike. Few people, I think, would even acknowledge such a thing.”
    Rowan nodded and glanced about the room. “Perhaps that is what draws us to each other. We are alike.”
    His eyes turned violet, and his voice dropped to a bone-melting purr. “Is that the only thing that draws us to each other?”
    Her stomach did a little flip, and a million butterflies were suddenly set loose inside her. She couldn’t answer his question. It was too personal. It was too risky to tell him the truth. Instead, she let her gaze wander around the room as she thought of an answer.
    On a table beside the bed, a square of shiny black satin lay beside a candle. On the fabric was a lock of blond hair. Crumpled beside it was a piece of paper.
    Keir suddenly stood in front of her, blocking her view. “What is that?” she asked.
    “Nothing.”
    “Keir—”
    “Nothing that concerns you, then.”
    Rowan felt her heart crumble to dust. Did Keir have a lover? Was it Bronwnn? The blond hair was light enough. Oh, God, was Keir with her . . . sister? It was possible. Rhys and Keir shared things—all things—or so Sayer had told her. Maybe they were sharing her.
    And why wouldn’t they? Bronwnn was gorgeous—and thin, which was something Rowan was not. Figured. She would discover she had a sister, and that she was the ugly one, all in the matter of an evening.
    “What brings you to me tonight?”
    It was a question, but his words and the huskiness of his voice made it sound downright seductive.
    “I—I don’t know.” She glanced away, unable to meet his gaze. “I suppose I needed someone to talk to. And Mairi . . . Well, ah . . .”
    “She is with her mate,” he supplied. Taking her glass, he set it behind him on the table. “What is it you wish to talk about?”
    He advanced upon her, and she backed up. He followed her, not allowing her any space.
    “I . . . ah . . .” She tried to think of something to say, anything but the truth, but it flew out of her mouth before she could stop it. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
    His eyes grew darker and his chest broader as he continued to swallow up the space between them.
    “Tell me these thoughts.”
    “Tonight,” she whispered, licking her lips nervously. “Bronwnn. What I am.”
    “No. The other thoughts. Of me. Of you.”
    Of course, she had thought of them together. But now she wished she hadn’t, because she didn’t know how to go on. She wanted him. But she needed him to make the first move.
    “Tell me,” he demanded, his voice darker, more commanding. “Let me into your thoughts. You thought of us together, didn’t you?”
    “A journey,” she blurted out. “You know, to learn more about me. What I am? Don’t you want to learn more about me?”
    He was forcing her back, and she wet her lips once more, her body responding to the aggression she felt pouring off him. “Yes, I want to learn more.”
    She