“It’s also not who you are anymore,” he added, and I pulled back my gift, realizing that closing it down had been easier since Casteel had given me his blood the second time. “It’s not who you ever were.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Did you ever accept it?” He planted a hand on the floor beside me and leaned over an inch or two. “Was there ever a point where you wanted to be what they made you?”
I had never been asked that before, and it took me some time to figure out how to answer. “There were times when I wanted to make the Queen happy—to make the Teermans pleased with me. So, I tried to be good—to be what was expected of me, but it was like…wearing a mask. I tried but the mask cracked quickly enough.”
“Forcing a warrior to don a veil of submission was never going to last.”
Feeling my cheeks warm, I looked away. “I don’t know about the warrior part—”
“I do,” he insisted. “From the moment you stayed instead of walking out of that room at the Red Pearl, I knew you had a warrior’s strength and bravery. It’s why you went to Rylan’s funeral. It’s what drove you out to the Rise when the Craven attacked and fought back—fought me. It’s why you didn’t bow under Alastir’s remarks when you first met him but rather challenged his beliefs. Hell, it’s what drove you to learn how to fight in the first place.” A dimple appeared in his right cheek. “It’s your bloodline—it’s you.”
The warmth in my chest had little to do with the fire. “I’m still a little annoyed that I’m not of the changeling line and I can’t shift forms.”
Casteel laughed, and the sound was as real and sunny as my chest felt. And when his gaze snagged on mine, I finally found the courage of the warrior he claimed I was.
And started with perhaps the most embarrassing thing ever. “I spoke with Alastir earlier.”
“He mentioned that he was going to visit with you.”
“He did, and he…he told me about the Joining.”
Casteel’s head swung toward mine so fast, I was surprised he didn’t crack his neck. “He did what?”
“Do I really need to repeat that?”
“What did he tell you?”
“He told me what it is.” I focused on my brush. “That it’s a blood exchange that often turns into something, um, more intimate.”
“Good gods, he did not.”
“He did.”
“I…” Casteel suddenly broke out into deep, thunderous laughter. The kind that was so loud and hard, it sounded like it hurt.
My wide gaze shot to him.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped. “It’s just that I would’ve paid good money to see him try to explain that to you.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Would you have?”
“Hell, yes, I would’ve. Oh, gods.” Dragging a hand through his hair, he looked over at me. “Let me guess? He said it was crude and disgusting?”
“Yeah. Pretty much.”
“Gods, what an old alarmist.” He laughed again, shoulders shaking. “I wish I could’ve seen your face.”
“Well, since I learned about it from him, I wished I could’ve punched you in your face.”
“I bet you did.”
“I don’t know what is so funny. He said people might expect it from us—especially because I’m not full-blooded Atlantian!”
“First off,” he said, struggling for breath, “I don’t think anyone is going to expect that.”
From you seemed to hang unsaid between us.
“And while it is an intimate ritual, one that isn’t often done anymore, it is not always sexual. For some, I’m sure it becomes that naturally. And hey, to each their own. They’re consenting adults, and you do you, you know? I’m not going to judge.”
“I’m not judging either.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “You’re not?”
“I’m not,” I insisted.
“So, you’re interested then?” he murmured.
“That is not where I was going with that.”
“Uh-huh.”
I ignored the way he said that. “Is it true that a mortal with Atlantian blood would be given a longer lifespan?”
Casteel nodded.
“Has that been done before?”
“I haven’t known any bonded elementals who have taken a mortal with Atlantian blood,” he answered. “As far as I know, there hasn’t been. And it’s a lot to ask of a wolven. That kind of blood bond goes both ways. If the wolven dies, so does the other, and if the mortal with Atlantian blood dies, the wolven would also.”