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me check you once more.” He gently put his fingers within her still damp hair, carefully examining her lump. “Hmm, the swelling hasn’t receded much. But the bleeding has stopped.”
    She stood still, nearly swaying. His tender touch made her almost forget the pain. Dante brushed her long hair back. Her breath hitched. He tugged slightly on her shirt sleeve, gently pulling the neck down so he could lightly kiss her bared shoulder.
    “Get some rest, Milady. I will not leave you.” His voice grew ever softer. “I have only just found you.”
    That sweet little kiss, paired with his warm breath tickling her ear as he whispered his instructions, caused a shiver to run up her spine. He noticed. She feared he would.
    They remained frozen in that time-stopping magical moment, unable to separate. Neither was willing to break the closeness or the tension between them.
    “You really do need to try and get some rest, my dear.”
    She turned slightly towards his voice just as he moved to kiss her cheek, causing his lips to barely touch the outside corner of her mouth. A tiny gasp escaped her, unintentionally. He had turned to walk away, but the thrilling little noise was enough to stop him in his tracks. He seized her arms, pulling her close against his bared chest. Their twin heartbeats drummed in her ears. She melted… they melted together.
    “Is there anything else you wish of me?” His voice was now raspy, labored with growing desire.
    She couldn’t speak. Her mind swirled with all the things she wanted to say but never would. There was a strange, almost magical pull between them. It was equal parts haunting and thrilling. It was obvious something larger than the two of them was at play here. And neither wished to deny this rare enchantment.
    “Did you cast a spell upon me?” Her words were shaky, but honest.
    Dante bent down and lightly kiss her neck, tracing the tip of his sharp nose up to her ear. “I was about to ask you the same thing, Milady. What magic do you claim? How is it you are so different from the rest?”
    His words sent an unsettling tremor through her soul, it rocked her core. “Different? Who do you compare me to?”
    “Get some rest,” he whispered again.
    He held her a moment more before giving her a quick peck on the side of her head, then left to get the other blankets.
    Jenevier felt faint. She lay down on the couch, pulling the cover up to her neck as she curled into a ball.
    She could still feel his deliciously warm breath on her ear, his soft lips tingling against her pale flesh. She was smiling as her eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

Chapter 4
    Marlise
    (marr-LEESE)
     
     
     
    Marlise Rendola was a healer. Some feared her gift and named her witch. But even those naysayers came to her by cover of night seeking her amazing herbal remedies and alluring little potions. Marlise had a cure for nearly every ailment known to man, except The Quickening.
    She kept meticulous records of exact ingredients—when to harvest them for best results, at what temperature to properly preserve them, and all the different uses she had discovered for each new concoction she developed.
    Marlise had hoped her only niece would one day follow in her footsteps, take up the family’s gift of healing. She had all but insisted Jenevier come to Tamar Broden that final summer. Now that she was here, Marlise had fervently impressed upon the girl the importance of her work. She taught her how to properly heat the base ingredients and then how to precisely measure out the remaining ones—slowly adding them, continually stirring.
    “Never let it sit. It’ll turn bitter and foul,” she warned.
    Jenevier heeded her every word, for she beheld her aunt with supreme awe and respect.
    Jenevier’s mother, Alethia, was Marlise’s baby sister. Alethia was beautiful, fair, and free spirited. She never cared much for the family gift . She simply didn’t have the patience for it. Alethia much preferred spending the days of