“I thought that place was condemned.”
“It was. Maybe someone bought it to fix it up.” I stare in the direction the truck has gone. And just like that, all the emotions of the day come rushing in at once. I choke on a sob, falling to my kneeson the cold dirt. “It isn't real,” I cry. “Oh my God, she waited for him, and it isn't real. Nothing is real!”
Maeve places a hand on my shoulder, but I can't take comfort in it. All the magic has been drained from the world, and every bit of relief I've taken from religion, platitudes, and my grandmother's personal beliefs has been stripped away, replaced with only one reality. She is gone, forever. A body in a cold box in the ground. I am alone. So alone, even with Maeve right beside me. The last Harcourt.
My grief is a living, voracious worm, eating my innards one bite at a time. All I can feel is pain and the emptiness it leaves in its wake.
Warm arms wrap around me —long enough it feels as though they could circle me twice, and I’m hauled against a broad chest that’s definitely not Maeve's.
“No one called you, Advocate,” Maeve hisses. “Why are you here?”
“Currently, it appears I'm saving a grieving granddaughter from hypothermia. Why are you here, Maeve? To watch her catch pneumonia?”
“You came back.” I sob, nestling into his chest. He lifts me as if I weigh nothing and strides toward the house with me cradled like a child in his arms.
“I'm taking you inside.” Warmth from his body permeates my own, and I can hear his strange heartbeat, a steady thump-thump against my cheek. The smell of him eases me. I release a sigh.
“Thank you,” I say softly. For coming back. For carrying me. For keeping me safe. I don't say those things out loud, but he must understand because he presses a kiss to my temple. I allow myself to drift to sleep, the trails of my tears drying on my face.
DAMIEN
Eloise feels far too vulnerable in my arms. Far too delicate. I need to warm her. Feed her. Guard her. I should have never left her side.
“Advocate, I’m speaking to you!” Maeve snaps from behind me. At least she’s attempting to keep her voice down. Fuck, I don’t need a Gowdie witch riding my ass at the moment. Not when I need to care for mymate.
I grit my teeth at the word. Despite my best efforts, I’ve bound myself to this little dragon, already thinking of her as mine. I want to deny it. But here I am. With no candle to blame, I felt her torment through the darkness and hastened to her side. I am free. I could leave. But I am here solely because I want to be. Solely because I love this tiny force of a woman in my arms and can’t bear to leave her in her grief.
Which means I am already hers.
Once we’re inside the foyer of Harcourt Manor, I cast daggers at Maeve over my shoulder. “Later. Let me put her to bed. She’s not well.”
The witch winces as if the thought disgusts her but nods once. “Fine. I’ll be in the kitchen. Come talk to me when you’ve…put her to bed.”
Taking the stairs two at a time, I carry Eloise to her bedroom, then carefully set her on her feet. She yawns and rubs her eyes. “I think I fell asleep.”
“You passed out. Have you eaten anything today? You’re shivering.” I shuffle her into the bathroom and start the water.
“No, but I’m not hungry. Damien, my Grams, she’s...” Her voice cracks.
“I know.” I start undressing her, slipping her dark wool coat off her shoulders.
“What are you doing?”
“You’re freezing. You need to warm up. A shower will help.” The black dress she wears hangs on her like a sack and makes her skin look sallow. She’s lost weight these last few weeks. She isn’t eating enough.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re two seconds away from carting me off to the emergency room.”
I stroke her hair back, studying the graceful lines and angles of her face. “I owe you my freedom. The least I can do is look out for you on the day you lose your grandmother. Let me take care of you, Eloise. Do it my way, just this once.”
A tear slips from the corner of her eye, and I wipe it away. “You know I can’t say no to you when you use my actual name.” The corner of her mouth turns up, and my heart swells. Does she realize the power she has over me?
“Do you want me to help you?” I jerk my head toward the shower.
Her eyes grow heated. “Sure.”
