When I opened my eyes, we were somewhere else entirely.
Darius and I landed in a cave, and my breath caught.
Weapons lined every wall—swords, daggers, axes, maces, bows, spears—more than I could count, more than I could name. Some gleamed like they’d been forged yesterday. Others looked ancient, their hilts wrapped in cracked leather, their blades etched with symbols I didn’t recognize. The air smelled of iron and dust and something older. Something waiting.
No guns, though. Bullets were useless against certain supernaturals like vampires.
Darius lowered himself onto a rock, and I didn’t miss the way his hand trembled, the way he exhaled like even that small movement cost him. He was pushing too hard.
And it was my fault.
“Hold out your hand.” He motioned toward the weapons. “Listen for yours to speak to you.”
I stared at him. “Speak to me?”
He nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite his exhaustion. “Listen for the words ‘find me.’”
My breath caught. The same words that had pulled me through the mirror. The same voice that had called me here—to him.
“Seriously?” I looked at the hundreds of weapons surrounding us. “What is it about those words?”
“It’s about you finding yourself. The weapon that calls to you reflects who you are. Who you’re becoming.”
Something in my chest tightened.
“Have you found yourself?” The question slipped out before I could stop it.
Darius’ smile faded. He looked down at his hands—hands that had held me, protected me, fought for me. “No.” His voice was quieter now. Rougher. “But I’m remembering more ever since I met you.”
The words hung between us, fragile and heavy all at once.
I wanted to ask what he meant. What he was remembering. But the look on his face—the vulnerability he so rarely let show—made me hesitate. Whatever he was finding, it wasn’t easy.
“Maybe we’ll figure it out together,” I said softly.
He looked up at me, and something shifted in his eyes. “Maybe we will.”
He clasped my hand and drew me closer. I went willingly, my heart pounding as he pulled me down to him. His lips brushed over mine—gentle at first, questioning. Like he was giving me the chance to pull away.
I didn’t.
I dragged my fingers through his hair, and he made a sound low in his throat that sent heat flooding through me. The kiss deepened, his hand sliding to the small of my back, pressing me closer until I could feel his heartbeat against mine.
This kiss was different. Not desperate. Not interrupted. No battle waiting. No soldiers. No harpies. Just us.
Just us.
And I wanted more. More of him. More of this feeling—like I was falling and flying all at once.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Darius
I couldn’t stop. Every taste of her demanded more. Her lips, her breath, the soft sounds she made when I pulled her closer—all of it unraveled something in me I’d kept locked away for longer than I could remember.
Kissing wasn’t enough. Not anymore.
My hands slid down her back, memorizing the curve of her spine, the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric. She arched into me, her fingers tightening in my hair, and a growl rumbled in my chest. The demon in me stirred—hungry, possessive, aching.
