Killian turned out of the alley to see two young men, each holding a stein. They both peered at the ground, a glassy look in their eyes.
“I don’t understand what happened,” the second man said. “The vines—they just—how can a plant attack a family like that?”
Killian hadn’t been paying them much attention, but at that, he jolted to a stop. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. “What did you say?” he asked them point blank.
Both men gave Killian a bewildered look, like they hadn’t noticed his presence until then. Even in the darkness, Killian could see the despondence in their faces.
“There w-was this house,” the second one stammered. “And these vines…” He glanced sideways at his friend, hesitant to go on.
“Tell me,” Killian insisted.
The man met Killian’s gaze. Dark circles lined his eyes, and he had a sullen appearance that was more than a physical exhaustion.
The first man shook his head. “I don’t know how to explain it. The vines… They crawled from the ground. They wrapped the entire house, broke through the windows. My employers were inside but—”
He trailed off, unable to finish. Killian could discern the rest. His employers hadn’t made it out alive.
“I’m sorry,” Killian stated. He didn’t know how to express it, but he felt his condolences deep in his stomach. He knew too well the pain of helplessness that was written on their faces.
The men looked down at their feet as grief continued to eat at them.
“Where was this?” Killian asked, taking a step toward them as if his feet were as eager as his soul to find out more.
“Vincennes,” one of the men answered.
Killian’s stomach lurched. “Vincennes?” he repeated. “But that’s in Evaria.”
The two men nodded.
Killian took a step back as he let the information settle in. Evaria was a small kingdom to the north of Rhodan. Vincennes wasn’t far from the Rhodan border, but it was still in another kingdom.
Which meant Lazarus was no longer a domestic problem, but a continental one.
If Killian hadn’t been so enamored by the stranger’s tale, he might have noticed a figure lurking across the street, their hood casting a shadow on their face as they watched him with unwavering interest.
7
Killian
Wake up.”
Soft lips grazed Killian’s cheek. His eyes were closed, but he nuzzled into the feeling. He knew those lips.
“Wake up,” came the murmur against his skin.
He opened his eyes to see Elyse laying beside him, smiling at him. Sunlight streamed in through the window, setting her silvery hair alight. Her chemise had slipped off her shoulder, and Killian reached out a hand to touch her. His fingertip grazed her skin with gentle control, like he was afraid touching her might scare her off. That she might disappear with a snap of her fingers if he moved too fast or said the wrong thing. And if that happened…
Killian didn’t know if he would survive letting her go again.
“I’ve missed you.” Her words were a song, lilting through the tranquil morning. She moved his hand from her shoulder to her cheek. She was warm, so warm as she nestled her face into his palm.
“You have no idea,” he breathed. He must have looked ridiculous, staring at her, eyes wide, mouth agape. He ran his hand into her hair, down her neck, needing to feel as much of her as he could.
“I think I have some idea,” she purred. She leaned closer to him and planted a kiss on his lips. It was heaven—was that what this was? Had he been murdered in his sleep and awoken in the afterlife?
Elyse began to climb atop him. Her leg slid across his abdomen until she was straddling him, her weight pressing down on his hips. Without a thought, Killian lifted the edges of her chemise, higher and higher up her thighs, until his thumbs met her hips and she was fully exposed. He took a long, hungry look at her—
“Wake up.”
