The pull starts at my core—that sick lurch of between-space travel. Trees warp. Colors bleed. Sound dies.
My arm locks tighter around her.
“Hold on,” I growl against her temple.
The world dissolves.
Chapter 20
Nova
Reality slams back with a brutal snap.
My stomach heaves. Ground materializes under us, and Dane absorbs the impact—boots digging into earth, body braced around mine. The slip coin shatters somewhere above, silver fragments scattering.
I can’t focus. Trees blur. My limbs won’t respond. Magic surges under my skin in uneven pulses, still trying to stabilize after being ripped between worlds.
“Nova.” A voice cuts through the fog—not Dane’s. Lighter. Female.
I turn my head, too slow, like moving underwater. Lyanna stands a few feet away, her hands already glowing with healingenergy. Her face sharpens into focus, then blurs again. Her eyes widen as she takes in whatever state we’re in.
“Put her down,” she says, not to me. “I need to check—“
“No.” Dane’s chest vibrates against mine with the word. One syllable, granite-hard.
I realize he’s still holding me. His arms haven’t loosened once.
Lyanna steps closer. “Dane, she’s—“
“She’s coming with me.” His voice allows no argument, no debate.
My fingers curl reflexively into his shirt. I can feel his heart hammering beneath my palm—too fast, too hard. Yet his voice remained steady, emotionless.
Heavy footsteps approach from my left. Rafe. His energy hits me before his scent does—contained power, sharp attention. He doesn’t look at me at all. His eyes lock on Dane, assessing.
“Whatever line you crossed in there—it followed you home,” Rafe says, the words quiet enough that only the four of us can hear.
Dane doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even acknowledge him.
I lift my head, expecting to meet Dane’s gaze. But his eyes never drop to mine. Not once. He’s scanning the compound, the treeline, the lodge. Tracking movement, assessing threats, calculating angles.
Blood drips steadily from the gash on his arm, but he doesn’t seem to notice. His jaw is rigid, muscles locked tight.
“The infirmary is ready,” Lyanna tries again, her tone gentle but firm. “At least let me—“
“No.” Dane shifts his weight, adjusting his grip on me. “You can work on her in my cabin.”
Rafe’s expression remains unreadable, but something flickers in his eyes. He steps back, giving Dane space.
This isn’t about comfort or control. This isn’t even about me. It’s something deeper, more primal. Pure survival instinct locked into a single directive.
I feel it in the tension of his arms around me, the way his fingers press just a fraction too tight against my ribs. In the rigid line of his shoulders that refuse to relax. His heartbeat pounds against my palm where it rests on his chest, too fast for someone trying to appear calm.
As Dane starts walking toward his quarters, I finally understand: He’s not holding me because I can’t walk.
He’s holding me because he can’t let go.
The ground shifts under us as Dane carries me toward his cabin. The world tilts and steadies. My magic pulses erratically, sparking like torn wires under my skin.
