“You’re here,” he repeated, the words half-question, half-prayer.
“I’m here. All in one piece. Not a scratch on me.”
His hands released my wrists and went to my shoulders, my arms, my waist, every part he could reach, reassuring himself. His breathing was still too fast, too shallow. I shifted, wrapping my arms around him and pulling his head to my chest, cradling him like a child.
“Listen to my heartbeat, Simmy. Focus on that. Steady and strong, beating for you.”
For a long moment, we stayed that way, his ear pressed to my heart, my fingers threading through his tangled hair, his arms anchored around my waist. Gradually, his breathing began slow, deepening, becoming less desperate.
“That’s it. Come back to me.”
A shudder ran through him, different from before. Less fearful, more like a man surfacing from deep water.
“Serafina,” he breathed, and this time my name wasn’t a question but a recognition. “Sorry. I just— I need—”
“I know what you need.” I kissed the top of his head. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
As he relaxed, he leaned against me more and more until he was too heavy for me to support, and I shifted us until we were lying down, his head still pillowed on my chest, our arms still around each other.
“It felt so real,” he said after a long silence. “Every detail. The sound you made when—” His voice caught. “I couldn’t get to you. I was frozen. Just watching.”
“You got caught in her illusion web. Koko and Zoodle captured and contained her. I stayed in the SUV with Brummy the whole time until Koko came and got me.”
“They caught her.”
“Yes.”
“And nobody got hurt.”
“Well, Zoodle’s brain got a bit crispy around the edges, but we’re all okay.”
Casimir was quiet for a moment, then, “How’s Zanereally?”
“Irritatingly fine. He complained that I wouldn’t let him have beer and wings for breakfast.”
“Sounds right.” A ghost of a smile touched his lips.
“How do you feel physically?” I stroked his hair back from his forehead, noting with relief that his skin felt cooler. The fever had broken sometime during the night. “Any pain?”
He took inventory for a moment.
“Muscles are sore. Like I’ve been running for days. Thirsty.”
“Mrs. Wentzel made you breakfast, and I brought it up here.”
He nodded, but didn’t move. Instead, his arms tightened around me.
“In a minute. Just stay like this a little longer?”
“As long as you need,” I promised.
We lay there in the quiet, the room filled only with the sound of our breathing gradually synchronizing and the soft rustle of fabric as his thumb traced absent patterns against my hip.
“Fighting monsters, facing down threats, that’s just adrenaline,” he said eventually, his voice steadier now, “But seeing you like that? That wasrealfear. The kind that hollowed me out from the inside.”
“I know the feeling. When you collapsed, when your fever spiked, I was terrified I might lose you.”
“You’re real.” His hand came up to cup my cheek, his touch reverent. “This is real.”
