“I say this with love, Sam…but kindly, fuck off,” I bite acerbically, as my legs wobble beneath me. Now that I’m standing, it isn’t only my head that spins, but the entire room.
My stomach bottoms out, and I let out a furious snarl of frustration as my ribbons slip from my grasp and sprawl to the floor in an ungraceful heap.
Sam jumps to his feet but makes no move to steady me. Which is wise, as I wear no shirt or gloves to protect him from my death. Still, his face is tight with worry, as he watches me teeter. With one last growl of determination, I manage to take a few steps forward without tumbling face-first into the floor.
Pain sparks in my lower spine, snaking down my legs, each step feeling like a nail being driven into my heel. My ribbons trail behind me in twisting onyx slashes, Sam following in their wake as I hobble through my study and out into the corridor.
It’s been three days since I was dragged from the edge of endless nothingness. There had been no light, no pleasure, but also, no pain. I’ve yet to adjust once more to its brutal touch: theway it steals my breath, and saps my strength until I’m nothing more than sharp edges held together by weak skin.
“She’s on the fifth-floor balcony, sir,” Sam says from behind me, as I veer around a corner.
Willa could be in another fucking realm, and it wouldn’t matter. The urge to get to her drives every other thought from my mind. The need to hold her in my arms, to reassure myself she hasn’t ruined herself for me, is a physical, aching thing.
I half-trip, half-slide down the stairs. My breath saws in my lungs as I reach the fifth-floor landing, and then abandons me entirely when I see Willa framed between the open glass doors. Her back is to me, her caramel hair tied into a loose knot at the base of her neck, errant strands of gold and champagne and ash, blowing wildly around her head as she studies the blank canvas set before her.
Her dress is a deep crimson, ornate lace in the same fashion as the Lunaedon turrets encasing her arms and dipping low on her back. She wiggles her bare toes against the chair, and with her skin shimmering in the starlight, the kingdom spread out before her, she appears entirely at ease. Athome.
I pause in the doorway, thanking the star above for the small moment—thankingWilla.For the chance to drink her in one last time; the chance to revel in her beauty and power.
“Niko…” Sam tries, his voice ripe with warning. But I’m already bursting unceremoniously onto the expansive balcony.
Willa spins with a small gasp of surprise, her eyes flaring wide. Her lush mouth parts, as I snake my arms around her waist and press her to my chest. My throat tightens, and tears spring to my eyes, hot and sudden, at the divine feel of her. She’s so warm and luscious andalive—everything I’ve never been; everything I thought I could never have.
And now, because of her ruthless heart, the perfect mirror to my own, I have centuries to get down on my knees and thankher for the gift. Her fight, her determination, her covetous heart—they’ve given us an eternity that doesn’t only live in our hearts and dreams, but in the physical planes of existence.
My death spirals around us as I kiss her, wrapping us in a cocoon of darkness—of soft relief and dangerous ends—and I think my heart will leap from my chest in response to the delicious noise Willa makes. I glide my tongue along the seam of her lips, begging her to open; to let me inside and keep me there.
Her fingers dig into my shoulders viciously and her mouth parts, drawing me into the warmth of her. She feels so decadently vibrant,so beautifully whole, that the last of my unease drifts away into the night.
I revel in the sting of her nails, in the strength with which she fights to get closer: tostaycloser. She tastes of sweet mint. Of hope and of tears, both hers and mine. I don’t remember when I allowed them to fall, but I groan into her mouth at the pure, dizzying relief of them.
I’d given myself entirely to Willa before my death, but I’d only been a fraction of a man: jagged, broken pieces left behind by a lifetime of scraping. But now—now I am whole, and I lay everything I am at her feet.
I grip her face gently between my fingers, pulling back to take in her tear-stained cheeks and the shine of her hazel eyes, a riot of golds and greens. “You are more than a dream…more than my most wild imaginings.”
My hands run restlessly over her skin, drinking in the sumptuous feel of her; the way her small curves yield so perfectly against the hard planes of my chest. “Beautiful. Powerful. Cunning. I never thought I’d be so lucky to witness everything you’d become.”
More tears well, and I don’t bother to wipe them away. They are proof of our pain, of our sacrifice. “Willa, I lo—”
“Don’t.”The word is a furious exhale of breath.
My body goes deathly cold, as I watch the steel wall shutter over Willa’s eyes. The same one she’d worn when we first met—that shields every emotion beneath a deadened mask of fury.
Willa tears herself from my arms, wiping furiously at her eyes and cheeks. Clearing away the tears, just as she’s cleared away her feelings.
Her next words are pulled so tight, they’re barely audible.
“Did you know.”
Not a question, but a dangerous demand. Willa wraps her arms around her chest, like if she squeezes tight enough, she can keep everything from pouring out.
I go preternaturally still. “Did I know what, Darling?” I ask softly.
Her throat works with a tight swallow, and a long moment passes before she says a low voice, “Did you know that anchoring myself to the island meant your death.”
Again, she doesn’t phrase it as a question, the words lashing through the space between us like a whip. The air pulls tight, fraught and electric, like the most miniscule movement will fracture the tether between us, and send the moment careening wildly out of control.
I run my tongue along my bottom lip, curling my ribbons around my wrists. They thrash against my hold as if sensing the delicate precipice we balance on. Their desperation is a mirror to my own—desperation to tie her to us; bind her with me until the danger passes.
