Damn it.
I need to talk to Rowan.
Chapter 10
ROWAN
Being outside, in a spot that once brought my mother comfort, is surreal. Calming in a way I don’t expect. Maybe a little traumatizing, too. Like standing in someone else’s memories and trying to breathe without inhaling all their ghosts.
It reminds me of the loss all over again, but even though she ran from this place, somehow being where I know she was, where she grew up and fell in love, it softens the grief. I know this isn’t what she wanted for me, but knowing this part of her life isn’t something I can regret.
Well, outside of becoming the doom and gloom of this world. That part could kick rocks anytime now.
By the time Liz and I make our way back up the long, winding driveway to NightShade, there’s a new sense of belonging settling low in my chest. Like the land itself is wrapping invisible fingers around me and saying,you belong here.
Maybe if we can move past the nightmare episodes, this place won’t be so bad.
Mom may have run from here like it was on fire and she’d just soaked herself in gasoline, but whatever her reasons were, they don’t have to be mine. It doesn’t lessen how much I love her or appreciate everything she tried to do for me, but it didn’t work and I’m not her.
I’m not just a Hollowborn, heir to NightShade, with a lifetime of expectations stacked on my back like bricks. Sure, Psycho Granny might still expect me to take over, but I see a different possibility in Liz’s eyes. I hear it in the way she spoke about the Ashmark prophecy—as if my being here changes the story.
“I know exactly where there’s a book with the precise prophecy wording in it,” Liz says, her voice carrying both excitement and the kind of sly satisfaction that makes me only slightly suspicious. “Maybe since you’re ‘it’, the twisty words will make more sense to you than they do to the rest of us basic supernaturals.”
Before I can respond, movement draws my attention upward. A dark figure steps onto the roofline, framed against the gold-tinged sky. My heart stutters, then speeds up until I can hear the pulse in my ears. My skin warms like I’ve just been shoved in front of a roaring fire.
Cade.
“What is he doing up…”
My words trail off as he leaps.
I open my mouth to scream, because apparently my brain has decided to assumethis idiot is about to die, but gravity bends for him in a way it doesn’t for normal people.One heartbeat he’s a brooding statue on the roof. The next, he’s airborne, boots hitting the driveway with enough force to send faint cracks spider webbing through the asphalt.
The shockwave ripples through my legs, my stomach, and… Okay, other places I’m not going to acknowledge.
It’s not fair how easily he makes a thirty-foot drop look like a casual step off the curb. Or how, when he straightens and lifts his gaze, those piercing eyes of his pin me in place. And then there’s his voice. Rough, low, and dangerous in a way that makes my skin feel too tight when he says, “Can we talk? Alone.”
The words are almost a challenge, but it’s the unflinching way he looks at me that sends heat crawling up my neck and down my spine until it pools much lower.
I glance at Liz, silently begging her to throw herself in front of me with a good excuse. Instead, she shrugs, all nonchalance, and smirks like she’s just handed me the greatest gift known to man.
“Fine,” I say, squaring my shoulders even though my pulse is hammering. “But maybe try not to kill anyone while we’re together.”
Iris might have come back to life, and he was right that I’m not even sure how much I really like her, but still. Watching him break her neckthateasily was unsettling. Like, one wrong sarcastic comment from me and I might be next.
His only response is a low, gravelly grumble. No promises, no reassurances. Still, I follow him, because apparently, self-preservation isn’t my strongest quality today.
He cuts across the front lawn, his long strides eating up the space until we pass the manor’s east wing. The stone walls give way to a tangle of hedges and wild rose bushes, their blooms fighting for dominance over the last scraps of summer.
The air smells like damp earth and late-blooming lilies, a little too sweet for my current mood. Rock pathways snake through the greenery, leading us toward a fountain in the center. Water spills over four carved tiers, the steady trickle soothing in a way that feels at odds with Cade’s barely restrained intensity.
We sit on a bench, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from him, but also with a carefully placed six inches of “don’t touch me” space between us. I expect his silence to grate on me, but instead, it’s oddly comfortable.
Communing with nature just now really did a number on me.
Maybe feeling so at ease here isn’t the best idea yet.
My eyes cast quick glances his way, never allowing myself to linger long. Though, his attention seems to be fixed on the fountain ahead of us, even as he speaks.
