Tender. Unhurried. The press of my lips against hers in the darkness, tasting salt and certainty and something I’ve been afraid to name for too long.
“I love you.” The words escape me before I can stop them. “I don’t know how it happened. I don’t know what it means. But I love you, Aviora Larsa. Whatever comes, whatever the hunger demands—that won’t change.”
Her breath catches. For a moment, I think I’ve said too much. Pushed too far. But then her palm presses against my chest, right over my heart, and she’s kissing me back—soft at first, then deeper, until we’re both breathless.
“I love you too.” The words tremble against my lips. “Even though it terrifies me. Even though I don’t know if I deserve it. I love you, and I’m not running from that anymore.”
We hold each other while the waves crash against the rocks and the stars wheel overhead. The hunger waits in the deep. It’ll bring battles we can’t predict.
But right now, there’s only this.
This woman in my arms. These words we’ve finally spoken. This love that might save us or destroy us, but exists either way.
And when she pulls back to look at me, her eyes holding mine with fierce certainty, I know—I know—that whatever she’s planning, it’s not what anyone expects.
THIRTY-FOUR
AVIORA
Dawn breaks over Dreadhaven.
I stand at the harbor quay, watching the Wrecktide churn with light that shouldn’t exist. The pulsing has intensified overnight—hungrier, more insistent, reaching toward the shore with phosphorescent tendrils that retreat only when the waves break against stone. The ancient want knows I’m coming. It’s been waiting.
Zoric’s warmth presses against my back, his arms wrapped around me from behind. He hasn’t let go since we descended from the wall walk. Hasn’t stopped touching me—my shoulders, my hands, my face. As if physical contact can anchor me to this moment, can keep me from slipping into whatever waits in the deep.
“You don’t have to do this.” His voice is heavy against my ear. Raw from a night of arguments he lost. “There has to be another way.”
“There isn’t.” I lean back into him, drawing strength from his solidity. “You spent all night looking. Thalira spent centuries. If there was another path, someone would have found it by now.”
“Then let me?—”
“No.” I turn in his arms, press my palm against his chest. Feel the heart that beats there—too fast, driven by fear he’s trying to hide. “This is mine, Zoric. My guilt. My grief. My choice to let it go.” I rise on my toes, brush my lips against his. “You can’t carry this for me. All you can do is be there when I come back up.”
His jaw tightens. I see the struggle in his storm-gray eyes—the warrior’s need to fight, to protect, to solve problems through force of will. None of that applies here. This battle is mine, and all he can do is watch.
“I’m coming with you.”
“Zoric—”
“You can argue all you want.” His arms lock around me. “I’m not letting you face that thing alone. If it takes you, it takes me too. That’s not negotiable.”
I should refuse. Should insist he stay where it’s safe, where the hunger can’t reach him, where I won’t have to worry about protecting him while I’m fighting for my own soul. But the truth is?—
I don’t want to do this alone.
“Stay close.” I grip his shirt, pull him down for a kiss that’s fiercer than I intended. “And don’t try to save me. Whatever happens down there, whatever you see—trust that I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you?”
“Not even slightly.” I manage a smile that feels more like a grimace. “But that’s never stopped me before.”
The water is colderthan I remember.
We swim out from the harbor quay, past the iron chain booms, into the open water where the Wrecktide begins itsdeadly work. The phosphorescence surrounds us immediately—not attacking, not yet. Watching. Assessing. Deciding whether we’re threat or tribute.
Zoric swims beside me, his massive frame cutting through the water with the practiced ease. His eyes never leave mine. His hand reaches out at intervals, touching my arm, my shoulder, my back. Confirmation that I’m still here. That we’re in this as one.
As one. The words carry a different meaning than they did a week ago. Terrifying and true.
