TomorrowI’llend this.I’lldo the spell, go back in time, and forget everything.
No matter how much it hurts.
64
THERON
I don’t sleep—not even close.
I lie there in the narrow bed withElowentucked against me, my arm wrapped around her likeIcan keep her with me ifIjust hold on tight enough.
But she’s already slipping away—Ican feel it.
Not physically, of course—she’s right here, warm and soft and heartbreakingly real in my arms—but something inside her is pulling away…curling inward…closing off.
AndIknow exactly why—it’s because of me.Becauseof whatIsaid.Andmost of all, because of whatIdidn’tsay.
Her breathing isn’t steady—it’s not the slow, even rhythm of sleep.Itcatches now and then, hitching faintly, like she’s trying to keep quiet…trying not to wake me and let me know she’s crying.
My chest tightens until it almost hurts to breathe.
Fuck.HowcouldIfuck up our last night together so badly?Ihad thought, whenIrented the room, that we might be together one more time.Iwanted to feel her under me—wanted to look into her eyes whileIfilled her.Ione last perfect memory with her before she does that fucking spell andIlose everythingIknow about her forever.
But when we got up here,Ijust couldn’t do it.AllIwanted was to hold her—allIcould think about was thatI’mabout to lose her forever.
I close my eyes, but it doesn’t help.Itonly makes everything sharper—the feel of her…the scent of her…the quiet, broken sounds she makes when she thinksIwon’t hear.
I hear it anyway—of courseIdo.Andthanks to the partialBondwe formed at the demon’s mansion,Ican feel her now, too.Notjust her body, but her emotions.Thebond between us—thin and incomplete as it is—lets it all bleed through.Herpain wraps around me, sharp and aching, laced with something worse—rejection.
She thinksIrejected her, and she doesn’t know why.
“Gods…”Iwhisper under my breath, the word barely more than a breath against her hair.
MyDrakestirs immediately.
“She hurts,”he rumbles mournfully.“Ourwoman is hurting.”
I know,Isend back silently.Ican feel it.
“Fix it,” he insists.“Takeher.Bondher.Makeher ours.”
My jaw tightens.
You don’t understand—Ican’t do that.Wecan’t do that.
“I understand perfectly,” he snaps back.“Sheis ours.Sheneeds us.Youfeel it.Ifeel it.”
I do—that’s the problem.Herneed is still there, low and constant, simmering beneath the hurt.Ittwists through me, pulling at my control, whispering all the thingsIwant—everythingIshouldn’t take.
I want to roll her onto her back and press her into the mattress and kiss her until she forgets everything else.Iwant to sink into her again—to feel that heat and tightness and sweetness that nearly drove me out of my mind before.Iwant to hear her say my name like she did earlier, soft and breathless and trusting.
I want so much thatIcan’t have.BecauseIknow she couldn’t take myDrake—she’d be horrified at the thought of him mounting her…breeding her.Shewas reluctant to even rub against him—there’s no way she could get through a fullBondingwith both of us.
Besides, she’s leaving.
Tomorrow, she’ll go to theKing’sCourt, work theTimeWeavingspell and go back to a time beforeIever knew her…beforeIever touched her.
BeforeIeverlovedher.
