Page 128 of Wraithwound

“It seems Runa knows a lot about the Goddess,” he said.

Runa seemed pleased with that. Lena attempted to ease the barrier between her and Runa but was hit with a strong tug on her control. She froze, screwing her eyes shut and clenching her fists.

“What’s wrong?”

But Lena couldn’t answer, not for a long moment. When she was sure Runa had been sealed in, she released Cross’s hand, realizing she’d been crushing it.

“I’m sorry, I thought I’d ask Runa about it. She seemed pleased at your last comment, and I thought . . .” Lena’s voice trailed off as she reworked the barrier in her mind.

Cross nodded once, waiting until she could move again. “I know you came here to free the Goddess because you felt like you didn’t have much time left, but now that you’ve managed to control it, built up your mental walls⁠—”

Lena shook her head, despite knowing Cross couldn’t see her, a sad smile on her lips.

“I can’t live this way. With her inside me. It takes so much effort, so much energy. It's unsustainable. I won’t wake up in the middle of the night, only to learn that I’ve killed someone else I care about. Not again. Never again.”

Lena didn’t mention the one detail she feared to be true. There might be something about this realm that allowed her greater control over Runa, but she feared that once she left this place, Runa would have much less trouble wresting control from her.

Cross pulled on her hand, nearly making her lose her balance. “There has to be a way.”

“I can’t guarantee that I won’t hurt someone else. That she won’t hurt someone else,” she said.

“Alina, what are you saying?” This time when he said her name it stung. There was intimacy in the way he’d said it, vulnerability and hurt.

“I’m saying I don’t know what’s going to happen once we enter the tower,” Lena said.

And she was talking about the Goddess, yes, but also about Cross. She hadn’t taken his warning lightly. There was something he couldn’t tell her, but the wraith had somehow figured out. And it was clearly something Runa felt she could use as leverage. He seemed to grasp her meaning anyway.

“Hope to live, Alina. Hope to find a way. When we get inside, head for the bottle. If there are dangers to face, I will focus my energy there. Use your head, but most of all, be careful,” he said.

“I will,” she said. Then, wondering how he might fair in a fight if he couldn’t see, she added, “You too.”

Chapter

Seventy-Two

They climbed for the next several hours, which seemed to drip by. Lena described the mountainous terrain to Cross, and they took turns feeling for each other’s hands among loose stones and sand to ensure proper hand and foot placements. Cross had gone quiet, retreating into skill and strategy, while Lena’s thoughts drifted from her mother to Henry to Jessa to her grandfather and Wyn.

Sore and exhausted, they finally approached the summit. The tower stood ominously stretching into the darkness like a needle waiting to pierce flesh. Initially, she thought the tower was white, but when she peered at it again, it seemed to be made of onyx. There were no windows or openings on the face of the slim structure.

The stench of sulfur wafted past on a weak breeze as if the air itself struggled to move here. She helped Cross reach the flat slab that made up the path toward the tower. Cross blinked once and then twice.

“I can see,” he said, turning to look for her.

Lena pulled herself onto the slab beside him. The desolate backdrop did nothing to dampen his exquisiteness. She straightened, somewhat taken aback by the emotion in his expression. He took her face in his hands, and they stared at each other for a long moment. The stale air seemed to come alive around them. Cross looked down at her lips, his gaze lingering there, and her breath caught in her throat as he moved closer.

And then his soft, full lips met hers.

Every cell of her body stilled and then erupted with an emotion so foreign and yet so beautiful she thought she might laugh or cry. She felt him everywhere, in every dark nook and cranny of her soul, in her fear, her doubt, her regrets, in every painful moment she’d ever experienced, and then those filled with joy too. She felt simultaneously weightless and rooted to the ground.

When he released her, she was gasping for breath. Gasping for more. They both were. When he finally opened his eyes and lifted his forehead from hers, she realized the golden flecks in his gaze had come alive.

Cross smiled then, a smile so bright, so genuine and lovely, that she couldn’t help but smile too.

“Your eyes are glowing,” he whispered.

“I think yours are too,” she whispered back.

“I wouldn’t doubt it. Not after that,” he said.