Page 161 of The Prince's Curse

Shouts of surprise, sharp pain in her throat as she gasped for air. Firm hands pressed to her cheeks, and she opened her eyes to see Alistair staring at her, tears pouring over his cheeks. “Mein Gott,” he blurted, all but crushing her to his chest. “I thought I would lose you. I thought I would die.”

“I’m okay,” she rasped. “I think.”

Her eyes felt like sandpaper, and her mouth tasted of ash, but she was conscious, or so it seemed. Suddenly, the memory of all those curses broken, all those strange visions, flooded back. She pushed him away and looked around suspiciously. “I want to see your eyes,” she said, holding Alistair’s face.

His dark brows arched, but he stared at her intently as she tilted his face back and forth. That lovely shade of blue-green that couldn’t quite be pinned down, just as always. Her head ached, but she let her eyes relax and shifted into her arcane sight. The room was alight with magic, most of it focused in tight spirals and sigils created by Misha’s hand. Her own frame glowed with power, bright as ever.

Scarlett stood at the foot of her bed, and she bore a deep bruise-like mark on her chest, but it was not the yawning black hole of magic that she’d been carrying.Magneto was curled in her arms, and he wriggled free as Scarlett laughed.

The cat pounced into her lap, and she snuggled him close. Just to be certain, she looked into his yellow-green eyes. No sign of cosmic sentience beyond natural understanding. Good.

She frowned and said, “How long was I out?”

“Four days,” Julian said.

She gasped. “Four days? I was— What about Armina? I need to?—”

Alistair chuckled and pressed a hand to her chest. “She’s done. It’s over. All you need to do now is rest. You were gone for so long… You wouldn’t wake.”

“But you brought me back,” she said quietly.

His eyes lifted over her shoulder. “I helped, but it was Julian. All of us helped.”

She turned to look at the older vampire, who smiled faintly. “You brought me back?”

“The Covenant binds you to me,” Julian said, taking her hand gently. When he squeezed her hand, a warm pulse ignited in the back of her neck, and she was struck with the image of rose petals on the breeze. “Did you hear my voice?”

“No, but I heard you anyway,” she said. “This is fascinating. I want to get this written down.”

At that, several of the others burst out laughing. “She’s fine,” Misha said drily. “Let’s leave these two alone.”

Chapter 38

Three Days Later

Dmitri Kovalev stood at the end of the short driveway, reminding himself that he could leave town. Without Armina’s leash around his neck, he could go wherever he wished. He could go live in a shack on a mountain until the earth turned to ash and never face the truth.

In theory, at least. The reality was that he would never sleep again until he faced her, until he knew if there was the tiniest shred of hope that she might love him still.

The small townhouse was neatly kept, with pale blue siding identical to the dozens on either side of it. A pretty wreath of white flowers hung on the door, while a familiar smell hung in the air. That smell made his heart ache, even as it stirred a pit of terrible fear in his belly.

He’d stalled as long as he could. Armina Voss was dead, and her two apprentices were presumably so much ash. There had been no further attacks, and it seemed that they could finally breathe easy. And in the twenty-first century, he was not needed for rebuilding efforts. They had contractors for that, Olivia Pierce reminded him over her new shiny fangs.

Clenching his fist, he strode down the sidewalk and onto the small porch. With his hand trembling, he gently knocked on the door.

There were quiet footfalls inside, then the gut-churning sound of hinges squeaking.

And there she stood.

Five feet and three inches of elegant perfection, blonde hair loose around her face as she gazed up at him. Time had barely touched her beauty, though her hair was longer than he remembered. Her lips curved into a faint smile. “Kova? Is it really you?”

“Milácku,” he choked out. He’d had an entire speech planned, and he could barely greet her without breaking down.

Her blue eyes ignited with recognition. “Kova!”

“Lucia, I’m sorry for everything, I just?—”

She let out a soft sob and threw her arms around him. When her chest pressed to his, her heart kicked against her ribs, echoing into his body, and he nearly shattered. It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard, the most beautiful thing he’d ever felt, because he had heard her go silent and still and cold, and yet here she was all warm and soft and alive.

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