Page 79 of Necromance
“You came back,” I breathed, tears welling again—this time from joy. “Lucien, you… you came back.”
His brow furrowed faintly as his hand rose to touch my cheek. “How?”
I let out a wet, broken laugh. “You Lucien. You sacrificed yourself for me. You broke the curse.”
He smiled, one corner of his mouth lifting wickedly. “You kissed me to wake me… let me guess. True love’s kiss?”
I shrugged, my smile widening. “Who would have guessed?”
Lucien shook his head, pulling me to his chest and burying his face in my hair. “Your grandmother could have told us there was another way.”
“She did,” I murmured, my voice muffled against him. “Well… sort of. She did say ‘true love always breaks the curse’.”
He smiled—slow, soft, stunned.
“Hmmm,” he hummed, still shaking his head as he gently shifted me so that he could stand, bringing me with him.
As Lucien and I ascended from the catacombs, our footsteps were no longer met with darkness, but light.
The castle… breathed. Sunlight poured in through stained glass windows that hadn’t been open in years. Vines receded from the walls. The halls seemed to straighten, warm hues creeping into once-dusty tapestries and lifeless stone. It was as if the castle itself sighed in relief.
Then, one by one, the spirits appeared. Dozens of them, maybe more. Translucent and glowing faintly gold, no longer grotesque or lost. No longer tormented.
Portia stood among them, her hair pinned in perfect curls, her gown a vibrant lilac that shimmered in the light. She smiled radiantly, tears in her luminous eyes.
She gave Lucien and me a little wave, elegant, cheerful, as her form began to rise.
Others followed. A young girl, a man with a violin, a maid in a cap, a footmanholding his hat to his heart. They rose together, drifting upward toward the vaulted ceilings, toward the light that awaited them.
They were finally free.
Lucien slid his fingers through mine, and we stood there, hand in hand, heart to heart, as the last of the ghosts ascended.
And for the first time, Ravenspire Castle wasn’t haunted.
It was home.
Lucien turned to me, the golden light catching the angles of his face, softening the shadow that had haunted his eyes for so long. But now… that shadow was gone. In its place, a glint of something boyish, wicked, alive.
His eyes sparkled with that familiar, smoldering heat, dark and wild, like a storm that had finally broken. And then came that grin—slow, devilish, thoroughly Lucien. The one that had first made my stomach flutter, and now made my heart ache in the best way.
Before I could say a word, he pulled me flush against him, strong arms locking around my waist as if he couldn’t bear to let go. His mouth found mine in a kiss that was both a promise and a claiming—hungry, tender, laced with all the pain we’d survived and all the joy that now bloomed between us.
The world fell away, the castle, the ghosts, the past. All that existed was him. Lucien Wescraven, alive and realand kissing me like I was the only thing tethering him to this earth.
When he finally pulled back, breathless and smiling against my lips, he murmured, “I love you, witch.”
“And I love you,” I whispered back, my voice shaking with everything I couldn’t say.
His grin deepened. “Good. Because I fully intend to haunt you for the rest of your life.”
I melted into him, breathing in his warm scent.
He was mine.
And I was his.
Utterly, completely, irrevocably his.
