Page 304 of Cursed Evermore
I wondered how much the truth about Zyrra had torn at him. I wanted to ask, to share the weight, but this was the longest I had ever spoken to Alaric. I couldn’t risk ruining it with the reminder of my mistakes.
“Wolfe gets like this sometimes,” he murmured. “He just needs time to cool off. He’ll come back eventually.”
“Eventually. But… that may be longer than three days’ time.”
“Yeah, that’s true. But we still have time. So, try not to worry.”
“I’m trying. I really am.” My voice cracked on the words.
“I know. I’m just encouraging you to keep going.”
“Thank you. I can’t bear the thought of forgetting him. And not finding him again.” The confession splintered something inside me, and I blinked hard against the sting in my eyes. I took another sip of tea, but the warmth did nothing to ease the rawness in my soul.
“I’m sorry.”
“I wish I could see him one last time. Just to remember.”
Something shifted in Alaric’s expression. The sadness eased, replaced by something almost like… hope. Slowly, a smile spread across his face. The first genuine one I’d seen from him.
“Every now and then,” he murmured, “we get that one wish.”
He gently took the mug from my hands, set it aside, then pointed over my shoulder.
I turned. And my heart stopped. Wolfe stood in the doorway, his eyes locked on me with an intensity that stole what little breath I had left.
He was here.Really here.
"Wolfe," I gasped.
“Hi, Ziyka,” he breathed.
I shot from the chair, and he met me halfway. He caught me, lifting me clean off the ground. My shawl slipped from my shoulders as his mouth found mine, a collision of relief and need.
For the first time since he’d vanished, I could breathe again.
“Wolfe, I?—”
“Shhh.” His mouth brushed against my temple, his grip tightening as if he could anchor me to him by sheer will. His scent, his warmth, his shadows—all of it cocooned me until the rest of the world ceased to matter.
His gaze flicked past me to Alaric. A silent nod passed between them, then the air split open around us.
Shadows curled, the room dissolved, and in the next heartbeat, we were standing in the familiar quiet of his bedroom at Vyrenth Hollow.
Wolfe set me down only long enough for the shadows to fade, but his hands never left me. His mouth found mine again, hungrier this time, as if our time apart had carved something feral into him. The kiss became rough and desperate, threadedwith grief and longing, as though he was pouring everything he’d never said into me.
I clung to him, eager to close every inch, to prove to myself he was real, that I wasn’t dreaming him into existence. My back hit the door, then the wall, and still his lips didn’t leave mine. Shadow and heat engulfed us in a storm, cleansing my mind of everything that wasn’t Wolfe Nightblade.
“Ziyka…” he whispered against my mouth. “I’m hoping this means you missed me.”
I answered by slipping my arm around his neck to pull him closer and deepen the kiss.
He growled low in his throat, lifting me into his arms again. His chest heaved, his heart beating just as desperately as mine.
By the time he carried me to bed, my pulse was racing so fast I thought it might give out. He laid me down, and I arched into him, pulling him even closer. Gods, I was burning alive yet clinging to life all at once.
For a heartbeat, I thought of the little time we had left. Those few days would slip through my fingers like sand. The sad thought made me hold him harder, and I couldn’t bear to let him go. Not even for air.
“Don’t stop.” I gripped his shirt.
