Page 36 of Nyx
But it can’t be.
I know it, I know it, Iknow it,but it’s impossible.
My legs crumble and I fall to my knees, closing my eyes and lifting my face to the sun. Power courses through my body, untamed and uncontrollable as the branches lean in and reach for me. The ivy leaves its home on the trees as it comforts me, wrapping around my trembling limbs.
But the flowers don’t come.
They aren’t the ones I need.
“My flower,” I whisper, and like it’s crying alongside me, the wind howls through the valley below.
My mate.
Reyes
Theforestusuallygrantsme peace, but as I walk towards the village, the leaves and peaceful sunlight are missing their comfort. I rub my hand absentmindedly, resisting the urge to run back and forget this scheme to leave. The look on his face was a punch to the gut. Shock that morphed into betrayal, then fear that faded to nothing.
The betrayal hurts the most, but it’s the nothingness I hate. The stoic mask that slid into place when I told him it would just be for a few days, and the way he’d clocked out when I tried to reassure him I’d be safe.
We planned for worst-case scenarios, and determined a path that allows us to scout ahead. There’s a strict agreement between us that we’ll turn around if we run into any signs of a threat. We can’t erase the danger, but we can plan for it, and we have. We did.
None of that seemed to matter, though.
Something shifted in his demeanor, and it’s like I was talking to a carving of Nyx. Cold and flat and unreachablein a way he’s never been with me. I’m not convinced my words penetrated his mind, even if he asked me to be safe. He said goodbye in that quiet manner of his, but the motions were mechanical. The spark behind his eyes was missing, and it’smyfault.
Near the edge of the forest, I hesitate. My gaze swings towards the overlook as if it were possible to see him from this far away. It’s like I can sense him staring after me, too. The need to go to him is so intense that it feels like I’m being tugged along, fighting some invisible binding that has me snared.
My heart hurts, and my feet drag as if they’re made of lead as I convince myself to respect his boundaries. I promised him a choice, and he asked me to leave. Even though every instinct I have is screaming against it, he deserves autonomy over himself. He’s more than earned it, and I’ll never be the one to take it away again.
This anchor of a heart fights my every step as I force myself from the woods. In the village, Lillith and Taryn stand beside the van. Even after Elas and August plowed through that fence at Ljómur, the SUV still runs. Lillith has been tinkering with it to make sure it doesn’t die and leave us with a single vehicle, but the van is the safer choice. Its engine is weaker and the lower clearance doesn’t handle the terrain as well, but it’s reliable.
We travel light, saving the space for the supplies we’ll be hauling back. Food and water, spare fuel, and a few essentials for emergencies. Blankets, a tarp, rope, and a surprisingly colorful variety of weapons. Lillith apparently raided the armory as they fled Ljómur and treated it like a buffet.
My knife is holstered on my side, freshly sharpened. Taryn has one of our limited firearms on her hip—a handgun that almost knocked me on my ass the few times I tried to shoot it. How she handles it without as much as an obvious kickback is a fucking mystery, because that shit hurts. Lillith…
Well.
Lillith has a twin set of short swords strapped on her back in a threatening X, and a longsword slung around her hips. There’s also a suspicious lump under the thigh of her sweatpants that leads me to believe more weapons are hidden on her body. It seems like overkill, because according to the stories of their escape, her hands are the deadliest thing on her person.
But she looks happy, so that’s all that matters, I guess?
Taryn acknowledges my approach with a polite smile before her attention swings back to her mate. “Sweetheart, you won’t be able to sit down like that.”
“Don’t I look cool, though?” Lillith flexes her giant arms as Taryn chuckles and pats her bulging biceps.
“So cool,” she agrees as she slides the chest holster—where did that even come from?—over Lillith’s head, being careful not to snag her horns with the leather strap.
“Who pissed in your morning oats?” Elas asks from beside me, and I scrunch my nose.
“Gross,” I complain, and he chuckles and shrugs. “Nerves are bothering me, I guess.” My eyes betray me and move to the forest, and Elas hums his understanding. Pity softens his expression for a moment, and I cross my arms and turn away.
Everyone looks at me that way when it comes to Nyx. They read my face like a book, where my affections are apparently displayed in real time. And they all have a fucking opinion, even if they don’t say it out loud. They prepare for my inevitable heartbreak from loving someone who’s always been invisible. They brace themselves for my fallout.
“Did you tell him you were leaving?” he asks, gentler this time but still with that godsdamned sympathy. He means well… theyallmean well, and it kills my rising indignation.
“Yeah.” I shove my fingers through my hair as I blow out a long breath. “Make sure he’s okay, will you?” Elas nods and pats his chest, just above his heart. It’s a promise, and Elas doesn’t give them lightly. It relieves a fraction of my tension.
The chatter builds as most of the camp gathers around us to say goodbye. Everyone wants something. August needs more medical supplies, of course, while Ronan is more concerned with food. Cameron only asks for more books, and I promise to grab a few new ones to add to our small library, even as Ronan and Elas both roll their eyes.
