Chapter 82
Chapter 82
Sera POV
I didn’t even know how far I had wandered. My feet moved without aim, without direction, carrying me through the quiet dark like I was some spirit drifting through a world that no longer felt real.
The night was cool, but every breath felt too warm and too full. My skin still tingled faintly with that heat I didn’t understand, and it made everything inside me feel unsteady and in a mess.
I didn’t hear him approach.
One moment I was alone, lost somewhere between fear and confusion, and the next his scent wrapped around me, heavy, familiar, and inescapable. It filled my lungs before I even turned.
“Sera,” he murmured.
My name didn’t sound like a word when he said it. It sounded like a claim. Like prayer. Like need.
I looked up at him, and for a heartbeat, everything inside me twisted. His eyes were wild and just… so overwhelmed. As if he’d been searching for me, as if the thought of not finding me had torn something open inside him.
His hand reached out before I could respond to him, his fingers sliding into my hair, holding me like I might slip away again if he didn’t. His forehead lowered to mine, his breath uneven against my lips.
“Don’t wander alone,” he whispered, and the sound of it was frayed. “I could feel you slipping away from me.”
My heart stuttered painfully.
I didn’t answer. I didn’t know how to.
His arms wrapped around me slowly in a very demanding way, like something fragile in him was fighting to stay whole. And then he lifted me effortlessly. As if I weighed nothing at all. As if carrying me was the only thing that made sense.
I curled instinctively into him. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t choose to. My body simply moved toward him, drawn by something deeper than thought. My cheek pressed against his chest, and I could hear his heartbeat; it was too fast, too strong, as if it had been running to reach me.
He didn’t speak as he carried me back to the stronghold. There was no need; the silence between us was heavy enough to feel.
His chambers were dim, lit only by the dying glow of the hearth. He set me down with the same care someone would use to set down something breakable, but his hands didn’t let go. They stayed at my waist, holding, grounding, pleading without words.
“Sera,” he said again, softer this time… as if my name was the only thing keeping him steady.
My breath trembled.
I tried to step back.
But his fingers tightened, just enough to say, ‘Please don’t.’
And I didn’t.
His forehead pressed against mine again, his eyes closing like the contact itself was a relief. “I thought I lost you,” he whispered. And the sound of it, the fear in it, broke something open inside my chest.
I didn’t understand what I was to him. A mate. A promise. A possession. A memory he didn’t even know he was reliving.
But I knew this:
He needed me.
Not the way others need warmth or food or power.
He needed me like a breath.
Like the beating of his heart.
His lips brushed mine softly at first, hesitant and searching. My breath caught, and the bond flared, warm and pulsing, threading our ribs together. My hands lifted, trembling, resting against his chest.
And he exhaled, shaking, relieved, and desperate.
The kiss deepened slowly, like we were both falling into something we couldn’t stop even if we tried. His hands moved to cradle my face, his thumbs brushing my cheeks as if learning the shape of me all over again. The world disappeared. There was only heat. Only closeness. Only the ache of needing and being needed in return.
We sank into the bed together, just drawn by something we couldn’t fight. His touch was everywhere, warm and steady, tracing the mark he had left on my neck, and I shivered. My body reacted before my mind could think, leaning into him, opening to him, answering him in ways I didn’t have words for.
There was no dominance in it.
No force.
Just hunger.
A hunger that felt so deep and unstoppable.
His breath trembled against my throat, and he repeated. “Don’t leave,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I can’t lose you. Not again. Not again.”
I didn’t ask what he meant.
Because I was afraid I already knew.
I don’t remember when sleep finally took me.
One moment I was wrapped in Jade’s arms, my cheek resting against his chest, his warmth pressed around me like something I could drown in. The next, the world was no longer the quiet dark of the room but the vast, cold, silver-lit expanse of memory.
And I knew I was dreaming.
But I also knew it wasn’t just a dream.
The mark on my neck pulsed slow, steady, and possessive, like a second heartbeat tapping beneath my skin. It felt like a chain. A tether. A promise I hadn’t fully agreed to.
I tried to breathe, but the air in the dream tasted like smoke and iron. Like burning blood.
Then I heard her.
My voice.
But not from this life.
Elara, the name slid into my mind like a knife, sharp and familiar in a way that made my lungs strain. Her voice wasn’t loud. It wasn’t threatening. It was soft, weary, and so unbearably sorrowful that the sound of it hollowed out my chest.
“He killed us once,” she whispered.
My pulse stumbled.
The silver light sharpened, and the dream twisted. I saw flashes and shadows first, then shapes. A man standing before me. Eyes like silver moons. A hand reaching for me. A blade. A scream that didn’t sound like mine but still came from my throat.
“He killed us once,” Elara repeated, her voice trembling, breaking. “He will kill us again.”
My heart raced so fast I thought it might tear itself apart. I shook my head, trying to force the images away. Trying to pull myself back into my body. Back to the safety of warmth, of blankets, of arms wrapped around me.
My breath broke soft, shaken, silent against the darkness.
I tried to steady myself.
But Elara’s voice didn’t fade.
“He killed us once,” she murmured from the deepest part of me. “He will kill us again.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing a hand to my mouth to keep the sob from spilling into the room. Jade slept on, unaware. I wanted to reach for him.
I wanted to pull away.
Both desires tore at each other inside me, continuous and relentless until I finally fell asleep.