Chapter 257: 257

The first time we kissed was magical and terrifying, hating and desiring him with the same intensity. But it was nothing compared to the first time I felt his body over mine. I felt safe in the hands of the person who could hurt me most.

I exhale, and watch as a bluish-gray mist drifts toward the threads in my hands, now slightly warm.

Afraid of breaking whatever is happening, I call up another memory. This time his blue eyes are what I see, in a room that belonged to neither of us. His hands gripping the doorframe while his gaze demanded answers. The first time we saw each other after my return from that catatonic state. I wanted to hate him. I wished I could. But the instant he was before me, the insects nesting in my stomach—those caterpillars that had been there for weeks—burst into furious butterflies.

The gray mist writhes in my hands, like an animal rubbing against its master for affection. With each passing second, hope blooms in my chest. I watch, astonished, as the soul brushes the threads, fusing slowly with them, forcing them to reweave. It’s like watching invisible hands stitching.

When I think I’ve done it, I open my eyes for real and scan my surroundings. My gaze falls to Cassian’s chest, still motionless.

“It has to work,” I say, my voice breaking.

Azeroth’s hand squeezes my shoulder.

“It has.”

I look at his face and find a genuine smile there.

“Look at his chest.”

I do as he says—and see the spear wound is gone. In its place is a scar. I reach out to trace its outline, and then I feel it.

A heartbeat.

A heartbeat that was never there, now pounding strong.

Cassian

In many novels and poems, authors talk about life flashing before your eyes before you die. I’ve never known whether to believe them, and I never really cared. Death always seemed impossible. Until now.

In my case, there wasn’t a parade of memories showing me my childhood, my troubled adolescence, my life of excess, or the darkest parts of my existence. No, none of that played out before my eyes. I only saw Elara. Every single one of my moments with her, from the first to the last. From the smallest to the most important. Every little smile that only I seemed to want to steal, every furtive glance she thought I didn’t notice, every caress capable of making my skin shiver in ways no other woman ever had.

That jolt in my chest the first time my eyes fell on her in that church, under the spotlight, with her nakedness exposed to the eyes of dozens of lustful vampires—it has vanished. But in its place is a much warmer, calmer feeling. Ironic, considering I know I’ve died. I have no regrets in my life, I’m not a man with a great conscience; however, leaving her behind is my deepest regret.

Missing the rest of her smiles.

Missing Evren’s growth, her first steps.

The sleepless nights, the ones where Elara will try to hide from the others to cry alone over the loss of a daughter we never had time to live with.

I’m going to miss all the good and bad moments, and that is the only thing that weighs on me.

That’s why, even though the cruelest cold brushes against my back, urging me to surrender, to let it carry me where my soul is destined to rest, I refuse. Darkness surrounds me completely; still, there’s a faint, wild scent in the air that makes me feel at home.

Just a little longer, I tell myself. Enough time to carve her scent into my memory so it will follow me to the other side, so I’ll never forget her, because I know our paths will take a long time to meet again. As selfish as I’ve always been, seeing her again is the last thing I want—if it means her life has ended, that her heart no longer beats, and the rest of her loved ones must suffer the same pain I feel at never seeing her again.

Time has no meaning here, so I don’t worry about leaving, even though the cold keeps clawing at my back. I’m determined to stay as long as I can if it means I can keep capturing fragments of her. I even think I hear the whisper of her voice. And in the midst of all this darkness, memories that don’t belong to me suddenly fill my vision. I see myself through other eyes, in a way I never appreciated in my own reflection. With each memory it’s as if she were right beside me, and my hands only want to reach for her and touch her. Just one last time.

I would kneel a thousand times over just to feel the brush of her lips against my skin, the sound of her laughter echoing in my ears.

The cold recedes—not entirely, but enough for me to breathe without feeling daggers stabbing into my lungs. For just a brief moment, I feel fingers brush against my chest, and I try, in the midst of this endless darkness, to seize the hand they belong to. I almost think I’ve lost my mind, but I haven’t, because my hand closes around another smaller one, trembling without pause. It clings to me tighter, curling its fingers with mine.

“Cassian.”

That voice.

Mother Lilith, that voice.

I answer with a squeeze of those trembling fingers, and slowly warmth begins to spread. The stabbing pain in my chest is replaced with a strange, heavy sensation. Something pounds against my ribs, nearly stealing my breath.

“Cassian.”

The warmth is everywhere now, and it’s that voice that ignites a small flame in this dark place. I don’t know if I’m walking or crawling toward the light, only that I need to reach it. My name resounds over and over, each time more desperate than the last. It mixes with sobs and despair, and I wish I could move my lips and tell the owner of that voice—the one who has stolen my sleep so many times—that I’m on my way, that I’m dragging myself back from death to her.

Because I am the monster she needs, and I will never leave her side.

With that certainty, I keep pushing toward the light until it blinds me, and the next thing I see is a gray sky.

No—gray eyes.

Filled with tears.

The eyes of my little wild thing. The eyes of Elara Voss.