Chapter 151

DARIUS -

Three Days Until the Eclipse.

Seventy-two fucking hours.

A ticking time bomb where every second was a battle to keep Eron's insidious presence from her mind, to prevent her awakening power from becoming a cataclysm, to stop the nascent bond between us from fraying into nothingness before we could forge it into a weapon.

"Three days," Selene sighed.

I pressed my lips to the crown of her head, inhaling her essence—wildflowers and ozone, and that stubborn, unbreakable spark that was rapidly becoming the axis my entire world spun on.

"We'll make it," I murmured against her hair.

"Three days. Then we bind it properly. And after that… Eron can come for us all he wants. He'll learn what happens when night and wildlight decide to burn together."

Selene tilted her head back, her eyes locking with mine, that familiar, intoxicating cocktail of fear and defiance swirling in their depths.

"Together?"

"Together," I promised, the word a vow etched into the very fabric of the bond connecting us, unbreakable and absolute.

Behind us, the cottage door slammed shut with enough force to rattle the windowpanes.

Morgana's muffled cackle leaked through the walls, followed by the distinct sound of her muttering about "romantic idiots" and "cosmic jokes about to get themselves fucked."

Xander grunted, his expression grim.

"We reinforce every ward, double the patrols. I want eyes on every known loyalist, anyone who's ever breathed Eron's name. No one gets within a mile of her."

I gave a sharp, single nod, my mind already a chessboard of possibilities, mapping every weakness, every shadow Eron might slither through in the next seventy-two hours.

"And when the eclipse comes… we stabilize the bond," I seethed, the promise of violence a cold fire in my veins.

"Then we hunt him down. And we end him. For good."

Roxy swung a leg over her motorbike, goggles already on, engine half‑growling beneath her.

Xander mounted his with the grim determination of a man preparing for war.

I didn’t move.

“We’re not going anywhere,” I said.

Both of them froze.

Roxy blinked. “I’m sorry — what?”

Xander turned his head slowly.

His face had gone the color of old parchment. He looked like I’d personally murdered his puppy and then asked him to sign the paperwork.

“What do you mean we’re not going anywhere,” he asked, voice flat with disbelief. “We just got ready. We’re mounted. The engines are on. The universe expects us to leave.”

Roxy snorted so loudly her helmet nearly fell out of her hands.

“Oh please,” she said, waving a dismissive hand.

“Xander’s upset because he had really important things to do today. Like stare at Elara. Then stare some more. Then maybe — if he was feeling adventurous — stare again from a slightly different angle.”

Xander’s face went red so fast it was almost impressive.

“I don’t— that’s not— I wasn’t—”

Roxy gasped dramatically.

“He’s stuttering. Oh gods, he’s actually stuttering. Darius, look what you’ve done. You’ve broken him. He had a whole schedule planned. Hour one: brood. Hour two: stare at Elara. Hour three: pretend he wasn’t staring at Elara. And now? Ruined.”

“Don’t,” Xander warned.

“—Poor Elara,” she finished anyway, grinning like a demon.

Xander made a strangled noise and stared at the ground like it had personally betrayed him.

I sighed. “Both of you, off the bikes.”

Roxy threw her hands up.

“Seriously? We’re staying here? Outside witchzilla’s cottage? Why? Why would we do that to ourselves? What did we do to deserve this?”

I pointed toward the crooked cottage, where Morgana’s curtains twitched violently — meaning she was absolutely watching us and absolutely furious about it.

“I’m not putting distance between the witch and us,” I said.

“We might fucking need her.”

Roxy groaned like I’d sentenced her to death.

Xander muttered something about “unholy suffering.”

I ignored them.

Selene stood beside me, cloak wrapped tight, eyes tired but bright.

I wasn’t letting her out of my sight.

Not for a second.

I walked to the nearest tree, sat down beneath it, and tugged Selene gently but firmly into my lap.

She let out a soft gasp — surprised, flustered — then melted against me like she’d been waiting for the excuse all night.

Her warmth settled into me instantly, grounding the bond, quieting the storm under her skin.

Roxy made a noise like she’d just witnessed a felony.

“Oh my gods,” she blurted.

“He’s serious. We're actually camping out here.."

The cottage window slammed open.

Morgana glared out at us like she was considering setting the entire clearing on fire.

“Are you fucking camping on my lawn?” she demanded.

Roxy waved enthusiastically. “Hi, neighbor!”

Morgana’s eye twitched so hard I thought she might combust.

Midnight appeared beside her, hissing like a boiling kettle.

The window slammed shut again.

Roxy sighed dramatically and flopped under the tree opposite us.

Xander sat beside her with the resignation of a man accepting his fate.

“This is going to be the worst three days of my life,” Roxy muttered.

Xander grunted. “Same.”

Selene shifted in my lap, curling closer, her head resting against my chest.

..

I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her flush against my chest, anchoring her to me as much as I was anchoring myself to her.

The frantic energy thrumming under my skin began to settle.

"Three days," I murmured into the silk of her hair, my voice a raw, possessive.

"You stay close. Like this. I need to feel your body next to mine, every second. It's the only thing keeping me sane."

Roxy's theatrical groan.

"Ugh. Disgusting. I'm going to need brain bleach and industrial-strength earplugs."

Xander, not even looking at her, muttered, "You need a muzzle."

"Say that again, you overgrown lawn ornament," Roxy snapped, whirling around.

"Gladly," he shot back, finally meeting her glare with a challenging smirk.

I closed my eyes, letting their familiar bickering wash over me, fading into meaningless background noise.

All that mattered was the woman in my arms.

Three days.

We would survive it.

We had to.

Because losing her wasn't a possibility.

It was an impossibility.

Not to Eron.

Not to fate.

Not to the gods themselves.

She was mine, and I would tear apart the fabric of reality before I'd let anyone take her from me.

.........

An hour later...

Selene sat up beside me, stretching like she hadn't a care in the world. Her shirt rose up, revealing a sliver of her stomach.

My breath caught in my throat as I traced the soft curve of her hip with my eyes, the sight sending a jolt straight through me.

“I don’t know why you use motorbikes,” she said, voice still thick with sleep.

“You guys can practically fly across buildings with that supernatural nonsense. Why not just… fly?”

I let a slow smile curl at one corner of my mouth.

“Because we look cooler on motorbikes,” I said, because some truths are worth stating plainly.

She tipped her head, considering.

“And all like you’re trying to win a brooding contest you were born to lose.”

“Someone has to set the aesthetic standard,” I replied, and she laughed — a soft, bright sound that made the tightness in my chest loosen for a breath.

She shifted, and her voice faded into a distant hum.

I wasn't listening to her anymore.

I was watching the way the morning light carved a golden line along her collarbone, how her hair fell in a careless cascade that I suddenly wanted to tuck behind her ear, the soft, inviting slope of her shoulders beneath the thin fabric of her shirt.

Three days.

Fuck.

Seventy-two hours of this exquisite torture, of existing in a state of maddening proximity. Close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her skin, to breathe in the scent of her hair, to see the subtle rise and fall of her chest with every breath. Close enough to reach out and close the agonizing space between us with a single motion.

Yet utterly unable to do the one thing my entire being screamed for: to be inside her.

To fuck her until she forgot her own name, until the only thing she could feel was me.

I felt the blood rush from my head, a hot, sharp ache as my cock went hard against the confines of my jeans.

Every casual glance, every accidental brush of her hand against mine, was gasoline on a fire that was already burning me alive from the inside out.

How the hell was I supposed to survive this without completely losing my fucking mind?

She must have felt my stare, because she turned around to scowl at me.

Rather than pretend I wasn’t blatantly gawking, I met her glare with a slow, unrepentant smirk.

“And what are you staring at?” she demanded.

“Just admiring the view,” I said, leaning back agsinst the tree like I had all the time in the world.

“Well, stop that.”

Color flushed across the high planes of her cheeks — a soft pink that made her look like she’d been caught doing something scandalous instead of… existing.

“If it makes you uncomfortable,” I said lightly,

“I shall respectfully keep my gaze above your shoulders.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“Seriously, Darius? We’re stuck out here for three days, Eron is hunting us, Morgana hates us, and you still find time to flirt?”

I shrugged, utterly unbothered.

“Seeing as we’re stuck out here for three days, I might as well enjoy the view. Time will fly quicker.”

Her mouth opened — probably to scold me — but her eyes flicked down, catching the way I was very deliberately looking her up and down.

She made a strangled noise.

“Darius.”

“What?” I asked innocently.

“I’m simply appreciating my surroundings.”

“Your surroundings?” she echoed, incredulous.

“You,” I clarified, tapping my temple.

“You take up my entire thoughts. Hard to ignore the thing that’s already living rent‑free in my head.”

Her breath hitched — just a little — and she tried to hide it by crossing her arms.

Badly.

“That’s not— you can’t just—” She gestured vaguely at me, like my existence was personally offensive.

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” I said, leaning closer,

“you’re still looking at me.”

She blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Then she muttered, “I hate you,” with absolutely no heat behind it.

I grinned. “No, you don’t.”

She huffed and turned away with theatrical indignation, but not before I caught the tiny, traitorous smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

When she leaned back, it wasn't beside me.

It was on me.

Her shoulder pressed flush against mine, her knee a deliberate, soft brush against my leg.

Her warmth seeped through the fabric of my shirt, a silent, heady invitation that felt like she'd been waiting for this exact excuse all along.

My arm wrapped around her waist on pure instinct, a claim I didn't even know I was making.

And she melted.

A soft, yielding sigh escaped her as she settled into my side, fitting against me like she was made to be there.

The peace lasted approximately three seconds.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Roxy's voice cut through the air, dripping with mock horror.

"They're doing it again. Xander, look! I swear to gods, if they start humping like rabbits right here on the lawn, I'm gouging my eyes out."

A mortified gasp was my only warning before Selene buried her burning face in my chest.

Xander just muttered a curse that sounded suspiciously like "lucky bastard" under his breath.

Then, the cottage window slammed open with a violent crack.

Morgana glared down at us, her expression promising a slow, painful death.

"Your Royal Fucking Highness," she snarled, her voice laced with enough sarcasm to curdle milk.

"I swear on all that is unholy, if you so much as breathe on each other with intent ro fuck on my lawn, I will personally turn your genitals into garden gnomes. Do it somewhere I can't see you. Preferably in another, far more distant dimension."

Selene just pressed her face harder into my shoulder, her body shaking with silent laughter.

I leaned down, my lips brushing against the silk of her hair.

"See?" I murmured, my voice low and smug.

"Even the witch knows... You're impossible to resist."

She elbowed me, a weak, half-hearted gesture.

But she didn't move away.

Not even an inch.