Chapter 37: 32: UNSPOKEN DREAMS AND UNRELENTING DESIRES

CELESTE

I woke up gasping, my heart hammering against my ribs as though it were trying to escape. A phantom warmth lingered against my skin, curling around me like a ghostly embrace.

The dream had been so real.

Elijah.

The way he'd looked at me through the glass of the coffee shop window, the way our gazes had locked like two halves of a whole finally snapping into place. His smirk, his deep, rich voice, the way he'd kissed my hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world. We had flirted—teased—laughed.

And I had loved him.

It was absurd. I knew that. I barely understood love, let alone lived it. But for once, I had felt it. Pure and effortless, like the books described it. Like something I could build a family on.

For a brief, breathless second, I imagined it—the impossible.

Two baby girls. Silky black curls like his, wild and unrestrained, with his hypnotic hazel eyes staring up at me in wonder. The weight of them in his arms, one in each hand, as I lay in a delivery bed, exhausted but whole. He would look at them as if they were his entire world, and in that moment, maybe I'd be part of that world too.

The thought left a crack in my chest, something raw and aching. I had never wanted to live inside a dream before. Never longed for something so unattainable.

But that dream? I wanted to drown in it.

A sharp pain lanced through me, dragging me back to reality.

Cold stone beneath me. The scent of blood, the weight of lingering magic. And Elijah, lying on the floor, his breath shallow, his expression unreadable.

Medina hovered over him, whispering something under her breath as she placed a hand over his chest. Magic flared from her palm, coiling around his form, forcing life back into him.

My own body trembled as the last traces of magic threaded through my veins. I had collapsed before him. I had lost consciousness. But why?

Elijah's eyes opened, hazel swirling with something dark and unreadable. He didn't look at Medina. He looked at me.

And I knew, without a doubt, that he had been there too.

That he had seen me. That we had lived in that world together.

The warmth of the dream still clung to me like an unwanted caress. I could feel it lingering in my bones, in my pulse, in the strange, unsteady rhythm of my breath. The weight of his gaze hadn't faded—it was there, piercing through the fog, as real as the cold floor beneath me.

Elijah.

I met his eyes, and the rest of the world ceased to exist.

Medina was speaking—murmuring something in that lilting, almost reverent way of hers—but her voice was a distant thing, drowned beneath the silent storm building between us.

I didn't move. Neither did he.

Because something had changed.

Something neither of us could name.

His brow furrowed slightly, but he didn't look away. I felt the air shift between us, growing heavier, charged with something volatile.

Did you see it too?

The words formed in my mind, but I couldn't speak them.

I was afraid.

Not of him. Not of what I had tried to do. But of the dream—the softness of it, the way it had curled around me like a promise, luring me into something that could never be mine.

I had never wanted to stay inside a dream before.

But that one?

I could have lived in it forever.

I could have walked into that café a hundred times, met his gaze through that glass a hundred more, and fallen in love just as easily every single time.

It was ridiculous.

Impossible.

And yet, it had felt real in a way nothing else ever had.

I could still hear his voice, the teasing lilt, the slow, deliberate way he had spoken to me, savoring every syllable like a well-aged wine. I could feel the warmth of his fingers ghosting over mine, the promise of something forbidden in the air between us.

And now, here we were, dragged from that world into this one.

This cold, violent, bloodstained reality where I had pressed a blade to his heart and he had done nothing but watch.

My fingers twitched, remembering the weight of the dagger, the way he hadn't even flinched.

I had felt his heartbeat beneath my palm.

Steady. Unbothered.

Because he had known.

He had known I wouldn't do it.

The bastard had been testing me.

A sharp, bitter heat coiled in my stomach, warring with the ghost of something much softer.

He shifted slightly, and I tensed.

I thought he might say something. A taunt, a reprimand, anything to break the unbearable silence between us.

But he didn't.

He just looked at me.

And I looked back.

It shouldn't have felt so real. But it did. The warmth of the café, the golden hue of the sun filtering through the glass, the sound of his voice—low, teasing, intoxicating. The way he had looked at me, like I was something worth savoring. Like I belonged there, in that world, with him. No blood, no betrayal, no fear. Just the easy give-and-take of flirtation, the thrill of a connection untouched by fate's cruelty. I had never wanted anything so badly. A love like that—effortless, consuming. A family. A home. But dreams weren't meant to last.

I held my breath, waiting, searching for any sign that he felt it as deeply as I did. But then, like a snap of a thread, the moment was gone.

He turned his head, pushing himself up. Medina tried to help him, but he shrugged her off with a forceful roll of his shoulder, his body towering over hers. She was nothing to him.

"Elijah, you—"

"Shut up," he growled, voice hoarse, barely human. "And get out."

Medina stiffened. "I just—"

His hand snapped out, closing around her throat before she could finish speaking.

Her breath hitched, eyes going wide. He didn't squeeze, not yet, but his fingers pressed in enough to silence her.

"I hate repeating myself."

The coldness in his tone sent a shiver down my spine. Medina paled but nodded quickly, her hands coming up to his wrist, not to fight, but to plead.

He let her go, and she stumbled back, coughing.

She cast me one last glance before rushing from the room.

The door clicked shut behind her.

I turned my attention back to Elijah, already bracing myself. He was going to kill me. He should kill me. I had tried to drive a blade through his heart.

But instead, he exhaled slowly, tilting his head to the side as he watched me.

I swallowed hard. "Aren't you going to—"

"Later," he cut me off, voice still rough. "We'll talk about how you tried to kill me later."

I blinked. That was... unexpected.

He took a slow step forward, then another, until the air between us turned suffocating. His gaze swept over me, lingering, dark and hungry.

"But right now?" he murmured. "Right now, I'm going to fuck you."

A tremor rolled through me.

"Elijah—"

"Shut up," he said again, but this time, there was no rage behind it. Just heat. Pure, unrelenting heat. "Do you have any idea how long I've been fighting this?"

I opened my mouth, but he was already moving, fingers curling around my wrist, dragging me toward him.

My breath left me in a gasp as my body collided with his—hard, unyielding.

His scent wrapped around me, dark spice and something wickedly intoxicating.

"I tried," he continued, his voice low, almost a growl. "Tried to stay away. Tried to ignore you." His fingers traced down my spine, sending shivers through me. "But you had to come sneaking into my room. Had to press a blade to my heart like you belonged there."

His lips ghosted over my jaw.

"And maybe you do."

I clenched my fists, heart hammering.

He was unraveling me, thread by thread, tearing apart every bit of self-control I had left.

"Say something," he murmured.

I swallowed. "I—I thought you were going to kill me."

His grip tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to make sure I felt him. "Maybe I should."

He nudged my chin up with his thumb, forcing me to meet his gaze.

"Maybe," he murmured, "I should ruin you instead."

Something inside me snapped.

I grabbed his collar and pulled him down, crashing my lips against his.

And he didn't hesitate.

Elijah devoured me, kissing me like he wanted to break me apart and put me back together in the same breath.

There was no hesitation, no second-guessing.

Just heat. Just want. Just the madness of two people who should have killed each other but instead burned for each other.

And I burned.

I burned for him.