Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
“Now, go!” he commands us. “I cannot hold this open for long.”
Whistler doesn’t hesitate. He slides one arm around Hanna’s waist and lifts her like she weighs nothing, his expression suddenly all business.
“Come on, girly—home we go,” he says to her.
Hanna’s eyes widen in panic as the swirling light expands, drawing the hem of her gown toward it.
“Jules—” she whispers, her voice thin.
“I’m right here,” I tell her fiercely, squeezing her hand. “Just hold on—we’re getting you out.”
Whistler steps forward with her and they enter the vortex together. The light wraps around them like mist and then they’re gone.
Just…gone.
The vortex flares brighter for a moment and my stomach flips. I take a step toward it—and then everything inside me locks up.
Because leaving means—leaving Lucian…leaving the Spires. It means leaving the strange, brutal, beautiful world that I’ve somehow fallen in love with and the only man who’s ever looked at my curves like they were a treasure instead of a problem.
I’m halfway to the light when something in my chest twists so hard I actually stop walking and I turn back.
Lucian is still there, holding his arms out, holding the vortex open. His face is tight with effort now, lips drawn back slightly over the points of his fangs. His eyes burn like embers.
My throat aches.
“Lucian, if you wanted me to stay—” I begin.
His gaze snaps sharper, furious and sharp.
“No, you cannot. You must go,” he growls.
My heart lurches like I’ve been struck.
“But I thought—”
“Go!” he demands.
The word cracks through the ballroom like a whip and the air around him shudders.
The vortex surges, pulling harder, tugging at my hair, my dress, the very warmth of my skin. Lucian’s shoulders tremble for the first time and I realize—truly realize—this is costing him.
It’s not just blood…not just power.
Something deeper is flowing out of him—something that makes my eyes burn. This is everything he’s got—his very life-force is flowing out of him. But he’s doing it anyway—even if it drains him. Even if it breaks him.
I don’t think—I just move.
I rush back to him and throw myself into his arms.
For a second he stiffens, as if he’s afraid to touch me—afraid that if he holds me he won’t let me go. Then his arms close around me anyway, crushing me against his chest.
I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him. It’s not a gentle kiss—it’s desperate and bittersweet. It’s everything I feel but cannot say.
Lucian’s mouth covers mine like he’s starving, and for a heartbeat I feel him tremble—like the bond between us, whatever it is, yanks tight.
I break the kiss just enough to whisper against his lips.
“Goodbye…I'll never forget you.”
His eyes flash—pain and hunger and something like grief flashing in their depths.
But then his hands loosen and I know for sure, he’s letting me go.
I turn away before my courage dies. Mr. Mittens is miraculously still here—tail puffed, eyes huge, but he hasn’t bolted. He watches the vortex like he understands it’s dangerous.
“Come here, baby,” I whisper, my voice shaking.
I scoop him up and he makes a startled mrrp sound and then clings to me, claws carefully hooked into my dress like he’s decided I’m his safe place.
My feet carry me forward, but my body feels like it’s made of lead. And my heart feels like it’s being left behind on the obsidian floor.
But I run towards the vortex anyway—before I can stop myself, before I can look back again, before the look on Lucian’s face can undo me.
The light swallows me.
It’s cold and hot at the same time—like plunging into icy water that somehow burns. For a fraction of a second, I feel weightless.
And then—everything tears sideways.
The last thing I feel, right before the world turns inside out, is the phantom pressure of Lucian’s arms around me…like my body is already mourning his loss.
Oh God. Oh God, what have I done?
66
Jules
The world snaps back into place around me.
One second I’m standing in a vortex of blinding light, Lucian’s arms still warm around me, his kiss still burning on my lips—and the next I’m standing in my tiny living room, my feet planted on the familiar, slightly uneven carpet.
I’m back in my crappy little apartment—I’m home.
Mr. Mittens is still clutched under my arm, his solid, wriggly weight the only thing keeping me upright as the dizziness washes over me in a slow, nauseating wave.
My vision swims and the walls tilt. I sway—then steady myself, breathing hard.
“Okay,” I mutter. “Okay, it’s okay. We’re… we’re back.”
Mr. Mittens lets out an indignant mrrrow and twists violently in my grip, his back feet bicycling in protest.
“Oh—sorry!” I crouch down and let him go.
He hits the carpet, shakes himself like he’s been inconvenienced rather than magically transported between realms, and then immediately trots off to inspect the couch, the coffee table, and the suspicious absence of his food bowl.