Birds burst into the sky and tiny critters scattered as I surged through the forest, following the rugged cut of the river, its seething waters flowing through the ravine between mountains. The first rays of sunshine glittered against dewy leaves and I breathed in the pungent scent of the pine needle carpet as I plunged between trees at a reckless speed. It felt fucking glorious, shooting through the undergrowth, power winding around my bones to push me faster, faster, faster. I was a howling winter wind sweeping through the knotted forest.

Arriving at the spot where a chunk of the mountain had given away beneath Nelle's feet yesterday, I found Draxxon's sword beneath a leafy shrub where it had landed after it had been struck from her grip. The muddy earth was scuffed with footprints and was hollowed out where my body had hit the ground.

An icy breath slithered down my spine.

How the hells did I survive that fall?

Fuck knows how. My mother's blood gift, yeah, to some extent, but it had been wishful thinking that I might survive when I'd hurled myself off to save Nelle. Now there was something different coursing through my veins—a low strumming in my blood. And that ancient wild and wicked strain that had sung to me while I battled my way to Nelle, was the barest whisper at the back of my mind.

Kneeling at the edge of the river where it ran shallow, I washed away the blood crusting the wyrmbone and wiped the blade dry against my adamere pants before sliding the sword back into the leather sheath strapped down my spine.

The first thing I needed to do was head up the mountainside to where I'd fought Danne's soldiers and find out if mortals had come across the wreckage. It was probably futile to even bother, a pointless exercise. It was a long shot that the carnage would remain undiscovered. The mountain road was remote, but by now surely someone would have come across it. However, on the off-chance they hadn't—and I was praying to Zrenyth they hadn't—I needed to clean up the mess strewn across the roadside. The vehicles, dead bodies, and weapons. It would be a fucking nightmare the Houses would have to deal with if it was discovered, especially with ancient weapons and cursed bolts littering the battlefield, that would expose our society to the world of mortals.

As I climbed the cliff, using flax and stunted shrubs to haul myself up, my thoughts turned once more to Nelle. I'd left her in the cottage sleeping. I didn't like the idea of leaving her there alone. I knew she could take care of herself. She was a warrior, full of fire and fury. I was more worried that a nightmare would ensnare her and I wouldn't be there to wake her and offer comfort.

What am I going to do?

The question had been hounding me while I'd run through the forest.

She was mine.

And I—

I can't stay away.

My chest filled with a freezing bite of sleet, and the wretched feeling overwhelmed my senses... What my family wanted to do with her, to her... What they expected of me...

She'd been locked away too long on her family's estate, and her freedom was about to be shackled once more by my own family.

What did she deserve?

Freedom.

And that was my answer.

Clambering up and over the edge of the cliff, I rose to stalk across the uneven ground and shoulder my way through a thicket. I'd find one of Danne's cars that had survived the skirmish and drive Nelle as far as I could, let her go, and let her discover a place that no one knew about on her own. A place neither the Horned Gods nor my House could find her. Leave her...and let her live free.

Can I do that?

I'd tracked her down and found her, even when Danne had done his best to keep her hidden behind his Cloakers. Those threads of power that bound us together had proven there was nowhere she could go that I wouldn't find her.

Fuck, I have to stay away. I have to.

Leaves and twigs crunched underfoot and I ducked under a low-hanging bough as I broke through the forest's treeline. My boots crushed wild grass beneath their soles as I made my way up the slight incline to the roadside, and came to a slow halt.

I blinked, not quite sure what to make of what I was seeing.

There should have been a wreckage of vehicles, bodies strewn across the road and slumped down the slope of the mountain. At worst, the area should be taped off, with cops crawling all over the scene. However, all of it was gone. The roadside was wiped clean as if the battle had never taken place. Apart from one person standing in the middle of the road.

My stomach fell away to see her.

My gaze slipped over her shoulder and landed on my Mustang, and a second car parked on the roadside further back. Kenton leaned his hip against the matte-black metal and Caidan sat on the hood, his hands clasped between his thighs. Both of them watched, expectant.

If it had been anyone else standing there in the middle of the road, my father, even my aunt, I wouldn't have been swayed. But it wasn't.

It was my sister.

Ferne heard my approach, cocked her head, and shifted her body to fully face me. She didn't smile. She extended a hand upward and there was something cradled in the flat of her palm that looked like a dew drop made from amber. Her lips parted and the name spiraled from her mouth on a whisper. One single word that decided Nelle's fate.

"Tabitha."

It was a thunderous boom of a taiko drum.

A choice.

Always a choice I needed to make.

One that consumed my heart with bitter-black flames and rendered it to nothing but cinder and ash.

My family or Nelle.

Tabitha or Nelle.

My mother hadn't been killed by the Horned Gods. She'd been stolen.

And Nelle was the key to finding her.

***

When I awoke, the thin blue curtains were cast open and summery light streamed through the windows. I found myself alone in a strange bed of mismatched blankets and pillows. The small space was boxed in with bare chipboard, and there were candles along the windowsill that had melted into waxen pools and dripped upon the rough floorboards below.

Where am I?

I rubbed my eyes and sat up.

The cottage. Danne. Silas Boon. Graysen—

Where was Graysen? Unease slunk through me. He wouldn't have left me... Someone hadn't come for us? Surely?

Swinging my feet over the side of the bed, I tugged off a thin blanket and wound it around my naked body. I silently slipped out of the bedroom and found Graysen in the kitchen with his back to me, barefoot and wearing only his adamere pants. The armor hugged his muscular legs, and I took a moment to appreciate his ass. My body still hummed in a pleasant way from the night before, and a blush stole across my cheeks at the memory of those hands and lips claiming every inch of me.

He stood at the wood-burning range, the only way to cook anything in this rustic cottage. Through a series of pipes, the fire also heated the water too. The morning was already warm and the blazing flames inside the range increased the temperature even further. He'd opened the door to the cottage, and all the windows as well, to help move the hot air outside. A slight sheen of sweat glistened on his golden-hued skin, and he raised a forearm, the muscles flexing, to wipe his brow. He lowered his arm, only to shake his head a moment later, I imagined, to toss the raven-black locks from his eyes.

My gaze greedily devoured the tattoos that graced his powerful arms. The Ukkenskrit tales that coiled around one bicep, the wyrmfire in whorls and swirls on the other arm, fully inked right down to his wrist bound in thin leather straps and silver chains.

An icy sensation slipped down my spine as I took in his ruined back, the slashes and savage cruelty he'd endured. I was responsible for his punishment, and I still hadn't resigned myself to my part in his mother's death.

For a moment I was too crushed to even breathe.

He was too busy scratching at the pan with his spatula and cursing under his breath to know I was nearby. At least that's what I thought, until he asked, "Hungry, little bird?"

Heavy despondency fell through me.

I couldn't stay.

I couldn't be with him.

I had to swift away, and keep on swifting until no one could find me. Not even Graysen.

"You know I have to leave...right?"

He stilled, his muscles contracting with sudden tension. He lowered his head slightly and he let out a sigh so quietly I might not have heard it if I wasn't listening and feeling with all my senses. Slowly tapping the edge of the skillet with his spatula, the chink of metal on metal rang through the air. The room descended into silence again, before he said softly, "Let me have this morning...just us...please."

The blanket tangled around my legs as I approached, and I wound my arms around his waist, resting my cheek against his scarred back. His lungs expanded with a sharp intake of air at my touch as that electric feeling zinged between us. "I want that too." More than anything.

He was cooking something that tingled my nose, something a little bitter...what is that?

As I peered around his side, he lifted his arm so I could snuggle closer. His arm draped over my shoulder, and his curled fingers brushed lightly up and down my arm sending waves of desire rippling through my body at every innocent stroke.

My nose scrunched as I blinked at the skillet, utterly surprised.

This...I was not expecting this. Astonishment rounded my eyebrows. "You're making me pancakes?"

"Kinda," he grumbled. He scraped at the lumpy mass in the skillet with the spatula, trying to find a way under to flip it over. The pancake had stuck to the pan and I could see there were a few already cooked, oddly shaped, and mostly burnt, stacked haphazardly on a plate. "Fuck," he scowled. His inky brows slashed over dark eyes. "This isn't as easy as they make it look."

I scoffed at him. "It's pancakes. They're the easiest thing you can make."

Nudging him aside with a hip, I stole the spatula away, while hitching the blanket higher up my chest with my other hand. "Wait for the bubbles first. Once they've appeared it's ready to flip."

He stood behind me, his bare chest touching my bare shoulder blades. I bit down on my lower lip to stop the moan from slipping out as I leaned into him further. His arms circled my waist, his fingers spreading wide on my hips, and while I flipped and tossed fresh pancakes onto the plate, he moved with me, our bodies shifting in perfect union. He helped me spray the pan, and pour fresh batter into a lopsided circle, laughing as I teased him with what he'd already cooked, listening while I taught him the art of pancakes.

It felt nice. It felt normal.

And Graysen and I had never been normal.

As sudden as that pleasant thought came, it was swept away again.

A different feeling, darker and more twisted, pushed me down. What was nearly stolen from me.

Graysen's body tensed behind me and he whispered my name as a question. Perhaps whatever power bound us together also tied him to my emotions, and he could feel the despair choking my throat.

He twisted me around to face him. My arms slunk around his back, my fingers skimming rough textured skin, and I held onto him, desperate for the comfort he offered. He cupped the nape of my neck, tilted my head up, and drifted his other hand down my side to let it rest on my hip. His eyes were soft when they searched mine for the longest time, penetrating, seeing me, all of me, all the parts I was wrestling with. I'm sure he already knew the answer before he asked gently, "You okay?"

I don't know yet.

Maybe not for a while.

Maybe I'll never get that piece of me back.

"I will be." A lie I held onto with a death grip.

His mouth tipped up one-sided in a small smile. "Such sweet lies." I closed my eyes, lay my cheek against his sculpted chest, and soaked in his cedar scent until I could breathe again. When I opened my eyes and pushed away to see him better, he bowed his head and stilled an inch away from my lips. He stayed there, letting me make up my mind, letting me travel the rest of the distance if I wanted to kiss him.

When my lips met his, fire banished the darkness inside and lit it up with his velvet night, his promise of wickedness. His fingers tangled in my loose, messy hair and mine feathered through his black locks. My lips glanced over his in a gentle chaste move that belied the raging desire inflaming my blood. I swept my tongue along the seam of his lips and he parted them on a raw sigh of pleasure. I closed my mouth over his, and it was my tongue that slid inside, insistent on my claim. He moaned roughly, his hand sliding from my hip to cup my ass. Deepening the kiss, I pressed closer into him, my softness meeting his hardness.

Holy Skalki...I could kiss him forever.

But the bitter smell of pancakes assaulted my nostrils.

"I can smell it burning," I said into our kiss.

"Let it burn," he groaned before flicking the roof of my mouth with his tongue, sending a delicious shiver of anticipation running across my skin.

Even though I didn't want to, I pulled away, turning back to the stove.

I finished cooking the rest of the pancake batter. The pantry was stocked with all sorts of foods, long-life and canned and powered, that would last a long time between the visits of the owners of the cottage whenever they chose to stay. Graysen had found this pre-made mix of pancakes in the pantry along with a carton of long-life milk. I flipped the pancakes onto plates, squirming against his hands as they roamed my body while I worked. Moaned, when he nudged his face into the wild locks, to whisper into my ear all the things he wanted to do to me, here on this counter, on the rickety round dining table, outside on the swing chair I hadn't noticed when we'd first arrived.

"Eat first," I said, a little breathlessly.

While he rattled around in the drawers for cutlery, I drizzled honey he'd found onto the stack of pancakes. And that was when I finally noticed the fading wisps of steam curling from two mugs toward the end of the chipped laminate bench. A wide grin split my face as soon as the sweet scent tickled my nostrils. I bounced on the balls of my feet in excitement. "Hot chocolate?" I jabbed him in the ribs and he shirked away with a muffled curse. "Graysen Crowther are you about to drink sugary crap?"

Graysen snorted, rolling his eyes.

This was... What was this? An attempt at domestic bliss?

Picking up the two mugs of hot chocolate, he began to offer one to me...then stilled. Before my grabby hands could grasp the mug's handle, he pulled it out of reach and swiveled around swiftly. It looked as if he was going to tip my hot chocolate into the sink just because I teased him.

What the hells?!

"No, you don't!" I shrieked.

Lunging, I seized hold of the mug and wrestled it from him. Hot chocolate spilled over the mug's rim. The hot brown liquid splashed over my hand and I licked it up with a grin, sighing—delicious. In a flurry of quick steps, I backed away from him and drank half of the chocolaty drink before he could stop me—one hand outstretched, warning him away.

I ran my tongue over my sticky sweet lip, making a pleased humming noise at the back of my throat. Smiling, I tilted my head and wagged my eyebrows. "I understand your aversion to sugary crap, but this is too good." I lifted a shoulder, smirking. "Besides, Graysen Crowther making me pancakes and hot chocolate, how could I resist?"

However, Graysen's gaze had dropped to his hand cupping the edge of the wooden kitchen counter. His knuckles were burning white.

A flash of unease had my spine stiffening. "Graysen?"

He cleared his throat, loosened his fingers from the countertop and flexed them. When he pushed off the kitchen counter he was smiling, and he gestured with his chin toward the little nook with a paint-chipped windowsill overlooking the lake. "Come on, sit down, eat."

Maybe, it was all to do with this morning and how quickly the time would pass. Pancakes and hot chocolate...a thoughtful, kind parting gift.

And once more, sorrow pierced my heart at the thought of being parted from him.