Chapter 30 #2
‘I’m not going to stand here and promise you words. They’re too easy. I’ll show you. I’ll earn back every ounce of trust if you ever want to give it to me. I’ll wait. I’ll fight for you in silence if I have to. Just -.’
He paused, hands flexing on his thighs.
‘Tell me there’s still a way to make it right. Not to get you back. Not for me. But for you. Because you deserve someone who listens. Who never makes you question your safety, or your story, or your survival again.’
After a pause, she sighed. ‘ Why would I believe you’ll be that man now?’
His stomach knotted. ‘Because I’m here to stay on Cybele for as long as it takes to convince you, with my actions.’
Her eyes flickered at his words.
‘I can’t erase what I did,’ he whispered. ‘But I can make damn sure you see I don’t intend ever to do it again.’
Soleil studied him. When she spoke, her tone contained a hard edge.
‘You made me feel like I had to choose between my past and my future,’ she clipped. ‘And that if I didn’t bleed the truth on your timeline, I wasn’t worth your love. You didn’t just break my trust, Santi. You broke me.’
He flinched. She didn’t stop.
‘You don’t get to fix that with pretty words or generous gestures. As for your apology, I don’t buy it yet. I need time to work through it all.’
She stepped back. ‘Please don’t contact me for a few days.’
Her quiet, calm delivery shattered him, yet he nodded, unable to do much else.
Her eyes lingered on him a moment.
For a beat, he glimpsed the ghost of the woman who once held his face close to his and called him mine.
Until she turned and walked away, through the back door, disappearing into the back of the cafe.
Santi stayed kneeling in the middle of the floor, spine bowed, palms shaking, as the scent of her and the aromatic kahawa she brewed wafted in the air.
SOLEIL
Soleil shoved through the rear doors into the staff corridor.
Her breath came jagged and quick.
Her chest was tight and aching as she marched to the back locker and pulled open the metal door.
She snatched her bag from the hook, her hands shaking.
Her heart had not yet slowed since she whirled around to Santi.
He was no more a memory, nor a hallucination. He was freakin’ real and here on Cybele.
The image of him so thin, gaunt, so haunted, swam in her mind’s eye.
His eyes appeared hollowed out. His jaw was more pronounced, as if guilt ground him down day by day.
He had not eaten; that much was clear.
In his gaze, when it landed on her, was the raw, splintered remorse she’d hoped for.
Still, it was not enough, even when he announced in a gravelly timbre she yearned for, ‘I know I’ll have to earn your trust back.’
Well, okay. Naam. Also, no fokkin’ shit.
She didn’t want apologies.
She wanted proof. She sought change.
He could howl to the moons and promise her everything under the stars, but unless his actions aligned with his words, his promises were just noise.
As she slung the strap of her bag across her chest and turned, her boss stepped into her path, eyes widened with a blend of terror and affront.
‘What gives your monster visitor the right to come into my place of business and - ?’
Kharon’s snarl faded off as she tilted her chin and shifted to face him, her eyes gleaming with warning.
Her mouth curled with a snarl that split her already-fraying patience.
‘Fokk,’ he muttered.
He stumbled back a half step. Sweat broke on his upper lip. ‘Who are you and your friends?’
‘Your worst nightmare,’ she clipped, her tone cold. ‘Also, I had better still have my job tomorrow morning when I come back. Or else you .’
He nodded, grimacing as his face paled. ‘Y-you got it.’
She brushed past him, her boots moving fast.
The door hissed open and closed behind her as she stepped into the station thoroughfare’s dim light.
The air conditioning whipped around, stinging her flushed face.
Fury consumed her.
Shock still buzzed in her limbs, a cruel vibration, chased by a sorrow that gnawed at the edges of her spine.
Seeing Santi again was an agonizing paradox.
It was as if her soul had molten silver poured into it: burning and beautiful all at once. The sight of him, the man who fractured her life, yet still held the fragments of her desire, ignited a profound longing.
This deep, quiet ache was betrayal itself, a painful reminder that the connection, however damaged, had not dissolved.
However, she was no longer his. No more was she the infatuated woman who folded at the sound of his voice, the captivated lover who would melt into his arms.
Nada, she would take her time, maintain her composure, and remain firm when he came around again, because he would.
When he appeared, she would not scream, cry, or plead.
Until he proved worthy of her heart.
The following morning, Soleil opened her dormitory door to a corridor steeped in quiet.
The recycled air held a chill, so she’d shrugged a jacket hung open over her clothes: a black tank top and slouchy trousers cinched at the waist.
Her braid was messy, wild from a night of tossing and turning.
She took one step forward. Then she slowed to a stop.
Across the hallway, beneath the dull flicker of a bulkhead light, was a figure.
One cloaked in shadow, broad shoulders wrapped in a dark tactical coat with the collar turned up.
Santi.
He stood like a sentry, arms crossed over his chest, leaning on the wall, one foot braced against the concrete surface.
His face was half-hidden. His hood hung over his features, but they were unmistakable to her.
Still, she caught the glimmer of his violet-gilded eyes and the contained flame within them.
Her breath hitched in her throat.
Her heart skipped once in surprise, then settled with a hard thud of irritation.
‘Fokk’s sake,’ she muttered.
She shot him a dagger-sharp glare. ‘Stalking now, is that it?’
She did not stop to engage him further; she swept past, her jaw clenched, her pulse tight.
His presence followed like a tether to her soul.
She reached the maglev station with her usual morning slump, earbuds in, head bowed.
Yet when she boarded the train, she sensed him.
Her eyes scanned the car once, then twice, until she spotted him in the far left back row.
He slouched in his seat, hood down, his gaze averted from her.
She settled into her chair til she jolted at the realization that his spectral lycan spirit lay across from her.
Invisible to the world, it was clear as day in her ethereal vision.
The wolf was massive, shimmering in subtle violet-gold.
Its body curled on the floor, its head raised, alert.
Eyes fixed on her, as if guarding her.
She flicked glances at it all the way to her stop and to the café.
It lingered just long enough for her to sense a shimmer of heat across her back as she stepped behind the counter.
Then it vanished, dissolving into glittering motes.
Moments later, Santi appeared.
He approached with quiet, prowling steps.
He placed a single white lily on the surface in front of her.
The flower gleamed under the overhead light, delicate and fragrant, a soft contrast to the man who brought it.
She neither spoke nor gazed into his eyes.
He turned and stalked out with the same silence he used to enter her space.
The air seemed colder in his absence, and she shivered.
After a beat, Soleil reached forward, her fingertips brushing the stem.
She lifted the bloom and brought it to her nose.
The scent was gentle, fresh, and sweet.
She let out a slow, quiet breath.
Then she found an empty vase behind the register.
She filled it with water and set the lily inside, even as its perfume lingered in the atmosphere like a memory that did not hurt for once.