Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Lena
Iawoke to the first frost of the year. My circadian rhythm has indeed shifted over the last few weeks—up with the sun on a Sunday morning?
Who am I? The crunch of delicate ice crystals under my boots as I walk the narrow hiking path near Havard Hall acts as a metronome, keeping my thoughts in tempo with my steps.
My breath syncs to the rhythm—an act of self-soothing I must have unconsciously learned over the years.
The sun filters through the thinning amber canopy, its rays glinting off frost-tipped leaves and casting long, dainty shadows across the forest floor.
My breath puffs in the air, the rhythm in steady cadence with my metronome.
I round the bend in the trail, where it opens to the little clearing I’ve claimed as my own.
As far as I can tell, no one but me comes here. About the size of an SUV, it’s a small space filled with undisturbed tall soft grasses and surrounded by tightly packed brambles and trees. My little sanctuary, a refuge from my captious, ruthless peers.
Two days ago, when Katri kicked my ass to the pavement, that magical caged creature inside me clawed to be free.
I intend to meet her again. Face-to-face.
I know now I’m not searching for light. My magic isn’t light, love, and all things good like sweet virtuous Gemma’s.
Nor is it searing righteous lightning like Boden.
I should’ve known not to look for those things inside me.
The moment I saw my family tree, my father’s name written in black ink, I should’ve known to search instead for those dark coiled vines.
So here I stand, reaching inside myself with an incorporeal hand.
Where are you, beast? I search my chest, feeling nothing but the chill of cool morning air in my lungs.
I rake through my stomach—empty, still having not eaten breakfast. I comb through my mind—finding a myriad of emotions, irritation and anger rising to the forefront.
Is this why Dmitri demanded I be the sun—his Solnishko? Little sun. Was he trying to cage this creature, push her down so far she never learned to raise her head? It’s too late now. I’m here.
There! She flickers in my solar plexus, a ball of tangled thorny vines. She pulses at my surprise and again at my pleasure in her recognition. I reach for her, craving to connect with this tenuous part of me.
“Miss Solis.” A silky voice pulls me from my internal investigation, and I lose my fragile hold on my magic.
“Kian,” I grumble, narrowing my eyes as he struts into my space wearing casual workout clothing—such a contrast to his tailored suits.
“You really abhor the respect of honorifics, don’t you?” He stops in front of me.
“Only as much as you must relish the distance they provide.” My chin tilts upward with a hint of defiance.
In response, he just hums, providing no confirmation or denial.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
He raises a sculpted eyebrow in scrutiny or maybe consideration. “Checking in on you.”
“You could have texted.”
“You would have called me a stalker.” His face is set in an impassive emotionless mask.
“And this is less stalkery behavior?” I question, giving him a look packed full of incredulousness.
“I suppose not,” he says, with a slight rise of his shoulders, before gliding his eyes over my body.
I decide to head off the lecture he’s obviously about to give me. “Listen, I know I don’t have an escort, but I needed…room to breathe.”
“It’s alright, it’s just us out here.” He tilts his chin toward my face. “You’re still bruised.” Not a question—a statement of fact, in recognition of the sad state of my puffy displaced facial features.
“Yeah.” I bite my bottom lip. “Apparently, I’m not great at replenishing my energy. A necessity for healing. Or so my girlfriend has informed me.”
“Girlfriend?” A muscle in his jaw ticks, and his eyes darken, swirling with his stygian magic.
“The physician.” I wave my hand in dismissal. “Trust, I know she’s out of my league. I have unrequited fantasies of future proposals. Have you seen the spa? There’s infused water.”
“I’m aware.” Kian chuckles, catching on to my joke. “May I?” He gestures to my bruised cheek.
I nod, and he steps closer to me. His undoubtedly overpriced performance sneakers are toe-to-toe with my boots.
Achingly slow, his hands rise, and he gently cups my face. His long fingers are not as soft as I’d expect from a man who sits behind a desk. Instead, they’re calloused; I realize they’re likely shaped from decades of combat.
His eyes, which captured mine the moment he stepped into the clearing, dilate.
The black swirls expand from his pupils, overtaking his silver irises and then the whites of his eyes completely.
My breath catches, he’s beautiful, terrifying.
But I’m strangely not afraid. He exhales coiling inky shadows.
I inhale, and they reach for me, slipping into my mouth and climbing down my throat.
Their warm vaporous caress catches me off guard, and I jolt.
“Just breathe,” Kian whispers, as he strokes the apples of my cheeks. He cradles my face like it’s something breakable, something precious. He’s hard to read beyond his mask of reserved calm, but I do as he instructs. I just breathe.
I don’t know how long we stand there. It could be just one peaceful moment or centuries—civilizations could have been birthed and fallen, and I’m just a stone statue testament to breath.
His umbra wisps crawl down my throat, invade my lungs, creep through my bloodstream, searching out every hurt and twinge of pain.
They snake around my organs, my heart, my brain, my kidneys, my goddamn needy womb, restoring and strengthening. And. I. Just. Breathe.
They slither along each synapse, nerve, and neuron, lighting them with tingling sparks, until they reach my solar plexus. There, they brush up against my coiled beast, as if to say hello.
“There you are.” Kian lets out a shuddered breath, closing his eyes. His face fills with a reverence I don’t understand. With one more stroke to my creature, his stygian wisps fade like the incorporeal smoke they are, taking with them my pain and swelling.
“I didn’t know fallen could heal?” I question, without asking what I really want to know: What the fuck was that, Kian?
“It’s not a typical talent,” he confirms, as he opens his eyes, his expression pensive. “It requires compatibility. I’m not so much healing you as providing you the energy for you to heal yourself.”
“Oh, you’re like jumping my car battery?” A small chuckle slips from my lips.
“Something like that.” He laughs before brushing a rebellious curl from my forehead. He shakes his head, taking a step back.
“Thank you,” I whisper, reaching out for him. My creature begs me to stop his retreat. Something in me cracks, keening as he takes another step backward.
“I’m glad you’re alright, Miss Solis,” he states, clearly drawing a line, informing us both the moment we just shared, whatever it was, is over. “Please try and stay out of trouble.”
“I make no promises.” I shrug in feigned nonchalance.
“I would expect nothing less,” he whispers, as he walks off into the woods.