Chapter 24
Reverie
We traveled well into the night. The forest swallowed all sound as we moved.
No birds.
No wind.
Just the steady crunch of leaves beneath our boots and the low growl of Pantar somewhere ahead, scouting with ears sharp and muscles coiled. Every few steps, someone glanced behind us, expecting Ubel or Selene to materialize from the shadows.
The adrenaline from the fight faded, replaced by exhaustion that we felt deep in our bones.
Each of my Faction was struggling in their own way and I knew we all needed to rest before we collapsed.
Torren cut through the underbrush, jaw tight, eyes scanning the dark. “We’re half a day from the portal—less if we move fast. But traveling at night is dangerous. The Dark Factions know this territory better than we do.”
Oren didn’t slow. “We’re not stopping unless it’s safe.”
“If we keep going without rest, safety may be the least of our issues.” Nathan glanced meaningfully in my direction.
My legs trembled, though I’d never admit it out loud. Nathan was right. My healing worked fast—usually—whatever had just awakened in me, left a deeper kind of fatigue. Not physically, but soul deep.
We traveled for another hour, and I knew it was time to let my men know, my pride be damned. “We need rest. I need rest.” I murmured.
They all stopped.
No argument and not the least bit of hesitation. Their concern for me outweighed anything else.
Zane ran a hand through his hair. “We’ll find something. A cave. Abandoned cabin. Anything with walls.”
“There is a place right ahead that may do,” Kharox growled into our minds.
Pantar suddenly froze, ears pricking, tail stiff.
Nathan tensed. “What is it?”
The Fellat turned, eyes glowing amber, and nudged me with his head—firmly—before padding deeper into the trees, silent as shadow. “Come, Nexus, I found the place the Varruk spoke of.”
We followed.
Branches parted to reveal a narrow cut of gorge, stone walls rising on either side like ancient teeth. A thin river ran along its base, glinting under the moonlight. And carved into the rock, half-hidden by vines and moss, was a dark opening.
A cave.
Natural, but deep enough to hide us.
Oren exhaled. “We stay here until dawn.”
Nathan led me in first, one hand warm at my back. The air inside was cool and dry, smelling of old earth and stone. Zane lit a small flame in his palm, revealing smooth walls curving inward, wide enough for all of us to sleep and guard the entrance.
Oren and Deshawn checked the perimeter, shadows flickering at their boots. Zeke and Zane shifted back fully, exhaustion weighing them down. Jet extended his hand to check for lingering abilities in the air.
And finally—finally—everyone exhaled.
Chloe sat beside me, brushing the hair from her face. “How are you holding up, bestie?”
I just wanted to say it's fine, or everything's all good here. But lying didn’t feel right with this strong woman who’d traveled worlds to help find me. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”
Her shoulder leaned into mine. “Whatever it is, we’ll face it together.” She turned her wrist over. “See this mark, this means I will always be here for you, no matter what.”
I felt tears fill my eyes at the sight of the tree of life inside a circle that marked her. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
“I’m glad you did. It helped me find you. Oliver and I are honored to be marked by our future Queen.” She smirked, “Deshawn was so jealous until you made him part of the club. He even threatened to take my best friend status.”
I bumped her shoulder with mine. “That’ll never happen.” I waggled my brow. “But I bet he does give good foot rubs.”
“Girl, you have no idea!” We both started giggling.
Oliver crouched near the entrance, voice low but firm. “Get some sleep. We need to move at first light.”
I saw Kharox join him and settle down to watch over us while we rested.
The cave settled around us—warm bodies, dim firelight, the rhythmic breathing of my men, and Pantar sprawled protectively near.
Just before I drifted off to sleep, I felt Jet lie down beside me and pull me close.
I stood in the middle of a battlefield.
Not mine.
Hers.
The sky was the color of blood and lightning, torn open by magic. The air shook with the roar of creatures and steel. Bodies lay scattered across cracked earth—soldiers twisted in unnatural shapes, arrows jutting from armor, ground torn apart by power.
My heart pounded, but not in my chest.
In hers.
Lilibet’s.
Her hand clenched around a sword etched with runes that glowed when she breathed. Flames spiraled along the blade—familiar, yet older than any fire I knew how to call.
Dust gusted past. Screams. War cries—the thunderous beat of wings overhead.
And there, at her back—her Faction.
Ambrose, bloodied and staggering, lightning crackling, unstable along his arms.
Merritt, one leg limp, is defending Ambrose with impossible fury.
Bren and Zenon, slashing through enemies twice their size.
Larkin, teeth clenched, summoned earth and stone to shield them.
Five men.
Not six.
Kratos wasn’t there.
And something inside me—inside Lilibet—felt that absence like a wound.
She spun, slicing through an armored beast that roared as it split apart. Power surged through her veins, painting the world in white-hot clarity. She was unstoppable.
Until a scream ripped through the air.
Merritt.
He fell to his knees, an arrow lodged deep in his side.
“NO!” Lilibet’s voice roared out of my mouth, power shaking the ground around her.
Ambrose caught Merritt before he collapsed fully, lightning flickered uselessly across his skin—his ability was gone, drained from battle or blood loss. Their eyes met, raw and terrified.
Zenon and Larkin rushed to cover them, blades flashing, but too many enemies surged forward.
Lilibet’s hands burned—light exploding from her palms—magic tearing upward like a detonation. The ground cracked open in a shockwave, and bodies flung into the air.
Her breath heaved, vision shaking, but she reached for Merritt. “Merritt, stay with me. Stay with me!”
His hand came up, trembling, stained in his own blood. “I’m here, My Queen.”
But his voice flickered like it was fading.
Behind us—behind her—I could feel it: Kratos should have been there.
He wasn’t.
The hole his absence left was jagged and wrong.
Lilibet’s heart broke with that realization. Not because she thought he was dead, but because she could feel him alive… and separated from them.
Ambrose looked up at her, desperate. “He can’t hold on much longer.”
Merritt’s breath hitched. Blood soaked his armor. “It’s… alright. You have to protect them.”
“NO,” Lilibet cried, voice cracking into something feral. “I will not bury another one of you!”
Fire erupted from her hand, searing the arrow to ash. Her ability poured into him—healing, stitching flesh, forcing his heart to keep beating. Her power was fury and love and refusal to let fate steal him.
Merritt screamed, but his eyes stayed open.
He lived.
Barely.
Lilibet lifted her head, tears cutting through ash on her cheeks, and whispered, “Where are you, Kratos?”
But the battlefield only answered with thunder.
Her scream of rage ripped me awake.
I shot up in the cave, heart racing, breath shattered into pieces.
Jet stirred beside me, his hand reaching for me instinctively.
“Reverie? Angel—hey, what happened?”
But I couldn’t answer, still feeling the echo of another woman’s grief in my chest.
Still hearing Lilibet’s voice.
“Where are you, Kratos?”
And deep in the cave’s entrance, Kharox lifted his head, ears pricked—because he heard it too.
It felt like I’d only been back asleep for a few minutes when I felt Jet shake me gently awake. “Can we talk for a minute? I found a private spot deeper inside.”
I rubbed a hand across my face, trying to wake up. “Of course.”
Pulling me to my feet, we walked silently deeper into the cave until we reached a small body of water with steam rising from it.
I couldn’t hold back my squeal of excitement, but Jet quickly covered my mouth with his large hand, almost concealing my entire face. “Shhh, angel, I don’t want the others to come looking for us.”
I nodded, and he removed his hand, “Sorry, I haven’t had a bath in days, and that water looks wonderful.”
“It’s safe. I checked it over before I woke you.” The big man suddenly looked bashful. “Do you want to take a dip with me?”
“Hell, yes, I do.” I started stripping off my torn, bloody clothes. When I saw he was just standing there, I looked at him, questioning. “Aren’t you coming in?”
He nodded, then said with reverence, “I’ve just never seen anything as beautiful as you.”
I blushed. I hadn’t thought about this being the first time for him to see me fully nude. I’d been too excited about the bath. “I wish you could’ve seen me before I had all of these scars.”
He walked over and pulled me into his arms. “Those scars tell a story of your bravery and strength. Before you were a stunning girl, now you’re an amazing woman, and I couldn’t be prouder that you chose me to stand by your side.”
I didn’t plan to kiss him.
But when his mouth brushed mine—just barely—something inside me unraveled.
The first touch was soft. Warm. Cautious. Like we were learning what the other liked. His lips moved against mine slowly, gently, tasting the moment. His hand slid to the back of my neck, fingers threading through my dark hair, and heat bloomed through me in a slow, sweet wave.
I kissed him back.
Tentative at first.
Then deeper.
His breath hitched, and something in him snapped loose.
His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.
The kiss grew hotter, hungrier. The kind of kiss that stole thought and breath and everything else.
Steam curled around us, and the spring hissed softly.
Jet pressed me lightly against the warm stone, not trapping me, just holding me with an unfathomable need.
His lips parted mine, tongues brushing in a slow, devastating slide that made my knees weak.
His hand cupped my jaw, tilting my head up to deepen the kiss, and I tasted every ounce of restraint he was trying—and failing—to keep.
He kissed like he wanted to memorize me.
Like he’d feared losing me.
Like he’d never be parted from me again.
When we finally pulled apart, foreheads still touching, breath mingling in the warm air, his voice was rough. “It’s my fault you’re here.”
My hand found his chest, feeling the wild beat beneath my palm. “That’s not true. It’s their fault, never yours.”
He leaned in again—just a whisper of a kiss, softer, almost reverent. “They’re going to die for that.”
“Yes, my love, they are.”
Jet’s thumb brushed my bottom lip once more, like he wasn’t done tasting me—or deciding if he wanted to take this further.
He must have reached a decision, because he quickly stripped off his clothes and then offered me his hand.
I took it while trying to pick my jaw up from the ground at the sight of his ripped body. Damn, this man was fine—muscles upon muscles and a face that would make angels weep.
His angel just might if he didn’t touch me soon.
The water was scorching, almost too hot, enveloping my skin as I dropped into the spring beside him.
The heat sank into my bones, easing the pain in my muscles and the tremor in my hands.
Jet stepped in front of me, his body just close enough that every tiny movement caused the water to swirl between us.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
He was watching me. Carefully. Hungrily. Like every breath I took might pull him apart.
“You’re staring,” I whispered.
His voice dropped into that low, unguarded place he rarely let anyone hear. “I’ve been staring since the moment I met you.”
I didn’t have time to breathe, much less answer, before he crossed the space between us. His hand slid beneath the water, fingers curling around my waist, guiding me toward him. Heat flared everywhere his skin touched mine.
His mouth found mine again, and this time, there was nothing slow about it.
The kiss hit hard—urgent, deep, all tongue, breath, and need. The water splashed softly as he pulled me close, my legs brushing his beneath the surface. Jet kissed as if he’d waited too long. His restraint had finally broken.
His free hand cupped the back of my head, tilting me into him. The other held my hip, dragging me flush against his chest, and I felt every hard line of him under the water. My fingers curled into his hair—wet, soft, perfect—and he groaned against my mouth, low and rough.
The heat of the water was nothing compared to him.
He kissed me more deeply, his lips parting mine, tongues tangling in slow, powerful strokes. Breathless. Dizzy. Hungry. Every time I pulled back for air, he chased after me—lips finding mine again, as if neither of us needed air to breathe.
“Jet,” I gasped against his mouth.
He kissed his name away. Then he pressed his forehead to mine, breath ragged. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered, voice shaking with how badly he didn’t want to.
My fingers slid down his chest beneath the water. “That’s not going to happen.”
That was all it took.
He lifted me, water slicking our bodies, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. The kiss deepened, harder, needier—his mouth claiming mine like he’d been drowning and only now could breathe.
We weren’t gentle anymore.
We were like fire in the water.
Heat and hunger and breathless want.
When he finally broke the kiss, both of us shaking, his lips brushed my ear. “I will never get tired of this,” he murmured. “Of you.”
And in that hidden spring, under stone and steam, I kissed him again—because the world outside was falling apart, and this was the one thing that felt unbreakable.