Chapter 46
Renata
Turning onto my back, I stretch my stiff, sore muscles. The curtains are open but the room is dark, lit only by a few random candles. The musky scent and warm chest next to me are the only part of my surroundings I want to focus on.
Running a hand along his jaw, I take in the handsome sight for a long moment. Two weeks felt like an eternity away from him.
His breathing is deep and steady, so I carefully crawl out of bed and go to the restroom. After I’ve taken care of my needs, I stand in front of the mirror and take in the hollow, exhausted face staring back at me.
In a weird way, it’s the most I’ve ever thought I looked like Petra.
I’m closer to finally finding myself than I ever have been though.
Archer is sitting up in bed, looking around disheveled, until his eyes land on me. Then he lets out a breath of relief, and I run back to the bed, throwing myself into his lap.
“Renata,” he murmurs into my hair. “Fuck, I am so happy to see you—awake.”
“I didn’t think you’d be back so soon,” I say, but it comes out muffled against his chest.
I’m not sure how long I was out. There’s no way it could have been more than a day. I hope.
“Neither did I,” he says. “Surprisingly, Calista was… Decent, for lack of a better word.”
Pulling back I look at his bright blue eyes. “Calista?” I ask in a terse tone.
He chuckles and kisses my cheek. “Don’t spend a second worrying your pretty mind, Little Wisp.
” I roll my eyes and push us until his back hits the bed and I’m laying on top of him.
“Her life has been sad, if I’m honest. Obviously, she does a lot of shady things, but most of what we heard about her seems to be wrong. ”
Sitting up to get a better look at him, I ask, “What do you mean? What did you learn?”
“Not a lot. It feels like there was more to her words. Like she wanted me to read between the lines. I’m just not… I’m not understanding.”
He goes over his visit with her. Since we saw each other in our dreams every night, he’s able to skip to the part when he found the cottage.
All of it is new information to me. My mom and Agatha never talked about Calista, at least not in front of us.
They only discussed the logistics of the trip.
I didn’t even have an idea what she looked like.
No matter how hard I try, I can’t help but let the sympathy grow for her.
Yes, she’s a demon. But the parts of her life she shared with Archer… She’s a female. One who has been scorned, banished, and hunted.
We both know Nestor had a wandering eye based on Petra’s journals. It’s easy to believe that his attention was swayed by a beautiful, unfamiliar face.
I hate how angry it makes me. It slowly morphs into betrayal, and for once, I’m positive these are my emotions, not Petra’s.
“What’s wrong?” Archer asks once he gets to how she promised he would be returning and would bring exactly what she needs.
“I don’t know. It’s stupid.” I shrug, trying to downplay it.
With his thumb and forefinger, he angles my chin up. “I bet it’s not.”
On a sigh, I admit, “I can’t help feeling hurt by Nestor.
I don’t know… He was the first family member who took somewhat of an interest in me.
It doesn’t matter that he’s dead.” In some ways, my magic made me closer to him because of that.
“After reading about his feelings for Cassia, I never thought that he’d…
He’d abandon them. Technically three different women,” I emphasize.
With a rueful smile, he asks, “Is that a little sympathy for the succubus?”
Lying so we’re chest to chest, I rest my chin on my hands. “Unfortunately, I am.”
“She said Nestor stole from her, so maybe he was hoping to go back in time to save Cassia,” Archer offers but it’s a fragile attempt.
“Maybe…” I trail off, thinking about every detail of his visit. “How did you get back so quickly?”
“She can create a portal,” he says, a little in awe. “It’s nothing I’ve seen before. Her fireplace led me straight back to the inn—to you.”
“That’s impossible…” I mutter, thinking back to all the visits when my mother and Agatha returned much sooner than they should have. “Yet it makes so much sense.”
He shakes his head. “I’ll admit, she has much of my gratitude for bringing me here when she did.”
“I hate how much I don’t hate her,” I say.
He chuckles and rubs his hands up and down my back. “There’s something I need to tell you. Kind of.”
Slowly, I push off his chest again and sit, looking down on him. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing bad, I promise. Her only interest in me was my connection to the inn.” I let out a breath of relief, but my muscles are still coiled tight. “There’s information about the visit I can’t tell you.”
My eyebrows raise. “She compelled you?”
He nods once.
“Was it about her garden?”
He nods again. This time I can see him forcibly biting back the words. He grows frustrated and shakes his head roughly.
“Shh,” I soothe and run my hands along his skin. “It’s okay, Archer. I trust you. There’s nothing we need from her garden anyway. We have enough everoot for Clover and Clementine, if the illness presents itself.”
He takes a deep breath and pulls me into his chest.
“I’m more confused than ever before, Renata,” he admits. “I believe my death is inevitable.”
In the wake of his confession, I whisper, “I’m scared, Archer.”
We stay like that for a long time—his arms around me while I nuzzle in as close as I can get to him and stare out the window. As the silence drags on, my blood pumps with my churning thoughts.
“I want the bond,” I say suddenly, as soon as I’ve gained the confidence. I don’t want it to flit away just as quickly.
He sits up, pulling me with him. Leaning back on the headboard, Archer opens his mouth, then closes it a few times. There’s less surprise in his expression than I expected, more so concern.
“I want that, Renata. So badly.” He swallows and adds, “I hate knowing what it means for you.”
It means if I were to change my mind—somehow able to live after his death—I doubt I’d be able to survive it. Edmond passed away from a broken heart within a week of Cordelia, and I’d most likely be no different.
What Archer and I share is already deeper, more spiritual, than anything most witches find in their lifetimes.
Throughout the years of abuse from my mother and judgement from my sisters, I have never been suicidal.
I never wanted to die—no, I wanted to live.
I wanted to be free and to be loved. From the moment I saw Archer’s face and heard the low, husky voice that followed me into my dreams, I knew there was no other choice.
I don’t want to die, but I can’t live without him either.
“It means I’ll find you,” I quietly promise. “Our souls will be connected, so we won’t ever have to be separated as long as we’re on the same plane of existence.”
“You can change your mind,” he says. It’s gentle and affectionate, but the heartbreak is dripping off his tongue. “You can decide to live and find me in a few decades. Hell, it could be a century, and I’d still be waiting if it meant you got to live.”
Shaking my head, I brush my lips against his. “I want to be with you, wherever that is.”
He runs a hand up to the back of my head and kisses me like it’s the last time he’ll have the chance to.
“We’ll make the bond this week,” he says with resolution. “I’ll talk to Gale about the… easiest way to go about this.”
Nodding, I say, “Okay. We all need to talk about yesterday, and Calista. But I don’t want to tell them about the bond.”
“I agree. I don’t want to get Sybil’s hopes up.”
I don’t want to cause false hope for anyone in the coven. They may never understand why I’m doing this, knowing Archer will soon be in the afterlife.
When there aren’t any more words to say, we lose ourselves in each other’s bodies for a few hours.
The soft touches and slow kisses light a fire between our souls.
It’s not rushed or frantic. Each touch is intentional—a thousand promises of what’s to come, and silent comfort of what we still have to lose.
We spend one more night pretending that the fates aren’t waiting for us tomorrow.