Chapter 41
Forty-One
Kaius
Rowan steps into the ruin of the watchtower with his coat torn, his hair plastered to his face from rain. He looks hollowed out, yet there’s something sharp in his eyes, something alive I haven’t seen in months.
But she is not with him.
I’m on my feet before I realize it, fury already clawing its way up my throat.
“I felt it, Rowan. I felt it. The bond flaring like fire. And she isn’t here. So tell me,” My grip tightens on his coat. “Whose bed did you crawl into this time?”
His eyes flash. “Don’t you dare.”
“Don’t I dare?” The laugh rips from me, jagged and cruel. “You expect me to believe you weren’t sinking your claws into some poor soul, feeding that hunger of yours, while I—” My voice cracks, fury bleeding into anguish. “While I waited. While I grieved her.”
Rowan’s jaw clenches. His hands shove against me, but I pin him harder, my rage the only thing keeping me from collapsing.
“Say it,” I hiss. “Say you used her memory as an excuse to sate yourself.”
“Enough!”
The word lashes through the chamber, raw enough to stagger me.
Rowan shoves me back with more strength than I expect, his chest heaving.
His eyes burn like storm light, and for a heartbeat I see the echo of wings that no longer exist. “Do you think so little of me?” he growls, voice breaking.
“Do you think I would crawl into another’s arms when I’ve bled across the world for her? When every breath I took was for her?”
The door groans open.
And she’s there. She’s real.
Every part of me that has withered since the Well, every piece of me that has clawed at shadows in vain, collapses at the sight of her standing there. Pale, trembling, rain-slick, but alive.
“Adelasia,” I breathe, the name tearing from me like a wound reopening.
My legs move before my mind catches up. One moment she’s across the room, the next my hands are cupping her face, terrified she’ll vanish if I blink. Her skin is warm, damp, trembling beneath my palms.
She gasps, tears spilling over, and presses into me with a sob that cracks me wide open.
I crush her against me, burying my face in her hair, clutching her so tightly it must hurt, but I cannot let go. Not again. Not ever.
“You’re here,” I whisper, my voice breaking apart as I crash my lips to hers. I taste her tears. I taste her life.
Every kiss is agony and salvation; every sound she makes a knife through my heart. I press my forehead to hers, panting, broken.
“I love you,” she sobs, clutching me tighter. Her lips find mine again, desperate, and I give her everything I have left.
For the first time since the Well, I feel alive.