34. EMBER
EMBER
“There it is.” I exhale.
After the longest year of my life, the Ancient Castle looms before us, its spires are a dark silhouette against the dusky violet sky.
“Race ya?” Roman yells. He insisted on coming again this year. He wants to get to know the man who will steal me away from him — his words, not mine. Although, I half expect it’s because of that secret library and Wise allowing him to hang out in there.
“Oh no, I’m not falling for that again.” Even though Roman and I have been more active this year than ever before.
I’ve made sure we’ve learned to trap and hunt even in the snow.
Mentally preparing myself to be fit to leave the comfort of the cave and know that Roman can survive without me.
But I still have nightmares about these stairs of death, so I shift into my wolf and take the stairs two and three at a time, paws pounding on stone.
I see no sign of Thorn or the Aurora pack, though they were the last to arrive last year.
My stomach twists. I’ve been anticipating seeing him all year.
Countless dreams of him circulate in my head as I look up at the spires cresting the cliffside.
The last time I saw him, he was bleeding and limping, and his whole pack was turning against him.
I hope he survived the year. But, even more important, I hope he didn’t take another lover after I made my decision.
A decision I regretted as soon as the words left my mouth.
After waiting all year for him, finding out that he’s already mated would be devastating.
After the zillion rows of stairs inside the Ancient Castle, Roman and I grab our old room. Mainly, I suspect, because Roman knows about the secret door that leads out to the valley, and as soon as we arrive, he asks, “How many other secret doors are there?”
“I’m not sure. You were the one reading all those books, you didn’t find it in them?”
“I bet there are hundreds, and the only people who know about them are those who built them. And they are all dead.”
“So, there could be millions,” I antagonize.
His eyes light up. A year older and his childlike, adventurous spirit never leaves him. Meanwhile, a whole year back at the cave was spent dreaming of a life I could have had. A mate I could have had, and wondering if I messed everything up.
“You have that face again.” Roman leaps onto the bed.
“What face?”
“The ‘I’m dreaming of Thorn’ face.” He snorts.
“I do not have a face like that.”
“You do, it looks like this…” he puckers his lips, looks upward, and flutters his eyelashes.
I grab a dusty book off the bookshelf by the door and toss it at him. He catches it, still jumping on the bed, dust filters from it like snow. The sight reminds me of Thorn’s white coat in his wolf form.
“Good gods, there it is again.” He groans. “I’m going to find Cullen.”
Then he slams the door behind him. Leaving me with the ghost of year-old memories to haunt me and praying that Thorn will arrive alive and not already mated.