Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Darius
I was running through the Forgotten Forest, faster than I’d ever moved before. Branches clawed at my arms. Mist curled around my ankles like ghostly fingers.
Something moved ahead of me. A shadow, darting between the twisted trees. Always just out of reach.
I had to catch it. I didn’t know why—only that if I didn’t, something terrible would happen. Something I couldn’t take back.
“Wait!” My voice echoed through the trees. “Stop!”
The shadow paused.
Slowly, it turned.
Blue eyes stared back at me. Bright and fierce and achingly familiar.
Pain brought me out of my restless dream.
I bit it back. Swallowed it down.
The cavern was quiet. No one had heard. No one knew.
But my heart was still racing. And I couldn’t shake the image of those blue eyes fading into nothing.
I turned my head, searching through the dim light until I found her. Alice lay on the cot nearby, her chest rising and falling softly.
Still here. Still breathing.
I exhaled slowly. But sleep didn’t come again.
After several moments I glanced over at Alice again—and stilled. She was awake. She watched me through half-lidded eyes, her blond hair tumbling across her face like spun gold.
For a split second, I imagined this. Waking up beside her. Seeing those blue eyes first thing every morning.
The thought should have terrified me. Instead, it settled into my chest like it belonged there.
Dangerous. That was dangerous thinking.
I cleared my throat. “Where is everybody?”
“Hunting. Gathering intel.” She shifted on her cot to face me. “Grump wants to know where Ari and the army went. Rabbit should be here in a couple of days.”
Good. If Rabbit was coming, we'd finally have a full picture of the queen's movements. But Ari still being out there with an army meant Alice wasn't safe. None of us were.
“How long have I been out?”
Every hour I'd been unconscious was another hour Flint and Steel were in the queen's hands. Another hour of torture. Another hour closer to execution.
“Ten hours. Maybe more.” Her eyes searched mine, and I felt it—that pull, that connection I’d been trying to ignore. “How are you feeling?”
“Like hell.” I gritted my teeth and tried to push myself up. My arms shook. My side screamed. I made it halfway before my body gave out and I fell back against the cot. “Like I want to get out of this damn cot and can’t.”
“Would you like some help?”
I sighed. I didn’t want to need it, but obviously I wasn’t getting up on my own. “Yes.”
She climbed out of her cot, wearing a blue tunic that matched the shade of her eyes. That blue. I’d seen it before—in the dream. It hung loose on her small frame, but somehow she made it look elegant.
“Put your arm around my shoulder,” she said.
“You can’t lift me.”
“Have a little faith.” She slipped her arm gently around my waist and braced herself. “Ready?”
Before I could answer, she edged backward, pulling me with her. She gritted her teeth, face flushing with the effort, and helped me sit upright.
Pain shot through my side. I released a loud hiss.
“Sorry.” She winced. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I’m fine,” I said gruffly.
But I wasn’t thinking about the pain anymore. I was thinking about how strong she was. How steady.
Damn her. She kept catching me off guard—making me feel things I’d forgotten a long time ago.
I dragged my fingers through my hair. “Could you get me some water?” Heat crept up my neck. “I’m not sure I can stand.”
“No, you probably shouldn’t. Getting you up off the floor would be ten times harder than getting you off the cot.” She left me and headed toward the small waterfall that fed fresh water into the cavern.
Her hips swayed with each step. I couldn’t look away. The memory of her in that corset—half dressed, breathless—flashed through my mind. How much I’d wanted to trace my hands over her skin. Not that I could do anything about it now. I could barely lift my arms without wanting to pass out.
She dipped a metal mug into the pool and filled it.
I ran my tongue over my dry lips. Thirst burned inside me. I didn’t know whether it was for the water or for Alice.
Caterpillar’s word drifted through my mind. Love.
How could he say that? How could he claim I was in love with Alice? I didn’t believe in fated mates or love at first sight. What I felt was attraction—nothing more. And gratitude. She’d nearly died saving me; of course I felt something.
But love? That required trust. Vulnerability. Things I’d stopped believing in years ago.
The Elder Dimension was filled with fake promises. I wouldn’t fall for them again.
Alice came back with the mug and a piece of wanderbread with a slab of butter on it. More than ordinary bread—one piece could sustain a man for days. She handed them to me. “Here. I thought you might be hungry.”
I cast my gaze over her tunic. It was too big for her—obviously one of the men's—but somehow that made it worse. The fabric draped over her curves, hinting at the body underneath. The body I'd seen half bare in that bathroom. “Where did you get that?”
“Archer.” She sat down on her cot. “He’s the only one whose clothes didn’t completely swallow me. Why doesn’t he ever speak?”
I gobbled down the wanderbread while watching her straighten her blankets.
The bread tasted buttery and savory—just what I liked.
It always did. Wanderbread changed its flavor to suit the eater.
Already I could feel the strength seeping back into my limbs.
Not enough to fight, but enough to stop feeling like a corpse.
I cleared my throat. “He’s taken a vow of silence. He won’t speak until the queen is overthrown and the rightful heir is king.”
Alice went still. “He gave up his voice? For a cause that might never happen?”
“He believes it will.” I shrugged, though something in my chest tightened. Archer had been silent for years. Years of swallowing words, of watching and waiting, of holding onto hope when the rest of us had let it flicker. “He’s the most stubborn man I know. And maybe the bravest.”
“You mean Grump should be king?”
“He’s firstborn. It’s his birthright.” I met her eyes. “Archer believes that. Enough to stay silent until it’s true.”
She was quiet for a moment. “That’s…really noble.” She stood. “I’m going to get dressed. Do you need anything else?”
I needed to get out of this cot. Needed to check on my men, plan our next move, do something other than lie here like an invalid. But my body wasn't cooperating and asking her for help felt like admitting defeat.
“No. Not right now.”
She headed toward the back of the cavern. Someone had hung curtains there, creating a makeshift dressing area. That hadn’t been there before.
Grump probably. Reverence for women was one of his traits—chivalrous to his core.
Something that wasn’t my forte.
What I wanted next was a shower and clean clothes. Maybe if I washed off the sweat and blood, I’d feel more like myself.
I put my hands on the cot and tried to push myself up. My arms shook. I collapsed back onto the thin mattress, my side screaming in protest.
“Fuck,” I grumbled.
Alice emerged from behind the curtain, and my breath caught.
She looked like one of my men. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail. A belt cinched the tunic at her waist, and the tights hugged her legs, revealing lean muscle I hadn’t noticed before.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. This was the woman who’d climbed down a ten-story tree and stopped time twice.
She hurried over to me. “What’s wrong?”
“I tried to get up.”
She scowled. “I thought we established that walking would end in disaster.”
“I don’t want to stay in this damn cot.” I gritted my teeth. “I want a shower. Clean clothes. I feel disgusting.”
She was quiet for a moment, chewing her lip. “I can’t carry you to where the men shower. But...” A flush crept up her cheeks. “I could bring water here. Wash you. If you’d let me.”
The offer sent my thoughts in a dangerous direction. Her hands. My skin. Water and heat and—no. I couldn't let her see me this weak. Couldn't risk what might happen if she touched me and I couldn't do a damn thing about it.
"I'll manage."
She turned without a word. Just walked over to the waterfall and filled two bowls with water. She draped a towel over her arm, grabbed two bottles, and brought everything back.
Her movements were efficient. Careful. Like she was helping a stranger.
I hated it. Minutes ago she'd been looking at me like I mattered. Now there was a wall between us, and I'd built it myself.
She placed them on a small nightstand next to my cot. “If you need any help, let me know.”
A small smile flickered across her face—not quite warm, but not cold either. A truce, maybe.
“I’ll be fine.” I dipped the cloth into one bowl and pressed it to my side. Fire ripped through the wound, sharp, and relentless. Shit, this fucking sucked.
“Darius, you’re going to hurt yourself. Just let me help you.” She crossed her arms, exasperation written all over her face.
I wanted to argue. But the truth was, I wasn't sure I could handle her hands on me right now. Not when I was this vulnerable. Not when every touch would remind me how much I wanted more than I could have.
“Do it.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Excuse me?”
I winced—not from the wound this time. That had come out wrong. Like she was a soldier under my command, not someone offering kindness.
“I’m sorry. I’m not used to being this helpless.”
Her expression shifted—the exasperation fading into something gentler. She poured something from one of the bottles into the bowl. The scent rose up—fresh, clean, like a dewy bouquet of slumberbell flowers. My shoulders loosened without my permission.
She dipped the rag into the water, wrung it out, and pressed it to my back.
I closed my eyes. Her touch was featherlight as she moved the cloth across my skin. Careful. Each stroke washing away more than just dirt and sweat.
I didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve her.
Alice rinsed the rag in the clean water, then moved it down my shoulder, along my arm. Soft. Slow.
Since I’d been here, I’d never experienced anything this tender.
She leaned closer, and I caught her scent—that familiar green freshness, like a spring shower in the mountains. My gaze drifted to her lips without my permission.
God, I missed those lips. Missed the taste of her. Missed the way she’d melted into me when I kissed her.
She moved to my other arm and paused. Her eyes lifted to mine, catching me staring. A flush crept up her cheeks, but she didn't look away. “I’m going to clean around your wound. If it hurts too much, tell me and I’ll stop.”
I nodded and lifted my arm. Sharp pain ripped through my side, and I winced.
Alice pressed the cloth gently against my wound, dabbing around the bandages.
A hiss escaped through my teeth before I could stop it.
She froze. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
“I’m fine.” Damn it. She was being gentle—more gentle than I deserved—and I’d made her flinch like she’d done something wrong.
“You keep saying that.” Her voice was soft. Sad. “But you’re not fine. You almost died.”
She dipped the rag in the water again and began moving the cloth across my chest. Slow circles. Her fingers brushed my skin beneath the cloth and heat spread through me that had nothing to do with the water.
I tried to look away. Failed. My gaze traced the curve of her jaw, the soft part of her lips. Dangerous territory.
Her hand stilled. She leaned closer. My breath caught. Was she…? Her brows furrowed as she studied my skin. Not a kiss. She was looking at something. Right. Of course. “Is that a tattoo of the hat on your pec?”
“All my men have this,” I said. “It marks us as family. Even the Uncrowned Seven have it.”
She traced the outline with her fingertip—barely a whisper of touch—and my breath caught. Not from pain. Not from hot desire. Just… want.
Simple and strange.
I searched her face for any sign she'd noticed the hitch in my breathing, the way my muscles tensed under her touch. Her expression stayed focused on the tattoo. I forced my body to relax, willing my face into something neutral.
Her hand fell away, and she returned to the rag, but something in her movements had changed. Slower. Heavier.
I missed her touch immediately. Which was ridiculous. She was still touching me—just not like that.
She sighed. “It must be nice to have such a strong connection.”
“Didn’t you have that with your coven?”
“No, I’ve never been accepted. The only reason I wasn’t expelled was because of Tinker Bell. Even witches don’t tolerate a witch not in control of her power.”
Something in my chest tightened. Never been accepted. She said it like a fact. Like it was etched in stone. Like something she’d long stopped fighting against.
I knew that feeling. The way loneliness could become so familiar it stopped feeling like pain and started feeling like home. The way you learned to stop reaching for belonging because the rejection hurt worse than the emptiness.
And here she was, washing the blood from a demon king’s skin—gentle hands on a monster’s body—and still she thought herself the dangerous one.
She leaned closer, concentrating on her work. Her warm breath brushed over my collarbone. Her lips were inches away. So close I could see the soft pink of them, could remember exactly how they tasted.
I couldn’t stop myself.
I slipped my hand around the back of her neck and pulled her closer.
She stiffened. The rag stopped moving. She pulled back slightly, putting inches between us that felt like miles. “Darius, what are you doing?”
“Kissing you.”
“But you said—“
“I know what I said.” My thumb traced along her jaw. “I was an idiot.”