Chapter 30 To Be Here #2
“Hey.” I held my hands up where he could see them. “It’s me. It’s Seri.”
His gaze darted frantically around the room, not registering my presence or my words. His breath came in harsh, shallow pants, like he was drowning in open air. When his eyes finally locked on me, there was no recognition, only raw, animal panic.
“No. No, no, no—”
“Casimir. You’re safe.” I inched closer. “We’re at Evermere. Everyone’s okay.”
“Not real.” His hands fisted in the sheets, knuckles bleaching white. “I can’t lose— Don’t make me— Please, not again…”
“I’m right here.” I risked another inch closer even as my heart ached. “Amabel didn’t get me. You stopped her. You, Koa, and Zane. You all saved me.”
“Zane? Koa?” His voice cracked on their names.
“Both fine. They’re both perfectly safe.”
“I saw them die. I saw it. I saw—” His voice broke on a jagged inhale, his body trembling. “Zane is dead. Koa is dead. And my love is— My Seri is—”
“I’m alive.” I closed the remaining distance between us, kneeling before him. Slowly, I reached out one hand, and he stared at it. “Amabel’s been captured. She can’t hurt anyone now.”
Surprising me, he let me take his hand, and I guided it to my cheek, letting him feel the warmth of my skin, the wetness of the tears now falling freely.
A flicker of doubt crossed his face, the first crack in his certainty that this was just another cruel illusion, so I moved his palm to rest over my heart.
“Feel that? It’s beating. I’m alive. I’m real.”
“If this is a trick,” he growled, “I will find a way to kill you even in death.”
“Oh, Simmy,” I half-sobbed, half-smiled. “Always the protector, even when you’re the one needing protecting.”
“What did you call me?” The question held a universe of fragile hope.
“Simmy. You’re my Simmy.”
“Seri?” His breathing slowed a fraction. His eyes darted around the room, recognition dawning. “Evermere. Our bedroom. Zane? Koa?”
“They’re fine. Finishing breakfast before they take care of Amabel.”
“You’re really here? Not hurt?”
“I’m really here. Not hurt.” I smiled through my tears. “Although my heart hurts seeing you like this, Simmy.”
Something in him crumbled. His hand moved lightning-fast, fingers circling my wrists to verify I was there.
“You’re here,” he repeated, the words half-question, half-prayer.
“I’m here. All in one piece. Not a scratch on me.”
His hands released my wrists and went to my shoulders, my arms, my waist, every part he could reach, reassuring himself. His breathing was still too fast, too shallow. I shifted, wrapping my arms around him and pulling his head to my chest, cradling him like a child.
“Listen to my heartbeat, Simmy. Focus on that. Steady and strong, beating for you.”
For a long moment, we stayed that way, his ear pressed to my heart, my fingers threading through his tangled hair, his arms anchored around my waist. Gradually, his breathing began slow, deepening, becoming less desperate.
“That’s it. Come back to me.”
A shudder ran through him, different from before. Less fearful, more like a man surfacing from deep water.
“Serafina,” he breathed, and this time my name wasn’t a question but a recognition. “Sorry. I just— I need—”
“I know what you need.” I kissed the top of his head. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
As he relaxed, he leaned against me more and more until he was too heavy for me to support, and I shifted us until we were lying down, his head still pillowed on my chest, our arms still around each other.
“It felt so real,” he said after a long silence. “Every detail. The sound you made when—” His voice caught. “I couldn’t get to you. I was frozen. Just watching.”
“You got caught in her illusion web. Koko and Zoodle captured and contained her. I stayed in the SUV with Brummy the whole time until Koko came and got me.”
“They caught her.”
“Yes.”
“And nobody got hurt.”
“Well, Zoodle’s brain got a bit crispy around the edges, but we’re all okay.”
Casimir was quiet for a moment, then, “How’s Zane really?”
“Irritatingly fine. He complained that I wouldn’t let him have beer and wings for breakfast.”
“Sounds right.” A ghost of a smile touched his lips.
“How do you feel physically?” I stroked his hair back from his forehead, noting with relief that his skin felt cooler. The fever had broken sometime during the night. “Any pain?”
He took inventory for a moment.
“Muscles are sore. Like I’ve been running for days. Thirsty.”
“Mrs. Wentzel made you breakfast, and I brought it up here.”
He nodded, but didn’t move. Instead, his arms tightened around me.
“In a minute. Just stay like this a little longer?”
“As long as you need,” I promised.
We lay there in the quiet, the room filled only with the sound of our breathing gradually synchronizing and the soft rustle of fabric as his thumb traced absent patterns against my hip.
“Fighting monsters, facing down threats, that’s just adrenaline,” he said eventually, his voice steadier now, “But seeing you like that? That was real fear. The kind that hollowed me out from the inside.”
“I know the feeling. When you collapsed, when your fever spiked, I was terrified I might lose you.”
“You’re real.” His hand came up to cup my cheek, his touch reverent. “This is real.”
“I’m real. You’re real. What we have is real. Nothing Amabel or Arabesque or anyone else does can change that.”
“Say it again, my love.”
“We’re real.” I touched my forehead to his. “You, me, Zoodle, Koko, Brummy, all real. And what we’re building here is the realest thing I’ve ever known. It’s our ‘ohana, Simmy.”
A single tear tracked down his cheek, and I caught it with my thumb. To see him like this was both heart-wrenching and achingly precious.
“I don’t deserve you, Serafina.”
“Shut up, husband. You deserve everything good in this world.”
I kissed him gently, but with all the love and certainty I had in me.
His hand slid into my hair as he returned the kiss with equal tenderness.
When we parted, some color had returned to his face.
The panic had receded from his eyes, leaving behind exhaustion, but also alertness.
He was back, fully himself, although the shadows of his nightmare hadn’t completely vanished.
“Ready to eat now?” I asked.
He considered for a moment, then nodded, so I adjusted pillows behind his back as he sat up against the headboard, then fetched the tray and settled it across his lap.
He wrapped his hand around mine, his thumb pressing against my pulse point.
“Your heart. It’s beating.”
“It does that when I’m alive,” I agreed with a sad smile.
“Should have been more prepared.”
“How?” I challenged. “We’re fighting an enemy who breaks all the rules. We do our best, but we can’t anticipate everything.”
“Should have seen through the illusion. There were so many things that didn’t add up.”
“Harrow illusions don’t just fool your eyes, Simmy,” I explained quietly.
“They’re complete sensory immersion. Plus, they’re designed to distract you if you start to see through them.
I bet every time you noticed something wrong, someone moved or spoke or there was a new sensation.
I warned you that Amabel was an expert at illusionary magic. ”
“You weren’t kidding,” he muttered. “Still. I should have been better. Faster. Smarter—”
“Stop.” I laid my fingers over his lips. “You are enough. Your protection is enough. Your love is enough. I don’t need you to be perfect; I just need you to be here.”
“I will always be here,” he promised. “As long as I’m drawing breath, Serafina, I will be between you and anything that tries to harm you.”
“I know. I’m not afraid of what’s coming next because I have you. All three of you. Now how about you eat something?”
With a bit more coaxing, he ate his breakfast, making a face at bone broth instead of black coffee, just as I’d predicted.
His hand never left my wrist, though, and his thumb stayed tight against my pulse.
#
Zane
“Perhaps I could assist with the Harrow girl,” Lucian said, brushing invisible lint from his sleeve.
Lemme tell you, nothing kills a post-breakfast glow faster than your undead daddy dearest offering to help torture your wife’s psychotic stepsister.
Brummy’s delighted barks from outside did little to offset the way Pops’ cufflinks suddenly looked like miniature interrogation tools.
Through the window, I watched Addison lob a mangled soccer ball, Brumster’s tongue lolling as he chased after it, and the wholesome scene made our impending basement excursion feel extra stabby by comparison.
“I dunno, Pops.” I leaned back in my chair until the wood creaked. “Last time you ‘assisted’ us with something, we were fourteen and Casimir didn’t speak for a week after.”
The lie came easy. Truth was, Cas had screamed himself awake for three nights straight. But hey, who’s counting?
Koa went statue-still, his obsidian gaze fixed on the butter knife like it held the secrets of the universe. The tension in his shoulders could’ve cut diamond.
“Serafina deserves closure.” Lucian adjusted his already perfect tie. “And you require information.”
“I’m perfectly content with the ‘shoot first, questions never’ approach.” The basement key’s teeth felt like they were chewing through my pants pocket. “Besides, wouldn’t that break your truce with the house of Harrow?”
“I believe you’re quite aware that truce isn’t worth the paper it’s written on.” He rolled one shoulder in an elegant shrug.
Kaori cleared her throat, her nail polish glinting garnet-red as she set down her orange juice glass.
“I think I’ll spend some time in the library.”
“Help yourself,” I invited as Ko gave her a brief nod. Once she left, I looked at Lucian. “Fine, you can help, but don’t kill her before I get to monologue. It’s my favorite part of the show.”
“I would have thought your favorite part was turning someone’s mind inside out.” Lucian stood with a predator’s grace, all coiled lethality in a Tom Ford suit. “Shall we?”