43
Finn
I’ve nearly paced a trench into the floor of my rooms by the time Soleil returns.
She eases the door open slowly, tentatively, with a quiet knock, as if she’s not sure she has the right to come in.
Crossing the room in a few swift strides, I pull her into my arms.
“What happened?” I ask, the words a bit muffled against her hair.
“Esme wants me back at the coven hall immediately.”
My heart sinks, but I make myself nod. “It was what you suspected, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah. I guess I just… wanted to pretend I could ignore it forever.”
“And what are you going to do?”
She can’t answer me for a few long moments. She paces away, crosses the room, and steps out onto the balcony. The brisk autumn air catches her curls, and the afternoon sunshine brings out unexpected streaks of brown and auburn.
I follow, standing there beside her wanting just as badly to pretend none of this is happening.
The silence stretches so long that my better judgment grows thin. My restraint reaches a perilous edge, and despite knowing it’s entirely selfish, I can’t stop myself from speaking.
“Stay here.”
Soleil’s eyes snap to mine. “What?”
“Stay,” I say again. “Here. With me.”
“I… I can’t… I couldn’t just…”
“Why not?”
Her face crumples, and the sheen of tears washes across her eyes before she blinks them away.
The sight of those tears hits me squarely in the chest.
I never want to see her cry.
When I reach for her, she comes easily into my arms, burying her face against my chest and nestling closer when I draw my wings forward around her.
Goddess, I’d keep her here forever if I could.
Safe in my arms, protected, right by my side for the rest of my days.
The want is so keen I keep speaking, keep digging my grave deeper shovel by shovel, knowing it likely won’t make one damn bit of difference.
“I can see how much it’s tearing you apart, sunshine,” I tell her gently, a finger under her chin to tip her face up toward mine. “If it was truly something you wanted, wouldn’t it be easier than this?”
A flash of indignation in my witch’s eyes, of challenge, of that same stubborn streak she’s had since the very beginning.
“It’s not that simple.”
“Perhaps not,” I allow, not ready to concede the point completely. “But you came here for something. You left the coven for something. You didn’t have to do that, but you chose it.”
Soleil steps away, and the empty space she leaves behind is like a physical ache.
“Maybe I just needed the reminder,” she says. “The time I spent in the mountains working with Vayla, and in Gales Harbor, it reminded me what I love about my craft. It made me remember everything I want to accomplish when I Ascend.”
Is that all this was to her?
A way to temporarily escape her life?
Some sort of reset, a pause to remind her she was always going to walk away from me?
I can’t ask the questions. As much as my heart aches and as conflicted as I feel, I can’t let the words out without them becoming ugly accusations.
And my witch doesn’t deserve that.
Certainly not from me—a demon with no foot to stand on when it comes to duty and responsibility and having people depend on me.
But, perceptive as ever, Soleil seems to read at least a little of that conflict on my face.
“It’s not you, Finn,” she says, and though she sounds sincere, I can’t quite believe her.
If I had more to offer, maybe she would stay.
If I was enough, she wouldn’t need to leave.
Deep down, I know it’s not true. I know there’s more to my witch’s life than me, that she’s got so much waiting for her back in her realm.
And yet.
I didn’t expect how much it would hurt.
My heart, breaking.
My mate, ready to walk away from me and the life we could have.
My future—a future I didn’t even know existed barely a week ago—entirely uncertain.
“And I’m… not deciding anything,” she continues. “Not right now. I just need to go back and talk to Esme.”
The look in her eyes doesn’t match the words she’s saying.
She looks… resolved. As if she’s already decided and now she’s just trying to delay the consequences.
“When do you have to leave?”
A beat of silence, and I have my answer.
Perhaps this is better.
Having it over and done with rather than dragging it out.
The agony of setting a broken limb back into place rather than wallowing in pain.
No point in delaying the inevitable.
“I should go pack my things,” she whispers, turning to head back into the bedroom before I can say a word.
Leave your things here if you mean to come back. Leave as much here as you’d like, I don’t mind.
Again, I swallow the words I’d like to say, and I’ve got nothing to do with myself but follow her, hovering in the doorway as she shoves item after item into her enchanted satchel. It all disappears neatly, gone in an instant with no trace, as if she were never here at all.
When she’s finished, she gives the room a final once-over, searching for anything she might have left behind.
Then she turns to face me, and I have to look away.
“Can I bring you to the Veil?” I ask, contemplating my own feet because looking into her beautiful eyes might break me.
“Seren is going to portal me down there,” Soleil says quietly. “She said she had something to give me before I go, and she’s developed her portalling abilities since she…”
Since she sealed her mate bond. Since she chose to be with Callum for the rest of her days.
“I’ll be back,” she continues. “Soon, I hope. Once I speak to Esme and get everything figured out, I’ll be back.”
“Alright, sunshine,” I tell her, because what else can I say?
I offer her the best smile I can manage, open my arms to see if she wants a parting embrace.
Soleil rushes toward me, landing with a hard thump against my chest.
When she speaks, her words are laced with unshed tears. “I’ll be back, Finn. I promise.”
When? I want to ask. For how long? And when you return, how much of you will I be able to have? What crumbs will be left for me?
Too many things I can’t say. Too many selfish wants I can’t put on her.
So all I do is hold her, savor the moments until she has to say goodbye.