31. Chapter 31
Chapter thirty-one
Sound reached her first—low voices, half-heard through the haze in her skull.
“We have to wait for her.”
“We don’t know how long she’ll be out.”
“Won’t be long. She got extremely lucky.”
The voices echoed, bouncing off stone. Cold seeped into her back, a dull ache radiating from her spine and ribs. The cellar. They were back in the cellar.
She ran her tongue over her teeth, expecting jagged edges and the copper tang of blood.
Nothing. Her teeth were whole, her mouth clean.
Had she imagined the whole thing? Her fingers flexed against something warm.
A hand—bigger than any of her friends’, rough with calluses worn deep into the skin. Not Ursula. Not Aeren.
Her eyelids dragged open, still heavy, still fighting her. Something coarse and damp smeared across her face, the warm scent of fur and earth filling her nose as a massive tongue swiped up her cheek.
“Ahhh! Gross.” She tried to lift her arm to shove it away, but her muscles only gave a feeble wiggle.
Heat followed every pass, sinking through her skin, into the muscle beneath, like warm water soaking into frozen earth. The throbbing in her jaw eased first, then the tightness along her ribs, her body knitting itself back together under the Corgi’s patient, methodical attention.
“Stay still. Your brain’s still scrambled,” Lara growled between licks, her tongue dragging over Emmaline’s cheek.
“Was it ever not scrambled?”
The answer came from the other side, unmistakable.
Deyric. Her whole body locked. Even the air felt heavier, harder to pull into her lungs.
She turned her head toward the voice, every movement stiff and stubborn, her neck protesting the stretch like rusted hinges grinding open. Her vision blurred, tears welling fast and hot. He wasn’t supposed to be here. She’d done everything to keep him out of this.
“Deyy…” Her tongue still felt too thick, too numb, mangling his name into something broken and unfinished.
Her eyelids fluttered, and she saw him crouched next to where she lay on the ground, caught between shadow and lantern light.
His face was half in profile, jaw set tight, but his eyes—when they found hers—held the weight of something broken but not gone, like a string pulled so thin it should’ve snapped, but somehow still held.
Impossible. There shouldn’t have been anything left between them. A broken bond didn’t leave ghosts behind. Everyone knew that.
His grip slipped away, fingers pulling briefly into fists before he shoved them into his pockets and stepped back.
“You’re alive.” His nod was small, more to himself than anyone else. “Good.”
Emmaline grabbed Lara’s thick fur and clawed her way up, coughing as the Corgi let out a low, put-upon grunt.
“Oh, for the love of bones, you’re ruining the shine,” Lara grumbled, twisting her head to glare up at Emmaline. “Do you know how long it’s going to take to get blood, cellar dust, and whatever that smell is out of my coat?”
“Deyric. What are you doing here?” Emmaline panted, using the Corgi like a furry crutch until she could brace against the nearest wine rack.
From across the room, the man folded his arms. “Well, you almost got my sister killed. What was I supposed to do?”
“Oh, shut it.” Aeren strode into view, closing on Deyric in three hard steps.
“You could have been here to help.” Both her palms hit his chest, shoving him back until his shoulders smacked the wall.
“If you weren’t so godsdamned blind and stubborn.
” She pressed against him, then raised a fist and let it drop against his chest in a half-hearted punch. “You should have been here.”
“Debatable,” Ursula drawled, her face emerging from the dark, shadows clinging to her skin like a second cloak. “Apparently, we’re turning Kill the Lord Night into an open invitation.”
Emmaline squinted into the gloom, trying to find her, but the shadows didn’t behave the way they should. They clung too thick, too heavy as Ursula’s magic bled into the room's edges.
“Don’t mind her.” Margo stepped up beside Aeren, nudging her aside with a bump of her hip, and slipped both of Deyric’s hands into hers. “Ursula’s just not used to sharing. It’s usually just the five of us.” She looked down and blew Lara a kiss. “Including the beast.”
“You’re alive.” Emmaline tried to step toward Margo, but her legs buckled, forcing her to grab onto the wine rack again for balance. The wood creaked under her grip, cold sweat prickling down her spine.
“Thanks to you.” Margo glanced over her shoulder. “We’ll talk later about how spectacularly foolish that was.”
“Margo—” Emmaline started, but Margo had already turned back to Deyric. Her gaze traced over him, slow and assessing, like someone weighing whether a shattered vase was worth gluing back together, or if it was beyond saving.
“Well.” Deyric shifted under the weight of her attention. “Your other friend, the dark and scary one, won’t have to worry about company much longer. Aeren and I are leaving the second Caelith is dead. You won’t see either of us ever again.”
“You don’t speak for me.” Aeren’s hand snapped up, but Margo caught her wrist before she could land the hit, lowering it with gentle, deliberate pressure.
Margo’s gaze stayed locked on Deyric. “Is that really what you want? To never see any of us again?”
“You’re all insane.” His shoulders tensed like he was bracing for another shove. “I have to keep Aeren safe.”
Margo stepped closer, fingers trailing down his arm. “That’s not an answer. What do you want?”
His chin lifted so fast she almost missed it—just the briefest snap of his eyes finding hers before slamming back down to the floor.
“It doesn’t matter what I want.” His voice scraped raw.
“Then or now. She made the choice for both of us.” His lips pulled back, teeth bared. “She broke whatever we might have had.”
The words hit like a fist to the ribs. Emmaline could barely breathe. She’d braced herself for his anger, for bitterness, even for hate, but hearing it out loud, cold and final, still hurt more than she was ready for.
Margo’s fingers closed hard around his face, her grip nothing like the soft, graceful woman she usually showed the world. That mask slid off in a flash, leaving only sharp edges and the dangerous steel underneath.
“Look around you, Deyric.” She yanked his head toward the darkness thickening at the edges of the room where Ursula’s magic still flared into the stone. “Look at where we are. Look at what we’ve done. What we’re going to do.”
She didn’t give him a chance to answer before jerking his face back, forcing him to look directly at Emmaline.
“Look at her.”
He fought it, shoulders twisting, head jerking like he could physically break her hold, but Margo didn’t let go.
“Stop,” Emmaline whimpered. She couldn’t stand to see him forced into this. She deserved his anger, his hate, every ounce of it.
Margo ignored her, nails digging into Deyric’s skin, her knuckles white with strain.
“Does she look like someone who wanted to break your bond?” Her voice dropped lower with every word, trembling—not from fear, but from the sheer effort of holding herself back.
“Or does she look like a woman who, against everything we know about mating bonds, still loves you? Who risked everything to punish the real monster. And to protect you.”
Her breath came faster, harsh enough to catch at the edges, the polished veneer cracking wide open to expose something feral underneath. “And you dare stand there and judge her? You want insane?” Her smile bent. “I’ll show you insane.”
Margo plucked a slender pin from her hair, the silver catching light like a blade. She pressed the point just under his jaw.
“Margo!” Aeren grabbed Margo’s wrist with both hands and yanked her back hard.
“Enough. We’ve all made the shitty decisions that got us here.
” Her voice was calmer, but she didn’t release the other woman.
“Believe me, I feel for Emmaline. I do. But she broke the bond. That should’ve killed him.
Can you blame him for being pissed? For wanting to get away? ”
Emmaline barely heard them. Everything outside the edges of her vision had faded into static, her whole world narrowing to Deyric’s emerald eyes because, this time, he didn’t look away.
She exhaled, and somewhere, or everywhere, a bell rang. Soft at first, so high-pitched it was more a shimmer in the air than a sound.
A breeze brushed Emmaline’s cheek, cool and barely there, just enough to raise the fine hairs along her skin. It shouldn’t have been possible. They were deep underground, the air thick and stale with wine and stone dust. But the breeze was real. She felt it.
Deyric felt it, too. She could see it in the way his head snapped up, and his eyes widened, raising a hand to his cheek. But Margo and Aeren kept arguing, oblivious.
The shadows shifted, pooling and stretching, and from their depths, She stepped forward.
It was Cassidy, who had probably been in the back room with Ursula—but not Cassidy.
Her body moved like a marionette on threads, each motion too smooth, too inevitable, like the bones beneath her skin had forgotten they belonged to a mortal.
Your task is nearly complete.
The voice didn’t come from Cassidy’s mouth.
It came from Emmaline’s own chest, vibrating deep in her ribs as though something had wrapped its fingers around her heart and squeezed.
It poured through her—lush and golden, sunlight thick enough to drown in—each beam edged with something darker, the scrape of nails on bone, a lullaby hummed at the mouth of a grave.
Emmaline closed her eyes, then opened them, and she felt, no, saw the Goddess blink with her—one eye blazing white, the other a pit of endless black. Life and death. Light and darkness. All steeped in blood.
Finish it.
The words slammed through her skull. She gasped, hands flying to her ears, trying to block it out, but the sound wasn’t coming from the room. It was inside her.
She forced her eyes open, vision swimming, and found Deyric staring back. He was looking at her, and through her, and at something far beyond her all at once. His face mirrored hers—stunned, shaken—but he nodded, tears shimmering unshed.
What was broken can be mended. In blood.
The Goddess’s words rang between them, a verdict passed, a sentence laid down.
Emmaline’s legs shook, her whole body folding under the weight of it. Not again, she thought.
The floor tilted, rushing up to meet her, and suddenly his hands were there, sliding under her arms, pulling her upright before her knees hit the stone.
One arm slid around her waist, holding her with effortless strength, while his free hand found her face, thumb touching her cheek, tracing over her skin like he was seeing her for the very first time.
“You want this?” Deyric cupped her face, not gently, but like she might disappear if he let go, his fingers sinking into her tangled hair, holding her still. “You want me?”
Emmaline’s hands fisted in his jacket, the only solid thing between her and falling apart. She searched his face. Was this some cruel trick? Another punishment from the Goddess who seemed to delight in dangling happiness just out of reach?
“Emmaline.” His brow furrowed. “There won’t be another chance. If… if you want this, you have to say it.”
Her breath left her in a shuddering exhale. Even if this was a trick, even if the Goddess was watching and laughing, it didn’t matter. Not if it meant seeing him look at her like that—like she was the only thing he wanted in this broken world. She’d say anything to keep him from turning away.
“I want you—everything you’ll give me.” She dragged him closer. “I’ll take it like the greedy lunatic I am. I’ll worship it—every second, every touch—and just when you think I’ve had my fill, I’ll beg for more.”
His eyes closed. They opened, and then there was no air between them.
His mouth slammed into hers, all teeth and heat, hands in her hair, pulling hard enough to sting.
Her back hit the wine rack, bottles clattering, but she didn’t care.
She yanked him flush against her body, fingers biting into his shoulders, their breath tangling as if they could devour every inch of each other.
It was a reclamation, a brand seared into skin and soul, a demand and a surrender all at once. The cellar walls trembled as the bell rang—three sharp, clear notes that came from nowhere and everywhere, vibrating through the stone, through their bones, through the press of his body against hers.
The third bell strike faded, leaving only the faint creak of the old wine rack behind Emmaline and the soft rustle of fabric as Deyric’s forehead rested against hers.
A voice cut through the quiet. “You two done, or should I find a bucket of cold water?”
Emmaline jerked back just far enough to look past Deyric’s shoulder. Cassidy stood at the edge of the lantern glow, cradling her head. One hand rubbed the back of her neck, fingers kneading the skin.
“You okay?” Emmaline asked, her voice still rough around the edges.
Cassidy rolled her shoulders, something in her spine cracking loud enough to echo.
“Been worse. But I’m not the one who turned into a lightning rod just to suck face with my ex instead of handling the bastard we actually came here to torture.
” She looked between them, brow arching.
“Are we wrapping this up, or should I go brew some tea while you two work out your unresolved issues? And don’t forget, Margo still needs to file her damn report with the Patrol. ”
Deyric didn’t answer. His knuckles skimmed her jaw, the edge of his thumb lingering just long enough for her pulse to flutter beneath the skin.
Emmaline eased back first, though only far enough to draw a breath that didn’t taste like him. She glanced up, meeting his eyes one more time, holding there for a beat longer than she should have. “We finish what we came here to do. Then we figure out the rest.”
“Music to my damn ears.” Cassidy clapped once, wincing slightly after.
Margo and Aeren stood near the edge of the lantern light, both still watching—Margo’s grin wide enough to split her face, while Aeren looked like she wanted to claw her own eyes out.
“Get it, Ems!” Margo whooped, raising a hand toward Aeren for a high five.
“Revolting.” Aeren recoiled, folding her arms tight across her chest. “That’s my brother.”
Margo shrugged, unfazed. “Doesn’t make it any less hot.”
Emmaline snorted, shaking her head as she followed Cassidy into the dark. The shadows clung thick and writhing, then, as they neared, tore away from the walls, peeling back like wet paper to reveal the room beyond.