Chapter 30
Iwoke to silence.
And then, before I was fully conscious, before registering the sheets or the light or the ache in my palm—I remembered.
Not all at once, but in pieces.
The cold of the knife’s handle. Bone-smooth and ancient in my hand. The sharp sting of the cut I made. And then—
A feeling no single word could adequately describe. Like a door sealed shut had blown wide open inside my chest. Like every candle in a dark house lighting at once.
I lay still, afraid to move. Afraid that if I breathed wrong it would all disappear.
But it didn’t.
All my life my magic was fleeting. Like something I held cupped in my hands, watching it seep out between my fingers no matter how tightly I pressed them together. I’d grown so used to the loss that I’d forgotten the joy of it—tarnished by the constant grief of something being taken.
And now? It had returned to me.
My eyes fluttered open.
I found myself in Axel’s bedroom. Light filtered in the windows. The smell of his sheets—of him—wrapped me in comfort.
I pressed my bandaged hand flat against my sternum and just breathed, feeling the hum of my power—deep and warm and bottomless in a way it had never been.
Not since I was a child, before I understood what was happening to me.
Before the first time I’d used magic and felt that tearing sensation and looked at my mother’s face and understood from her expression that something had just been lost forever.
It wasn’t lost anymore.
I sat up slowly, and the world didn’t spin. I felt—impossibly, after everything—like myself. Or rather, like the version of myself I’d been trying to get back to for as long as I could remember.
None of this felt real. For so long, I had hoped this day would come. Now that it was here, I didn’t know what to do with it.
My eyes snagged on my backpack sitting innocently on the dresser. I’d been wearing it when I went into The Roost. Which was how Ambrose found my GPS device.
Ambrose.
I remembered the sound of his anguished scream as the knife’s magic rebounded, taking his magic in exchange for mine. It made sense. His blood was responsible for the curse on mine, after all.
I shivered and pushed free of the blankets, swinging my feet over the edge of the bed. The oversized t-shirt I wore slipped off one shoulder. One of Axel’s, and not what I’d been wearing last night.
I frowned. Had he dressed me? Put me to bed?
Heat crept up my throat at the thought.
I glanced at the window again. It looked like mid-morning. I must have slept through the entire night.
Was it any surprise? I’d been drugged and then bombarded with a lifetime of magic that had been stolen from me. Magic that now hummed beneath my skin. Nervous, I tentatively reached for it. Just a thread.
It answered immediately. Eager. Ready.
A smile tugged at my lips. I glanced around Axel’s room. It was so sparse and functional—just like the man himself. The bed frame he’d built with his own hands. The simple dresser. The window with its plain, dark green curtains.
Before I could second-guess myself, I used my will and desire to shape what I wanted. The curtains shimmered, fabric rippling like water. The green melted away, replaced by a crisp, cream that caught the light and made the whole room glow, instantly brightening the space.
I waited for the telltale familiar sensation of ripping part of myself away. But it didn’t come. My elation grew.
I searched for other things, imagining the changes I would make if this were my room—our room.
My smile blossomed as I created several wooden frames, empty—for now—on the wall.
Then I added a set of wooden shelves. Finally, I put an additional rug beneath the small chaise in the corner, along with a couple of throw pillows.
I was panting by the end, a light sheen of perspiration coating my skin.
Light witches didn’t have an endless supply of magic.
We had to take it from our bodies in the form of energy.
Which meant I was already ready for a nap.
Like any muscle, this one needed exercise if I was to strengthen it.
But the important thing was, I could. And I would. In time.
My stomach growled, loud enough to break the quiet. Eager to see Axel, I made a trip to the bathroom before heading for the door. Everything was quiet—a calm sort of quiet. My socked feet padded into the great room where I stopped short.
Axel sat on the couch, a book open in one hand. But he wasn’t reading. His head was bowed slightly, his attention focused on Basil and Sage.
Both bunnies were nestled in his lap, Basil’s gray fur stark against Axel’s dark jeans, Sage’s black coat merging with the shadows. Axel’s hand moved slowly, absently, stroking down Basil’s floppy ears with a gentleness that made my throat close up.
The massive werewolf who’d battled a witch last night to protect me was sitting on his couch petting my bunnies like they were the most precious things in the world.
I must have made a sound—a tiny intake of breath—because his head whipped toward me.
“Rebecca. You’re awake.”
His voice was rough, like he hadn’t slept. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and even from here I could see the tension in his shoulders.
“I’m awake. Judging by the time, looks like I slept through my first class of the day.”
He moved quickly but carefully, lifting both bunnies and setting them gently on the couch cushion beside him before standing. Then he was crossing the room and I was moving too, meeting him halfway.
“Already reached out to the college. Let the admin know you were sick. They posted notes on the doors for your classes.”
“Oh. Thank—thank you. That was thoughtful.”
He stopped in front of me, pulling me against his chest. One hand cupped the back of my head, the other wrapped around my waist, holding me tight.
“How do you feel?” His voice rumbled against my ear. “Are you hurt? Dizzy? Any pain?”
“I’m fine.” I pressed closer, breathing him in. Pine and woodsmoke and something so uniquely him that I wanted to hold it in my lungs and never let it out. “I’m okay. How are you? You were hurt—I saw him hit you—“
“I’m healing, sweetheart.” He pulled back just enough to look down at me, scanning my face. “Ribs are almost better. Another few hours and I’ll be back to normal. Let me see your hand.”
Without waiting for permission, he pulled back and lifted my injured palm, removing the bandage.
It had already turned into a scab. Witches weren’t like other supernaturals.
We were mortal, with normal lifespans. Which meant we could be killed just as easily as any human.
I wondered about healing it, knowing witches could heal injuries if they used magic. I still had a bit of energy left in me.
So I closed my eyes and focused, directing my magical energy and my will into what I wanted. My face scrunched up. I probably looked ridiculous, but it was worth it when I opened my eyes to find nothing more than a pink line.
Axel’s lips parted. “Well, there you are.”
“It worked!” I grinned.
“Looks like you got your magic back, lass.” There was something almost…conflicting in his voice. Like he was both happy and sad at the same time.
“I got it back, thanks to you,” I said. “Though I don’t know whether to thank you or yell at you.”He huffed. “Axel, you put yourself in danger. Ambrose—he could have—”
“I would do it again if it meant protecting you.”
I sighed, because I knew he would. “You made it through the cave all on your own.”
“I had good reason to.”
I worried my bottom lip, looking him over. “I’m so proud of you.”
He frowned, completely confused. “What the hell for?”
“For conquering the cave, dummy. What do you think? You did it.”
He blew out a breath. “Like I said, little witch, I would do it all again if it meant protecting you. If it meant helping you get your magic back. And it worked. You broke the curse.”
“I broke the curse,” I echoed. So why did my chest suddenly feel so tight?
“Are you hungry?” He was already pulling away, putting distance between us. “You haven’t eaten since yesterday. I’ll make you something.”
My stomach answered for me.
The corner of his mouth twitched. Almost a smile. “Kitchen. Now.”
I settled onto one of the barstools at the island while he moved around the kitchen pulling out eggs, cheese, vegetables and the cast iron skillet.
“What happened?” I asked quietly, watching him work. “After…?”
His hands stilled for just a moment, then resumed their work. Cracking eggs into a bowl. “You mean after Blackthorn—?”
“Died. Yes.” I waited, watching him dice vegetables with precise, controlled movements.
I wasn’t sure how to feel about his death. There was relief, which felt both shameful and real. But there was something quieter underneath it. A strange emptiness over the disappearance of a threat I no longer needed to hide from.
“You passed out,” he continued. “I caught you before you hit the ground. Got you out of there and brought you home. Tended to your hand.” He poured the eggs into the hot skillet. “You’ve been asleep for about fourteen hours.”
Fourteen hours?!
“The knife?” I asked.
“Still in the cave. I tried to go back for it but I can’t pick it up. My hand passes right through it.”
“I think it’s some kind of magical property of the knife,” I mused, trying to wrap my head around it. “It’s a knife made for breaking curses so…”
“Only the cursed can touch it?”
“I think so. It would make sense. But it also means neither of us will be able to move it. Maybe that’s the real reason it was left there.”
He hummed.
“I’ll have to let Elle know. She’ll be disappointed. She was hoping to add it to the university’s artifact collection when I finished with it.”
A more serious thought crept into my mind. One that could cause us problems.
“What about Ambrose?” I asked carefully. “What are we going to do about him? You…”
Axel’s shoulders tensed. “Killed him. Aye. I’m aware.”
He focused on the eggs, pushing them around the pan.
“So?”
“Already took care of it.”
“Axel.”