Chapter 33
RAVENA
“I need you to wake up, Cherry.”
I could hear him—his voice low, steady, grounding me. His presence wrapped around me like warmth after a long winter, familiar and safe. And beneath it all lingered that scent I knew too—clean, sharp citrus, like sun-drenched days and fleeting peace.
Power surges through me, electric and alive, and for the first time, I feel just how much was locked away. And instead of chaos, there's calm—a steady, stubborn pulse that roots me to myself. I feel whole. Fierce. Unbreakable. Finally, I’m the witch I was born to be
I can’t remember what happened, though, not clearly anyway.
“You’re alive.”
Xarothar's voice rumbled through my mind, and our connection lit up.
“Only just.” Even in the dark, I could feel the weight anchoring me down. My limbs were leaden, my ribs sore, and every nerve screamed. I ached in places I didn’t know I had.
“Better than dead.”
“Debateable.”
He huffed, that familiar, annoyed exhale that meant stop whining, you’re fine. My grumpy dragon.
“How the hell am I not dead?” I asked him, because I damn well should be.
“I tapped into the others' life force, just enough to keep your stubborn ass alive.”
“Wait, wait, wait. Others?”
That couldn’t be right. Xarothar was supposed to be the last—my impossible, one-in-a-billion miracle. Dragons were extinct. Long gone. Wiped out during the Ashen war. The idea that there were others out there? It didn’t make sense.
I mean, come on—how the hell do you hide a bunch of giant, fire-breathing beasts? They’re not exactly subtle.
“You’re lying.”
“Don’t insult me, Raven.”
“But it doesn’t make sense.”
Annoyance flared through the bond.
“I am not here to coddle your denial,” I roll my eyes, well, whatever you do when they are closed. “They’re alive. Hidden in Ignarith. And they lent me their strength. Without it, you and I would be dead.”
This is all so confusing.
“They just… gave it to you?”
A pause. “I can be persuasive.”
“Uh-huh. Meaning you threatened them.”
“Strongly encouraged their cooperation.”
“Which is just a fancy way of saying threatened.”
He didn’t deny it, which meant I was right. Xarothar exhaled sharply in my mind. “I will let you rest. For once in your reckless existence, don’t go looking for trouble.”
“That’s asking a lot.”
“I know.” There was dry amusement in his tone, but it faded quickly. “I will explain all of it to you soon, when it is safe.”
I barely registered the hand brushing my cheek—shaking me out of the tunnel I’d fallen into while talking to Xarothar.
“I need you awake.” Ronan’s voice stirred through my haze, rough with desperation. “It’s been nearly two weeks. I can’t… I just can’t.”
His tone cracked, like he’s been holding himself together on grit and guilt. “Malrik says you’re fine—but I have no idea what that lunatic considers fine.”
I wanted to laugh because I don’t think anybody understood that. Malriks' version of fine was like asking a viper for a hug. But knowing they are together, and haven’t killed each other yet, makes me feel… happy.
“Wake up for me,” he whispers. “Not because the realm is going to shit without you—though it is. Not because we can’t take on Vespera or stop the war that’s coming.”
He exhales hard.
“Wake up because I need you. Not your power, not the fire in your blood, not the saviour the realms are waiting for. I need you. The real you. The stubborn, reckless, impossible woman who drives me mad and somehow makes me feel like I can finally fucking breathe.”
A tear drops onto my cheek, warm even through the fog of my unconsciousness.
“I’m in love with you, Ravena.” His voice cracks on the words, like they're tearing out pieces of him on the way out. “So in love, it terrifies me. It's drowning me. And if you don’t wake up… if you don’t open your pretty eyes and hear me, say it for real—I don’t know if I’ll survive it.”
My heart shatters at the sound of him breaking—the ragged, guttural sniffle that tears down every wall I've fought so hard to build. I want to—no, need—to open my eyes, to find him, to throw myself into his arms like holding him is the only thing keeping me tethered to the world.
The last time I saw him, I thought he was dying. Thought that was it—goodbye. I thought I’d never get the chance to tell him how much he means to me, never see him standing beside me instead of lying broken, bleeding on the floor in Vesperas' dungeons.
I need to open them. To tell him I love him. To make sure he’s still here.
“I’ll share you,” he forces out. “I know Malrik is obsessed with you, but I don't care..You’re you, and if he holds a piece of your heart, fine. Just promise me one thing—don't make me wait. Wake up. Come back to me and let me have a piece of your heart, too.”
There’s a raw, desperate tenderness beneath his words.
I fight to move, every muscle quivering as if they've forgotten how to obey me. I have to show him I’m still here —that I’m not gone, that I’m waking up.
Seconds stretch into what feels like hours, and every heartbeat screams at me to keep going.
Another tear slides down my cheek, and I let out a broken, tired moan.
“Cherry?” His voice is low, brushing against my ear like a whisper.
I push harder, summoning every shred of strength until my lashes flutter open, slowly letting in the harsh light. And there he is—those beautiful, bright blue eyes, rimmed red with worry and something deeper.
He gasps, a shaky breath that trembles through him, and fresh tears spill down his cheeks. My fierce hunter breaks—right here before me. His hands cradle my face with such tenderness, like I’m the most fragile thing in the world.
His lips find mine, soft and careful, as if he's afraid to break the fragile thread between us. My chest tightens, heart swelling and splintering all at once, and I kiss him back.
My Ronan.
I could kiss him for eternity and never grow tired of the way he tastes—like home and heartbreak and everything I never thought I’d have. My fingers shake as they rise to touch his arm, grounding myself in the feel of him while he holds my face carefully.
He breaks the kiss, but doesn’t move—not an inch. His forehead rests against mine, breath shaky, eyes searching.
“I love you too,” I whisper, the words barely forming past the ache in my throat. I want to tell him more—why I love him, how he’s one of the only people who’s ever made me feel truly seen, how the thought of a world without him makes my chest cave in—but before I can, he grins.
That lopsided, reckless grin makes my heart skip. He shakes his head, as if he can't believe I’m really here. And then he kisses me again, harder this time, like he's starving for it.
His tongue grazes my bottom lip, gentle but insistent, and I part my lips, letting him in because by the stars, he already lives inside every part of me.
A soft moan escapes me the moment his tongue touches mine, the kiss deepening, raw and consuming. With every breath we share, every gentle press of his lips against mine, it feels like he's pulling me back to life, stitching me together again.
And strangely—beautifully—my body starts to feel okay. The weight that pressed down on me loosened, the ache fading beneath the warmth of his hands. His fingers trace my neck, slow and reverent, memorising every inch, and it anchors me in a way no magic ever could.
My hand rises on instinct, threading in the short hairs at the back of his neck, anchoring him to me—because I need this. I need him. All of him. The realms could be burning to ash around me, and I wouldn’t spare a glance—because all I can think about is him.
My body aches for him, drawn to him like gravity, like fate. Nothing else matters. Not the possible war, not the blood, not the weight of what’s to come.
Right now, all I crave is him.
Ronan pulls back just enough to breathe, his chest rising and falling like he’s just surfaced from deep water. His eyes are wild, burning with a need so raw it steals my breath, but beneath it… restraint.
“We shouldn’t,” he murmurs, like it hurts to say it.
I cup his face in my hands, grounding him. My magic pulses beneath my skin, alive and reaching for him, just like I am.
“I need you. Before everything burns, before whatever we have to face out there—I need to feel you. No one else. Nothing else. Just you.”
His eyes flicker, torn, but I catch the way he glances over his shoulder. The door is locked.
I don’t recognise the room, don’t know where we are, but it doesn’t matter.
Wherever he is, that’s where I want to be.
A crooked grin appears—wicked and boyish all at once. “Just making sure your other boyfriend doesn’t burst in. It’s been too long since I’ve had you like this… and I want it to be just us.” His voice drops, husky with need. “This time.”
“Understandable,” I murmur, breath catching as he grabs me in one fluid motion and pulls me up into his lap like I weigh nothing.
My fingers tighten around his shoulders, anchoring myself as he looks at me—really looks at me. Eyes dragging down my body like he’s starving, and I’m the only thing that’ll satisfy the ache.
“I need you naked,” he says, voice rough.
A laugh escapes me, and I lift my arms, slow and teasing.
My gaze locks on his. “Help me?”
He doesn’t hesitate. His hands are on me instantly, sliding my thin top up and over my head in one smooth motion. No bra. His pupils widen, and something dark and primal flickers across his face—like he's seeing me for the first time all over again.
The cold air kisses my bare skin, my nipples tightening under his stare. He bites his lip hard, and I can't help but smile at him..
“So, fucking beautiful,” he breathes out.
“Your turn now.”
He smirks, and in that sinfully effortless way that should be illegal, he arches one arm back, hooks the collar of his shirt, and peels it off in a single, fluid motion.
If he did that every day, I don't think we would ever leave the room.