Chapter 102 Taera
Taera
Tears stain both of our cheeks, but the pain feels good.
My heart aches at his suffering, at how he’s been destroying himself for so long to chase his corrupted quest of misguided protection for his sister. His reddened eyes are weary, exposed, and I want to hold him. But this moment is too delicate.
“Hazel doesn’t need a hero,” I say. “She needs her brother—her real brother.”
Nikolai sags. “I can’t.”
“You showed me the truth.”
“It’s not the same.” He shakes his head, tormented. “The lies I’ve told her go back years. I—I can’t.”
“You can do anything.” I whisper the truth. “I’ve seen it.”
I reach for his hand, and he doesn’t stop me. I open my heart to him, my soft yearning to truly know him. His brow creases.
“I’m glad I can see you like this,” I say, and mean it.
Nikolai remains frowning, like he still doesn’t believe me or my magic. Cautiously, I lift my other hand and trace his scar. He winces.
“I’ve needed this,” I tell him. “Needed the real you.”
“I hate him,” he says, raw with honesty.
Instead of trying to make it better, I wrap my arms around him. It takes him a long moment before he reciprocates, threading his own arms around my waist and resting his head on my shoulder.
We hold each other for an eternity, arms intertwined and our magic joined.
Nikolai shudders with emotion, and I hug him tighter as he cries.
I think about all the lies and his pain at the truth.
The devastation of the masquerade ball and how I hurt Omi—draining them of their precious magic.
The pain washes over me in waves, and I shake with my own sobs. Nikolai never lets go.
I don’t know how long has passed when my breathing evens.
Despite our heightened emotion, Nikolai no longer seems to be modulating my magic.
The soft exchange of energy is like a natural extension of my body.
We fit together, woven for each other. The gentle touch of my magic flows between us, slow and rhythmic, washing back and forth like a cleansing tide.
A steady push and pull, soothing my frayed heart.
“I don’t deserve you, Taera,” he says.
“I’m the one who gets to decide that.”
The air between us shifts, humming with uncertainty. He reacts to the difference in my magic and pulls away. But I don’t want him to retreat, not this time.
Before he can, I tip my chin and press a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw. Nikolai grows still. When he doesn’t move, I lift my hands and cup his cheeks, wiping the wetness away with my thumb. My magic brushes between us, tingling with tension, and he finally breaks away.
“I’m not—” he says, gesturing to his true face, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. “This isn’t me.”
“It is.” I gaze at him, and he’s the one who struggles to hold my eyes.
“I can be anything for you,” he pleads, his voice soft. “You don’t need to see me like this.”
“I want to.”
He shakes his head, like he still doesn’t understand. “This isn’t who I want to be.”
I’m at a loss. Finally, I change direction. “Your freckles.”
“What?” He looks back at me.
“I love them.”
He frowns slightly. “You do?”
“We match.” Then, leaning in, I rub my nose against his. Nikolai seems shocked. I hold my breath.
When he chuckles softly, it sounds like sunshine. I beam at him, clasping his hand so he knows my joy, and he tentatively returns the smile.
“I love you,” I say.
This time, he’s the one who kisses me.