CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX #2
Once the house was out of sight and there were only trees to witness us, I faced Oliver again. I didn’t question if what we were about to do would work. I was a Nightmare, and we created our own reality.
“Picture our place,” I told him softly. “Picture home.”
I didn’t wait for an answer; I wasn’t even sure he could give one. I held Oliver’s clawed fingers without flinching and thought of our childhood. Echoes of laughter sounded in my ears, and I felt the spray of the sea against my face. When I opened my eyes, familiar golden grass rustled around us.
We were back in our meadow. Back in our place, where I’d known such love and safety it truly could only have been a dream. It seemed fitting, that we should end in the same place we’d begun.
But I wasn’t ready to finish it. Not yet.
Oliver’s gaze roamed the dreamscape. He already seemed more like himself. His eyes were normal again, and all those black veins had faded as if they’d never been. “Fortuna, did you say something? I feel like … like I’m just waking up from a dream. Did something happen?” he asked me.
Seeing the worry in Oliver’s eyes, the hint of apprehension in his voice, made the ache inside me widen. Once again, I avoided the question.
“No. Not at all,” I lied.
Before he could say anything else, I went into Oliver’s arms. As always, they tightened around me instantly, and it felt like my bones turned to liquid. My eyes fluttered shut again, and a single thought filled my being from corner to corner. Home.
Just as quickly as it had come, the slow warmth of joy began to go cold. Oliver’s voice whispered through my head. Is the bliss and the beauty worth the absence and the sorrow, Fortuna?
I must’ve stiffened or flinched, because he drew away. “What’s wrong?”
I still couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth.
Not in words, at least. I looked up at Oliver silently, knowing he would see the pain in my eyes.
I couldn’t hide it from him—even now, after everything, he was my best friend.
My first love. We may have begun with death and fear, but we got to choose our ending.
He frowned and cupped my cheek. “Fortuna, what is it?”
I just shook my head and wordlessly reached for the bottom of his shirt.
I pulled it over his head, then I did the same with mine.
I removed our pants, too. Once I’d laid all our clothing on the ground, I took Oliver’s hand again and led him into the sea.
The waves lapped at our waists as I faced him.
I could feel Oliver looking at me in silent puzzlement, but I still kept my focus on the movement of my hands as I reached down and formed a cup with my palms. I raised it to Oliver’s chest, letting it trickle down his body.
I did this again and again until I’d washed all the blood away, letting the water claim it, along with everything else.
When I finally lifted my gaze, Oliver’s eyes burned with familiar intensity.
He lowered his head, and his mouth hovered near mine.
Waiting. I wrapped my fingers around the back of his neck and closed the breath of space between us.
The kiss was hungry and tender all at once.
Oliver reached down and lifted me into his arms. He carried me out of the cold and strode back to the grass, where he laid me down and reclaimed my mouth.
My knees clamped against his rib cage and I felt him harden against my core.
Arousal shot through me. Never breaking away from Oliver, I reached down and wrapped my fingers around him, guiding his cock to my slick, ready opening.
Oliver made a low, masculine sound and pressed my wrists against the ground.
When he thrust inside of me, I felt the same pure strength in his hips that lived in his heart.
I linked my ankles behind Oliver and began to meet him.
He breathed my name, and I cried out his.
We made love for the last time, losing ourselves in each other, losing all sense of time.
Then Oliver’s movements became harder and faster.
His body went rigid, and he climaxed with a long, blissful moan.
His entire body shuddered while I ran my fingers through his hair.
Afterward, I expected him to pull back, but Oliver laid his head on my chest. We lay there, drowsy and silent. I ran my fingers through his silky hair. In that moment, I was happy. Truly happy. It was like reaching the end of a long, exhausting journey. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed.
“I love you,” Oliver murmured.
“I love you, too,” I whispered back. No four words had ever been the easiest and the most impossible to say. My heart throbbed like an old wound.
Oliver’s eyes glowed with happiness. In that instant, he was more trusting and vulnerable than he’d ever been. His guard was completely down.
That was when I knew—it was time.
I took a mental breath and slipped inside his head. Oliver didn’t even notice. He didn’t feel or sense me as I sifted through his innermost thoughts. Every creature had a weakness. Something they were afraid of. I’d know that better than anyone.
When I finally found Oliver’s greatest fear, I felt my heart shatter.
“Oh, Ollie,” I whispered, my lips trembling. I pressed them together.
He smiled at me like a child, so innocent and trusting. “Yes?”
Tears ran down my face—I tasted one, hot and bitter. I knew what Oliver was afraid of now. I knew how it had to be done. I held the knowledge of my best friend’s undoing delicately, as though it would break at the slightest touch.
It was me. Or rather, seeing me in pain. Watching me die. Living in a world without me in it. Oliver’s mind was a dark maze, something monstrous and hungry around every corner. But in the center, there was a bright light, a single shining beacon. Me.
He’d been telling the truth all along. My mind flashed back to the day I’d asked him, point blank, Can you be killed?
Yes. I already told you how, once.
And he had. He’d told me back at the very beginning. I was Oliver’s demon glass.
My chest quivered with pain as I leaned down to press one last kiss to his lips.
Oliver kissed me back, smiling against my mouth.
He was still smiling when I stood up and moved away, putting some space between us.
I used my power to make the clothing reappear on our bodies, because I wanted Oliver’s ending to be dignified.
“I’m sorry. I’ve never been very good at goodbyes,” I said, my voice shaking.
Oliver sat up to watch me. He wore a faint look of confusion now, but he still didn’t realize what was happening. “Who are you saying goodbye to?”
“Someone has captured me,” I whispered. Oliver’s serene expression turned to terror. I forced myself to keep going. “A werewolf. He’s holding his claws to my throat. One move, and he’ll tear it open.”
My best friend’s nostrils flared in fury. He got to his feet, and his eyes had hardened into ice. His voice became a dangerous, familiar rumble as he said, “If you hurt her, I’ll—”
“Threats are useless,” I cut in flatly. As quickly as they’d appeared, the black veins along Oliver’s throat began to retreat, his claws retracting.
I swallowed the sob that was lodged in my throat and kept going, my voice still hard and pitiless.
“This time, you only have one choice. Take your own life, or sit there as the werewolf ends mine.”
Oliver wouldn’t be defeated so easily. He struggled against my will, trying to find his way back to reality. Something inside him knew this wasn’t right.
Another day, another Fortuna, he might have won. But too much blood had been shed. Too much had happened. I merely tightened my grip on Oliver’s mind and made the image worse. The werewolf flicked a single claw, and a deep cut opened across the other Fortuna’s skin.
Oliver made a sound of horror. He tried to launch himself at me, but suddenly there was an unbreakable glass wall between us, stretching as far as the eye could see in both directions.
The top of the wall reached up and disappeared into the gathering clouds, so that way was out, too.
Oliver bounced off the glass and hit the ground, his eyes wide with shock and confusion.
Help me, the other Fortuna whimpered, pressing her palm against the clear barrier.
“Stop this,” Oliver roared, throwing himself against it. “Take me. Take me!”
The werewolf flashed a grin, all pointed teeth and barely contained glee. No trades. You must choose.
But Oliver kept trying to break the wall, putting all of his considerable strength behind each attempt.
The glass held, not even a spiderweb crack appearing along its smooth surface, because I willed it so.
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I watched Oliver beat and batter himself, knowing he needed to believe there was no way to save me.
Eventually he did stop. He stood there, chest heaving. His furious, helpless gaze went back and forth, from my face to the werewolf. The werewolf gouged a second claw into the other Fortuna’s flesh, and she screamed, her knees buckling. The werewolf used his free hand to keep her upright.
And finally, Oliver broke.
“Enough,” he rasped, pressing his palm against the barrier. “Enough. I’ll do it. But first, let her go.”
The werewolf shook his shaggy head. Sorry. That’s not how this works. Guess you’ll just have to take my word for it—she goes free the second your heart stops beating.