I gently nibbled her lower lip before kissing her deeply, cherishing her in the only way I knew how. She was too exhausted to do anything more, and that was okay with me. I’d hold her all night, guard her in her dreams, and continue watching her from the shadows when she woke.
My mate.
My little rose.
My future.
I adore you, I thought at her, not that she could hear me. I’m so sorry I have to break you, Aflora.
The only way for her to truly fly was without restraints, which required sacrifices from us all.
And this one would be mine.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Kols
“Why do you still have Aflora’s wand?” Zeph asked as he entered my bedroom without knocking. I’d set her magical conduit on the dresser, desiring to keep it safe for when I went back to her tomorrow morning.
“I didn’t get to see her. Shade had already tucked her into his bed.” I grimaced with the words, not at all pleased about her spending the night with him. Of course, he hadn’t exactly given me much of a choice. I could have fought him, demanded he hand her over, but decided it wasn’t worth the trouble. As I could sense her emotions now—thanks to the bond—I knew she was safe. If and when that sensation changed, I’d do something about it.
For now, I’d let him keep her.
Just for tonight.
Tomorrow was a whole new day for negotiation.
It also gave me time to replace all her belongings and the bedroom furniture.
Part of me still wanted to kill her for trapping me in this mess with her. Meanwhile, the more logical side of me recognized it’d been a mutual claiming.
I’d wanted her from the moment we first met, and even before that when I saw her at Cyrus’s coronation. She was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen, her long black hair highlighted with strands of blue. Those gorgeous eyes. Delectable curves. Sinfully sweet smile.
Every attribute she possessed lured me to her.
Coupled with her astounding power and royal bloodline, it was no wonder my fae soul sought her out as a match.
I’d been too weak to fight it, and for that, I would pay the ultimate price.
Hating her was easier than hating myself. That didn’t make it right.
“You look like hell,” Zeph said, stopping by my bed. I was lounging in the pillows with a bottle of whiskey in my lap. No shirt. No shoes. Just a pair of gray sweats.
“Thanks. I feel like hell.” I took another swig, wishing like crazy it would make me drunk already. But the power I’d imbibed from Aflora seemed to be eating at my ability to feel intoxicated.
I’d taken the brunt of her outburst, allowed it to fuel my insides, and fed it directly back into the source. Like some sort of damn siphon.
Zeph and Shade had helped, but they weren’t the ones with direct access to the dark arts. So the brunt of it fell on me.
The ink along my arms writhed in contentment, while my insides revolted.
I couldn’t believe any of this had happened, had no fucking clue what to do now. I’d straight up lied to my father, something I had never done before. Not over a major situation such as this, anyway. Little lies, yeah. Major ones, no.
“Fuck,” I muttered, taking yet another swallow before holding the bottle out to Zeph. “Want any?”
He took the bottle and set it aside rather than taking a swig. “It won’t help.”
“Tell me about it.” I’d been trying to drown my sorrows for over an hour to no avail. “Her power is like a live wire running through my fucking soul.”