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Chapter Thirteen

FELICITY FORREST

“Every heart holds both light and shadow. True magic awakens when we dare to embrace the balance between them.”

The Othercrowd Guidebook For Mortals

I collapse onto the bed at Pier House, my body still humming with the aftermath of Niall. The look in his eyes, like I’m both his salvation and his undoing, makes me shiver. I close my eyes, and his voice repeats in my head. You know what would be fun? A bond with a mortal who doesn’t even know what she is. I huff out a laugh, sharp and bitter.

“I know who I am,” I mutter to the empty room. Don’t I?

I press my palms against my face, trying to smother the fear creeping into my chest. My adoptive parents were the only family I’ve ever known. Earthy, free-spirited hippies who believed in the power of crystals, sage, and tarot cards. The metaphysical shop they owned smelled like incense and hope, but their shared love for me never wavered, even if it wasn’t always conventional.

They’re gone now, taken from this world without warning. Thinking about them still feels like swallowing glass. If it hadn’t been for Cyn and her family swooping in with holiday dinners and unconditional love, I don’t know who I’d be now or if I’d still be standing.

And yet, Niall’s taunt churns in my mind, digging up shadows I didn’t know existed. He cracks me open, exposing something raw and terrifying inside me. Something I’ve spent years locking away.

The shadows…I don’t understand them, not even a little. But I remember his voice, steady and sure. I don’t care about the odds, love. I’m all in. Shadows and all.

I wish I could believe that, not only in him but in myself. Because whatever this is between us, it’s not just his kisses, though they linger like wildfire on my lips. It’s how he looks at me, like he’s daring me to step into the storm, even if it destroys me.

I let out a long, shaky breath, staring at the ceiling as if it holds answers. Niall’s right about one thing. There’s something inside me that I don’t understand. Something powerful and broken and hungry . And if he’s all in, then I have to be too. Because if I can’t figure out why I am the way I am, this bond—this thing —might be the end of both of us.

And yet…I run my tongue over my lips, still tasting him, still wanting more.

My phone buzzes with a missed call notification blinking with Nathan’s name. My boss. There’s a text too. Chat about the meeting at the construction site? Yeah, no thanks. I’ve got bigger questions in my head, like, what the hell am I? And why do shadows seem to follow me like a lost puppy with a bad attitude? The last thing I care about is work logistics.

The scent of sex and magic sticks to my skin, and all I want is a hot bath to wash away the ache in my muscles. Every sore spot feels like a trophy from an afternoon that left me reeling, starving, and full of more questions than answers. My stomach growls in protest over the skipped lunch, but the memory of room-wrecking pleasure shoves it to the backseat.

As I muster the will to peel myself off the bed, the door swings open, and Cyn storms in, irritation rolling off her like smoke.

Of course, it’s Cyn, and Tomas is probably the reason for the storm cloud over her head. I don’t need to ask to know if the latest chapter in her work-in-progress romance isn’t exactly fluffy or light. Cyn is more like a dark romance. My inner sceptic bet on this disaster from day one, and judging by the fire in her eyes, I hit the jackpot.

She flops onto the bed beside me with a huff. “Well, don’t just lay there looking all post-coital and glowing. I need vodka or answers. Preferably both.”

I prop myself up on an elbow, fighting a smirk. “You first.”

“He’s gay,” she announces, like this is a universal truth and not pure speculation because her ego is wounded. “That’s the only explanation. He has to be gay.”

Suppressing the laughter bubbling in my throat, I raise an eyebrow. “Okay, what happened?”

She throws her hands in the air. “It started fine. Great, even. The beach was perfect. He seemed interested in me, like, really interested. Asking all the questions about my family, my work, even my exes. Which, fine, was a little weird because no guy actually wants to hear about other men. But whatever, I went with it.”

“So, what’s the problem? Sounds like he’s into you.”

“The problem,” she says, her voice rising in pitch, “is that when I went in for the kiss—like, full-on, swoop-in-with-a-bang kind of kiss—he offered me a handshake. Like we were sealing some corporate merger. Who the fuck does that?”

That’s it. I lose it, laughter spilling out before I can stop it. The mental image alone is enough to wreck me. Cyn—international model Cyn—being snubbed? It’s absurd. She’s a walking goddess, all curves and confidence and the kind of beauty that should require its own warning label. Men don’t turn her down.

“A handshake?” I wheeze. “Oh, Cyn…”

She crosses her arms, glaring daggers at me. “It’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

“No, it’s maddening,” she fumes. “One second he’s attentive and hanging on my every word, and the next he’s retreating like I’m trying to sell him a timeshare. The man’s a damn Rubik’s Cube, and I don’t have the patience to solve him.”

“Maybe it’s time to cut your losses?” I suggest, though the thought makes my stomach twist. There’s something about Tomas that’s connected to Niall, and it’s giving me an itch I can’t scratch. I should tell her, warn her, but how do I tell her what’s happening without sounding bananas?

Her grin turns sharp and wicked. “Oh, there’s no way I’m letting you off that easily, Flick. A bet’s a bet, and I am banging him before we go home. Tonight, actually.”

I open my mouth. I should come clean, lay it all out there about Niall, the shadows, the bond that’s wrapped itself around me like a vice. But how do I explain it when I don’t even understand? How do I tell her about the sex that felt like the universe cracked open, or about the ceangal— whatever the hell that means—has me connected to him in ways I can’t fathom?

“You’re right. A bet is a bet. And speaking of bets…” I start, easing into it.

Cyn narrows her eyes, instantly suspicious. “Wait. No. Don’t tell me.”

I hesitate, trying to pick the least insane version of the truth. “I won the bet with Niall this afternoon.”

Her brow arches, and her mouth drops open in mock horror. “Shut up. You bloody little liar.”

Heat rushes to my face as the memory floods back. “No, really. I did. He’s different, Cyn. I didn’t know what I was missing until him.

Her lips quirk into a sly grin. “Well then, don’t hold back the details. What’s he like?”

She leans in, all ears, hungry for gossip. I feel like I’m walking a tightrope. Too much truth, and I’ll scare her off, or worse, have her questioning my sanity. Too little, and she’ll know I’m holding back. How do I explain that when Niall and I had sex, the entire room practically imploded in a storm of shadows?

I pick out parts of my narrative that I can share carefully. “Niall…he opened my eyes. To so many things.”

Her eyes narrow, teasing. “Like?”

I hesitate, my mind spinning with images of the cottage bedroom we destroyed. The sex was groundbreaking in every sense of the word. But the shadows, the destruction…what does it mean? Are we dangerous together? Am I?

I force a smirk, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “He’s demanding. Filthy. And fuck, the way he talks to me…” My face burns—not with embarrassment, but with the memory of every filthy promise he made and kept . My voice drops, husky, betraying me. “…it wrecks me. And he really knows what he’s doing.”

Cyn raises a perfectly sculpted brow. “Sounds like a keeper.”

I laugh. “I don’t know what it means yet.”

Her grin turns knowing. “It can be anything you want it to be. Don’t label it. Enjoy it while you can.” She pauses, her gaze softening. “But remember one thing—what you think you want isn’t always what you really need.”

I nod, not ready to unpack the emotions threatening to crush me. I’m caught between wanting him and the ice-cold fear clutching my heart. The man I’m falling for might be the key to unlocking a version of myself I never even knew existed. I’m equal parts excited and terrified.

Cyn seems to sense the shift in my mood and changes gears, bless her. “So, what do you plan to do about it?”

My cheeks flush at the memory of his head between my legs, his tongue lapping at my sex. I bite my lip. “I don’t know yet, but he’s very skilled with his tongue.”

Cyn’s snort is anything but ladylike. “Come on, I want all the details. Surely he’s good at more than that . What’s he like?”

“Well, we walked to his cottage and talked about his family…”

Cyn groans. “I knew you’d chicken out. If you can’t give me any real details, I’m calling it now. You didn’t do it. Chicken.” She makes a ridiculous squawking sound, flapping her arms for emphasis, and I burst into laughter.

“You’re terrible, ” I say, though I’m grinning. “Go ahead and bait me all you want, but it was…gods there aren’t words. We talked about his family—he has two sisters—and when we didn’t talk, it wasn’t uncomfortable. And the sex was…” I pause, the words catching in my throat. It was amazing. But it was also mind-bending and downright terrifying. If we keep breaking shit every time, how do we even—? I definitely can’t tell her that , so I leave it at, “It was more than I expected.”

“ More? You mean he’s well-hung.” Her grin is all mischief.

“Cyn!” I yelp, throwing a pillow at her. She dodges it, cackling, and the tension in my chest loosens a little.

“It’s good to see you finally moving on. It’s about bloody time you got back out there. I’m happy for you. Really, I am,” Cyn says, her voice quieter than usual, like she means it for once without the sarcasm.

Her encouragement lands softly, but there’s a tremor in my voice when I admit, “I feel alive with him. Like, really alive. But also like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff.”

Cyn doesn’t miss a beat. “So, are you going to see him again?”

I can’t help but smile, and it feels too wide, but I don’t care. “I’m meeting him tonight for dinner.”

“Good. Dinner is a step in the right direction. Might mean he’s looking for more.”

I swallow hard, forcing myself to keep my expression neutral. “Maybe.”

Cyn’s tone shifts, her teasing dropping away. “What do you want? Forget what’s right or safe or whatever. What do you actually want from this?”

What do I want? It sounds insane, but from the moment I met Niall, I’ve felt something, like I know him on a soul-deep level. I don’t believe in soulmates or fate or any of that crap, but the bond is impossible to ignore.

“I don’t know.”

Cyn scoffs. “Oh, Flick, come on. You’re an absolutely shit liar. I’ve never heard you talk about anyone like this—not since the day I met you and that absolute muppet lobbed an iced coffee at you.” She arches a brow, all smug amusement. “You like him. Just admit it.”

I laugh, a little self-conscious, but her bluntness pulls the truth from me. “Fine. Yes, I like him. Ever since I met him, it’s like…I don’t know. I feel more me than I’ve ever felt. I’ve never been the type to stop a room with my looks—not like you—but with him, that doesn’t matter. He sees me. And in his eyes, I find a version of myself that I actually like . It’s crazy and fucking terrifying. Who feels like that? Like they’re flying just because someone else sees them?”

Cyn shrugs. “Not me, love. You know relationships aren’t my thing. But if it works for you, then I’m happy for you. You deserve it. Especially after what that maggot put you through.”

I snort, shaking my head. “You certainly don’t mince words. This is why I bloody love you.”

“I know.” Cyn grins, but her edges soften as I wrap her in a hug.

“Okay, let’s not get carried away here.” She pushes me back with mock disgust. “Just know, if he hurts you, I’ll kick his ass. Hard.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

Cyn wrinkles her nose, giving me a once-over. “And take a shower. You reek of sex.”

I roll my eyes, hopping off the bed. “So, does this mean you’re giving up on Tomas?”

Her scowl is instantaneous. “It’s still my bloody birthday. Forget the bet—I refuse to be snubbed. I’m going to fuck him. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

Poor Tomas. He doesn’t stand a chance.

The lights flicker. Not the lazy kind you’d blame on old wiring. This feels intentional, like the island is reaching out to me. My stomach knots as the shadows shift, stretching like they’re alive.

It’s not the first time. The cold wraps around me, dragging me back to the apartment above my parents’ shop. Most kids imagine monsters under the bed. I didn’t have to imagine. I knew they were real.

The shadows would come at night, curling around the edges of my bed like ink spreading through water. They didn’t growl. No, they whispered. Scáth Cailleach, come and play with us. They’d trail along my skin, tickling my feet. Teasing. Coaxing. I’d burrow under the blankets, holding my breath like it might save me.

When I screamed, my mum came running. Warm hugs, soft reassurances, the closet checked, the bed searched. “See? No monsters,” she’d say, leaving the light on to chase them away. It worked—for a while.

But the whispers always came back. Softer. Closer. I’d lie there, frozen, praying sleep would find me before they did.

The lights flicker again, dragging me back to the present. My heart races as the air turns colder. The shadows press closer, breathing along the edges of the room.

Cyn doesn’t even notice. She waves it off like it’s nothing. “Man, I hope they’ve got a backup generator. I need a shower, too.”

She’s gone before I can answer. I manage a nod, but my attention is locked on the way the darkness shifts. The room feels smaller. The air is heavier, like the shadows are waiting. Watching.

The lights stutter once more as I step toward the bathroom, my pulse pounding. It’s not electrical. It’s never the wiring. Whatever this is, I swear it’s been hunting me forever.

And now, it’s done waiting.