Page 87 of Alastair

“Where are we going?”

Silent, he walked in front of me, his white hair standing out beneath the starry sky, like a beacon in the dark. Moonlight kissed the strands, and I had the sudden urge to run my fingers through it. He was moving too quickly for me to do that though. I called out to him again and received no response.

“If you’re leading me away with the intent on murdering me, I should have you know I’m skilled with a blade. I had a great teacher. You might have heard of him.”

Still, nothing.

Curiosity rising—and perhaps a bit of nerves—I continued to follow him. He led me to an orchard of trees, a mix of wild apple, beech, and oak. Only once we were out of sight from the others did he turn to me. His expression made me come to a sharp stop.

He looked so cold, like all the warmth he’d shown me in bed that same morning had been swept away by a frigid winter storm.

“Lazarus?”

His icy gaze raked over me.

“Did I do something wrong?” When the only answer I received was the muscle in his jaw tightening, I stepped closer. “Goddammit, stop with the glares and talk to me.”

“I can’t,” he finally said, the two words coming out thick. “I can’t talk to you because I don’t know what this is.”

“Try.”

“My chest is heavy. My head’s ringing. There’s a twisting inside me I can’t unwind.” Lazarus gripped the side of my neck, his hand trembling. His icy barrier began to thaw. “You told me last night you were scared. I… I think I am too.”

“You don’t think we can win,” I whispered, my heart filling with lead. “You doubt me.”

“My faith in you has nothing to do with it. Defeat is always a possibility in war. I’ve known this going into every battle. Only a madman faces an enemy and thinks himself invincible. Yet, as we stand here now, the possibility of defeat is debilitating. The thought of losing you… I can’t bear it.” His forehead lightly bumped mine as he shakily exhaled. “I don’t know what to do with these feelings, Alastair.”

I understood it then. The seal had blocked these emotions from him. Now that it was broken, he was feeling things for the first time: happiness and the crushing fear of losing it.

“Let yourself feel them. That’s all you can do.” I rested my hands on his hips, smiling a little at the warmth of his bare skin. Even when journeying to a place covered in snow, he still hadn’t worn a shirt. “But know this: I have no intention of dying tonight. We’ll find Lucifer and crush him.”

“There’s a very thin line between confidence and arrogance. A line you straddle so often.” He forcefully grabbed my chin. “When you face Lucifer, do so with a level head. Don’t let Pride consume you.”

“I won’t.”

His expression softened, and he brushed his thumb over my bottom lip. “That’s my good boy.”

A low whimper climbed up my throat. “I love when you say that.”

He didn’t smile, but the hint of one reflected in his eyes. They looked warmer now. He then took my face in both his hands and kissed me.

What I didn’t say? I feared losing him too. That fear had me pressing closer, pushing my tongue past his lips and into the damp silkiness of his mouth. As we kissed among the grove of trees, I prayed it wasn’t our last.

Chapter Fourteen

Lazarus

Oliver landed in front of me, his white wings blending in with the falling snow. “Lucifer hasn’t moved from his location. He’s still in the castle.”

We had left the forest and traveled to a woodland not far from the castle. Part of it had been destroyed during World War II, but although crumbling in places, it stood tall with fortified walls and towers. Lights glowed from some of the windows, with the occasional dark shape passing in front of it.

“What of the witches?” I asked, scanning the surrounding land. A water mill set off to one side with a pond. More trees.

“With him, sir. Almost as though they’re waiting for something.”

“Or someone,” Michael said, gaze hard as he stared at the fortress. Snowflakes landed on his long eyelashes, reaching him through the branches of the trees we stood beneath, and he blinked them away.

“He knows we came for him.” Alastair softly exhaled, the slight shakiness of it the only sign of his nerves. The winter air brought out a slight rosiness in his cheeks, more noticeable because of the paleness of his skin. “While our scouts watched him, his kept tabs on us.”