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LUKE

I watch her sleep, the soft rise and fall of her chest, the occasional flutter of her eyelashes as she dreams. The pain inside me recedes slightly when I’m with her, as if her presence helps contain the feral spread through my veins.

For over fifteen hundred years, I’ve existed without truly needing anyone. I’ve had companions, lovers, friends—even a mate once, centuries ago before Lucius took her from me—but never someone who felt essential to my survival. Until Gaida. Until Felix and Dante, too, if I’m honest with myself.

The connection between them throbs with life, and somehow, I’ve become entangled in it. I should resent this vulnerability, this weakness. Instead, I’m clinging to it as the darkness inside me grows.

Where I expected jealousy and possession, I find only acceptance in this circle. Taking her with Dante before wasn’t something I thought I would ever do, and yet, she wanted it. I wanted to give it to her.

I never thought I would want to share her, but the bond between them is something ancient and powerful—something that extends beyond my understanding, even after all these years. It feels right, in a way I can’t explain.

My body burns with fever, the feral virus working its way through my system faster than I can fight it. I’ve been hiding the true extent of it from everyone, even Felix, though I suspect he knows more than he lets on. That boy sees too much, and I think I know why.

I ease myself away from Gaida, careful not to wake her. She stirs slightly, reaching for me in her sleep, but settles when I place a pillow where I was lying. Standing by the bed, I watch her for a moment longer, memorising the curve of her cheek, the fullness of her lips, the way her dark hair spills across my pillow.

If Felix’s potion doesn’t work…

I make my way over to the armoire and open the bottom drawer. In the false bottom lies a stake, the sister to the one that Dante took from me and shows no signs of giving back. I’ve lived long enough to know that if it comes to it, I will meet my end on the sharp end of this. I pick it up and prick my finger on the tip. I don’t fear death. I never have. Lucius made me long for it. He made me fear to be alive.

I place the stake down again and pick up the timestone that I liberated from Constantine when he took me back to my world. He will find a way to come here and kick my arse for it. I will return it. I have no need for it. If I survive this, I want to stay here with Gaida, not return to my place of birth.

I turn the timestone over in my hands, feeling its weight. It’s a relic from our world, one that shouldn’t exist here. Just like me. Just like Felix, apparently.

The boy’s origins are becoming more clear and it doesn’t surprise me as much as it should. There’s something familiar about him, something that resonates with my own energy. The way his magick feels like mine, how his mind works along the same paths.

A soft knock at my bedroom door pulls me from my thoughts. I tuck the timestone away and close the drawer before moving silently across the room, dressing myself as I go with a flash of magick. Gaida remains asleep, undisturbed.

Felix stands in the hallway, his expression grave, a vial of midnight blue liquid in his hand. “It’s ready,” he says simply.

“How did you get up here?”

He smirks.”I have my ways.”

I step out into the hall, closing the door behind me. “You are too brazen for your own good.”

“Do you want this or not?” He holds up the vial.

“That was quick. Are you sure it’s correct?”

“I worked quickly.” His eyes track over me. “You’re worse than you let on.”

“And you’re more perceptive than is good for you,” I reply, taking the vial from him.

“Remember, this is temporary. It should buy you time to make decisions. A few days, a week at most.”

“Decisions?” I raise an eyebrow.

“You know exactly what I mean. Gaida can help you figure this out if you let her, before you do something stupid.”

“Stupid?” I baulk at him.

“Like remove yourself from this world. Or all worlds…”

“What makes you think I would do that?”

“It’s what I would do.”

“And you believe you are like me?”

“Don’t you?”

The challenge is laid bare.

“There is more to this than either one of us knows.”

“Are you willing to find out?”

“Are you?” I stare at him for a long moment. The boy is too smart for his own good, too perceptive. I can see myself in him, and that worries me more than I care to admit.

“Drink the potion,” he says instead of answering, nodding toward the vial in my hand. “Then we can discuss our mutual existential crises.”

I uncork the vial and sniff it cautiously. The scent is nauseating. “You’ve added your blood to this.”

Felix shrugs. “The Guardian said my blood would bind. Seemed relevant.”

“Bind what, exactly?”

“One way to find out.”

“You are a risk taker. I don’t like that for Gaida.”

“So be around to rein me in.”

I shoot him a death stare. No one in their right mind has ever challenged me like he does. “We are related somehow.”

“That’s my guess.” His gaze is steady, but I see the flicker of fear in the grey depths. “Want to take a stab at how?”

“Not yet. Do you?”

“Nope.”

“My family has long since died.”

“So has mine.”

“Do you know what this means?”

“That I’ve fallen in love with the same woman as my… some kind of relative?” He waves his hand about vaguely.

“Apart from that.” Love. That is what he needs.

“It means that whatever brought us to this world—or kept us here—was deliberate.”

“Quite. After fifteen hundred years, I’ve learned not to discount anything.” I look down at the vial again. “What else is in this besides your blood?”

“You don’t want to know. Just drink it.”

I hesitate only a moment longer before bringing the vial to my lips and drinking it in one swallow. The taste is beyond foul. It’s like drinking liquid darkness mixed with metal and ash. My body immediately tries to reject it, every cell screaming in protest.

Felix watches me intently, ready to catch me if I fall. But I remain standing, forcing the potion to stay down through sheer will.

“How long?” I ask through gritted teeth.

“The effects should start within minutes,” he says.

The burning sensation spreads from my stomach outward, racing along my veins like wildfire. It’s agonising, but different from the pain of the severance. This pain is constructive, like something being rebuilt.

The burning fades, replaced by a sensation of ice flowing through my veins. The constant tremors that have plagued me subside. I flex my fingers, noticing the steadiness returning to my hands.

“How do you feel?” Felix asks, studying my face.

“Better.” I’m surprised by its truth. The feral rage that’s been clawing at my consciousness has receded to a dull pressure rather than an imminent explosion. “Much better.”

“Good. That should give you time to sort out a permanent solution.”

I look up at him, this boy—no, this man—who carries himself with confidence beyond his years. “Thank you.”

He seems startled by my gratitude. “Don’t thank me yet. This is temporary.”

“So you keep saying.”

“So you remember that this isn’t a foolproof plan.”

I breathe in deeply. It doesn’t hurt. If anything, it feels pleasurable. “Go to her. She needs you,” I murmur.

He stares at me. “I’m not ready.”

“You are. You told me you are in love with her. What more do you need?”

“For her to love me back.”

“Oh, I think she does. But in your words, only one way to find out.” I slap him on the shoulder and use my magick to leave him standing in the hallway outside my room, a certain sense of joy coursing through me that I’m stable enough to do whatever needs to be done to end this.