Page 187 of Cursed Evermore

A fool who'd opened her heart to her villain.

Chapter 36

Wolfe

“Too Close to the Flame”

Istood there in the garden frozen, no different from the stone statues of gargoyles and goblins surrounding me. The morning air was thick with the scent of jasmine, but it might as well have been ash in my lungs.

The sight of Elariya's retreating figure sent more rage coursing through my veins, sharp as blades, potent as poison. Not at her, though; that would have been easier. No, this rage wasn't the clean burn of justified anger but something uglier, directed squarely at myself.

Sure enough, I was furious at her recklessness, at Garrick's absence, at her flight with Hedion, at the fucking danger she'd put herself in, and the way she'd looked at me like I was exactly the monster I'd proven myself to be.

But most of all, the rage burning through me was for the noxious words that had spilled from my mouth. And the way I'd just destroyed whatever fragile trust had existed between us.

I'd foolishly shattered something I didn't know was so precious to me with my callous words.

The bitter taste of my own cruelty lingered in my mouth, and my hands were clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms, threatening to draw blood.

I continued watching her walk away from me with her spine rigid from wounded pride, and I wanted to put my fist through something.

I wished I could slam it through the walls she'd placed up and the hurt that had bloomed in those beautiful eyes before she'd hidden it behind ice.

I wished I could turn back time and go back to the moment I'd touched her to check she was okay. If I'd possessed such power, I'd try to control my panic and stop myself from losing my shit. But after knowing the terror I'd experienced during those moments, I was certain I would still manage to fuck things up.

Three hundred years of life in this world, and nothing had terrified me more than when I'd imagined Elariya falling to her death from the dragon's back.

Nothing could remove the raw dread that clogged my heart like tar when I thought she could have died and I wouldn't have been able to save her.

It was just chance that I'd felt her through the shackles, which meant there was a very real possibility that I wouldn't have gotten to her in time.

I was away flying Pyrion in the Outterlands, where her massive frame had room to properly stretch. Unlike Hedion, she required vast distances and extended flight time. Sometimes, I even allowed her to range to the farthest territories alone. Today, I'd been trying to manage too many things at once. Checking in with Bastian and Alaric at the border camp, reviewing the complexities of the spell, and all the other countless matters demanding my attention.

My fucking mind was all over the place. When I'd felt the pull through the shackles alerting me Elariya was in danger, I was already too late. Then I'd seen her flying on Hedion's back, two thousand feet in the air without so much as a stirrup to hold on to.

I could still see her falling in my head. Cold sweat still clung to my skin, and the terror replayed over and over again, even though nothing had happened and she was safe and sound.

Despite those real feelings of terror for a woman who'd become the exception to all my rules, I'd handled everything wrong, said everything wrong.

Three hundred years on this earth, and I'd dutifully managed to ruin the only connection I'd formed with a woman I cared about.

Fuck, I cared.

I cared and could no longer fool myself into thinking the little mage meant nothing to me.

My damn ring had probably stopped being my sole focus from the instant my shields dropped in that tavern in Stormfell and she'd looked at me. In those eyes I'd seen more. Light. Love. Hope. Happiness. Things a dark soul like me could never have.

With my heart fracturing, I watched Elariya disappear into the manor with Garrick. She never looked back. Not once. And that small detail ignited something savage in my soul that shouldn't exist.

But…maybe this whole thing was for the best. Best for us both.

No matter what claim I'd made on her and my relentless obsession, the harsh reality of our situation was I couldn't be with her, and out of principle, she couldn't be with me.

My cruelty had brought things back into perspective, and now that she saw me asLord Nightblade, that distance between us had become a gorge.

I'd never set out on this quest looking for anything other than my ring, and wanting anything more than to be free of my curse and get my kingdom back. So, I shouldn't desire anything more from her.

Besides, today's shitshow had just added more to the mystery of my mage and had me questioningwhoandwhatshe truly was.