Page 52 of Demon Heart: The Complete Series

XAVIER

I smael and Past Me watched on as I tried to wake up the unconscious witch.

“Who is this man?” Ismael asked, making my pulse race harder.

“His name is Roman, and he needs help.”

“Your lover?”

I froze, finding my gaze fixed to his.

“You care for him,” he continued. “The way you touch him, the way you…” He stopped, wrapping his arms around himself.

How his beautiful mind must be so terribly confused.

I’m sorry, Ismael…

It hurt to look at him.

Past Me glowered. “Never. I would never care for anyone but you, My Prince.” He embraced his one true love, holding him with so much surety.

If only you knew of the future to come… “Can we go somewhere more comfortable and talk?” Down a lane behind those trees sat a small cottage surrounded by sour blackberry bushes—far too sour to ever eat.

Unless you were Ismael. He adored the sharp sensation, often baked a sour blackberry pie only he would enjoy.

This place was our little hideaway in the gentle woodlands and meadows of Level 548—one of a thousand levels that made up the demon realm.

“Until you disappear again,” Past Me said. “Or lead us into some trap.” The spinnerets appeared, rage practically rippling through his muscles. “I won’t let your hurt my prince.”

“I’m not here to hurt him. I told you I’m, we’re , from the future.”

“Impossible.”

Within the span of a minute, Roman took us to the present and back again. Even unconscious, the magic continued to work. He twitched on the grass, his lips trembling.

His fair, golden complexion took on ashier hues. He looked so ill, so weak, when he normally radiated a fierce strength. I stroked his golden skin, unable to stop myself from admiring the fine streaks of silver in his black hair.

Every detail was burned into my mind, from those amber eyes, to his jawline dusted with artful facial hair, and the witch mark on his forehead—a red triangle with a star at the center.

A heavy load of helplessness overcame me.

“What do I do?” I asked him.

Roman. Ismael. The past. I scrambled to make sense of things, to find at least one solution, anything that made sense.

This place. A happy part of my past, one of our two getaways, along with my grand mansion in Level 707.

Away from the palace and royal machinations of Level 500.

Both sanctuaries just for us. So many happy memories returned to me.

Holding hands and making love, silly moments, feeding him sweet biscuits.

Playful times, laying under these blossom trees reading books.

Endless kisses, the promise of forever ahead of us.

From this point in time—211 years ago to be exact—Ismael’s father will be slain by a witch in three months, on April 21, in the human realm.

Three months until the prince becomes the king. Until this gentle soul transforms into the hateful tyrant, forever lost to unyielding darkness.

I can save him.

The thought burst through the fog as a bright spark.

Save him? No. I couldn’t do that. Time and history were already done with him, his fate sealed in the past and in the present. He had to stay within the frozen lake.

Yet, this was the past. I was back here, interacting with it. Living and breathing the impossible.

I can save him.

Had Roman come into my life to help me change the past? To give me back my Ismael?

No. Ridiculous! Why would this need to be changed?

Of all the moments in history, a witch would not be granted the power to time travel to fix this period.

Why not the moment when Arcana died? That was still eleven years away from now.

A witch would certainly want to prevent the end of the ancient magic they once depended on—the only thing able to kill my kind.

“I think we should take them to the cottage,” Ismael said, his voice sending ripples of electricity across every cell of my skin.

I kept my eyes on Roman, listening to his long sleeping breaths. He’d awakened long-dead sensations in me, infected my life in the best possible way the moment he’d saved me from Tanith’s silver-clad minions. Made me believe in the possibility of caring for someone again.

My intriguing, sexy witch…

“I don’t like this,” Past Me responded. “You should get to safety first, My Prince. Let me deal with them.”

“I will not leave your side, my love.”

Both of my hearts ached in response to Ismael’s words.

Why here? What happened to bring us here? I tried to think of anything significant, but it waited three months ahead. These preceding days were happy ones. Every single one of them.

Roman moaned, his eyes slowly opening. “What… What the hell…”

“I’m here.” I stroked his cheeks.

“Xavier…” His features scrunched up with pain. “Did I get hit by a bus?”

“Pardon?”

“I feel like absolute shit.” His hands locked gently around my arms. “Water…”

I looked up, meeting myself in the eye. “Please let me get him to the cottage.”

Ismael tilted his head to the side. “Is he dying?”

“No. But he needs water and rest. This magic is hurting him.”

“Then he is a witch,” Past Me said. “He has to die.”

“Touch him and I’ll strangle you with your own silk.” Part of me found threatening myself a little amusing.

Past Me snarled. “Try, impostor. I’ll?—”

The magic stirred. I readied myself for more time hopping, but Roman’s body flickered, not breaking apart.

“Fuck…” he groaned, dry retching.

I lifted his head to the side, making sure to support his body. “Vomit if you have to.”

“I’m sick of being sick,” he complained.

Ismael glanced between us, then took his love by the arms. “We have to help.”

“No.”

“But—”

“No.” So stern to his prince. “Enough of this. I’m?—”

“You will obey my command.” Ismael straightened his spine, becoming so much taller, those black wings bursting from his back, twisted horns of obsidian clawing out of his skull.

He transformed into his true demonic form, a beast of seven feet, his skin covered in amber scales, hands becoming deadly talons.

How small I looked next to him now.

“I want to help them.” Ismael’s voice boomed, the softness gone. “We will listen to their story, we will not submit to violence.”

That thinking will change soon…

Past Me went to one knee, his head bowed. “Yes, Your Highness. Forgive my insolence. I only have your best interests at heart.”

“There is a reason this is happening, my love. And I mean to discover why.” Ismael returned to his smaller form, cupping Past Me by the chin. “You may stand.”

He did, the lovers embracing, Ismael kissing his cheek.

My cheek.

I tore my attention away, gluing it to the future.

Unless…

…the future could change.

Why could I not shake that idea?

I had to.

I needed to.

“Bring him to the cottage,” Ismael said.

“Thank you.” I slid my arms under the witch. “Can I carry you?”

He swallowed, a sickly sheen shimmering on his face. “Carry away.”

I took him into my arms, staring ahead. If I didn’t look at him, or at Ismael, the threat of confusion ready to tear me apart wouldn’t claim me.

After ten steps, it failed.

Roman.

Ismael.

The chance to live a better present.

The chance to change the past.

Were either possible?

Roman mattered most now. Getting him better, stopping this magic. He should be my priority.

Do not come apart…

Past Me walked beside me, leaning close to whisper, “One false move, and I’ll return your threat.”