Page 18

LILLITH

T hings had been tense when Dominc and Lillith had gotten home after the brief interaction with Hazel.

She had felt bad for pulling her hand away when he went to hold it on their walk home, after everything Hazel had sait, but it was reaction.

And she couldn’t for the life of her explain why or even grab his hand again after she saw the momentary hurt on his face.

There was simply too much to say and neither of them wanted to say it or even knew how. SO, DOminc sat on the couch pretending to read a magazine while Twyla sketched as she brainstormed ideas on what in the hell she was supposed to do.

When the tension was finally ebbing away, Lillith took a break from pretending to not care.

“Dominic, about earlier–”

There was a knock. Lillith let out an even heavier breath and went to answer the door, already not wanting to deal with whoever was on the other side. Before she could even get to it though, Twyla kicked in her front door.

Not literally. The woman had better manners than that. But the way her energy barreled into the room ahead of her cherry-red boots and wind-tousled hair sure made it feel like a siege.

“Get dressed, my fae-little-witchling,” Twyla announced, tossing a black mesh crop top and a pair of high-waisted jeans onto the kitchen table. “You’re going out tonight.”

Lillith blinked up from the mess of scrolls she’d been pretending to study since breakfast. “Twyla, I can’t. I’m busy.”

“All the more reason to go out,” Twyla said, hands on hips. “You’ve been holed up with your lion-boy for too long. The town’s starting to make bets on whether you’ve already eloped or if you’re gonna hex each other in your sleep.”

“I hate this town,” Lillith muttered.

“You love it and it loves you back,” Twyla said cheerfully, peering around the cottage. “Where is your walking emotional crisis, anyway?”

Lillith gestured vaguely toward the couch on the other side of the wall. “Dominic’s brooding. Or reading. Possibly both.”

Twyla grinned. “Perfect. Bring him too.”

“I don’t really have a choice in that department. And, I don’t want to go to karaoke night,” Lillith said flatly.

Twyla’s grin widened, terrifying. “Come on, you’re tethered, not dead. We’re going, end of story.”

The Gilded Fang was Celestial Pines’ only bar and arguably its most haunted.

It was built into what used to be an old bloodmage chapel, complete with stained glass windows and whispering bricks.

These days, it smelled more like lavender cocktails and spiced rum than curses, and its karaoke machine was slightly possessed by a minor banshee with a taste for '90s pop ballads.

The place was packed. Every booth was filled, witches and shifters shoulder to shoulder, drinks in hand, laughter bubbling like potion foam. Lillith stood near the bar, arms crossed, trying to ignore how Dominic’s heat radiated at her side.

He was wearing that damn smirk again—the one that always made her want to either kiss him or strangle him.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” she said under her breath.

He leaned down slightly, the barest touch of his breath grazing her ear. “What, seeing you voluntarily out in public? I’m shocked. I might need a drink to steady myself.”

She elbowed him. Gently. Sort of.

“You two are sickening,” Twyla sighed, sliding over with three enchanted margaritas. “Now drink, flirt, and let the curse live its best life.”

Lillith raised an eyebrow. “You’re a menace.”

“I’m your best friend,” Twyla corrected. “Now go sing.”

“I’m not singing.”

“Yes, you are,” Dominic said at the same time.

She turned to glare at him.

He raised his hands, palms out. “Look, if I’m gonna be forcibly tethered to someone, the least they can do is serenade me in front of an audience.”

“I swear on every rune in this town, Dominic Kane?—”

“I dare you,” he interrupted, eyes gleaming. “C’mon, Lil. Show me what a high fae heartbreaker sounds like.”

Oh, he was absolutely going to pay for that. But her feet were already moving, her pride tripping over her resistance.

The stage smelled like lemon oil and old spells. She picked an older track, something sultry and haunting, a song about love blooming in impossible places.

The second she opened her mouth, the room changed.

It wasn’t that her voice was perfect—it cracked on the low notes, caught on the high—but it was real. Raw. It hit like a spell soaked in moonlight. The kind of sound that made people feel things they didn’t want to say aloud.

She sang with her eyes closed at first enjoying her gravelly tone that she felt she did well with this song. WHen she finally got in the swing of it, she opened them and all she could see was Dominic.

He hadn’t moved. Not an inch. His eyes were locked on hers like the whole world had narrowed to just this: her, standing in shadowlight, pouring pieces of herself into the air, unguarded.

When the last note faded, silence held for a beat too long before applause broke out—cheers and whistles and a very loud “That’s my girl!” from Twyla.

Lillith flushed, breath coming faster than the song demanded. She hopped down from the stage and started back toward the bar.

Dominic met her halfway.

“Don’t say it,” she warned, cheeks still pink.

“I wasn’t going to.”

“You were.”

“I wasn’t.”

She stopped walking. “Fine. What were you going to say?”

He stepped in close—close enough that the air crackled between them again. “Just that... you looked like magic up there.”

Her shields stuttered.

“Dominic.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re the worst.”

He grinned. “And yet... here you are.”

She punched his shoulder. Light. Affectionate.

His hand caught hers before it dropped.

Fingers laced together.

Like it was nothing. Like it was everything.

Hours passed. Drinks flowed. Stories were traded. Laughter filled the corners of the bar like wardlight.

Lillith hadn’t meant to stay this long. She hadn’t meant to like it this much, either.

When Dominic pulled her toward the dance floor just once, just for a slow song that felt stitched from stardust and dreams, she didn’t resist.

His arms slid around her waist. Her hands rested against his chest. And the bond between them buzzed low and steady, not painful now. Just... present. Like a thread tying them to the same heartbeat.

“You’re not what I expected,” she murmured.

“Let me guess,” he said. “You thought I was just a pretty face with a roguish smile and a bad reputation?”

“Well, you are that.”

“But?”

She looked up at him. “You’ve got depth. Just hidden under six layers of arrogance and half a closet of leather jackets.”

His grin softened. “Guess you’re peeling me back.”

“Don’t get cocky.”

“Too late.”

The music ended. People clapped. But Lillith didn’t move right away. Neither did he.

Eventually, she let out a breath and stepped back. “We should go. It’s late.”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice rough. “Let’s get you home, witchling.

” And when he reached for her hand again, she didn’t stop him.

Because for tonight, just tonight... it felt good to be tethered.

To be known. To be wanted. Without fear.

Even if tomorrow meant more questions and if forever still scared her.

Tonight, she was Lillith. And Dominic was hers.