Page 22

LILLITH

T he boy lay between them, still trembling but breathing— alive . Barely.

Lillith’s knees burned against the cobblestone, scraped raw from sliding to his side without care.

Her palms pressed gently against his chest where just moments before, jagged runes had blazed across his skin—burning, twisting, trying to consume him from the inside out.

Now, those runes had faded to faint, scorched outlines, like the embers of a dying fire.

His skin was damp with sweat, his breath shallow and rapid, heart fluttering beneath her fingers like a bird on its last wingbeat.

She felt her own magic trembling inside her, stretched to its edge. “Dominic,” she whispered, voice hoarse from chanting. “I think we did it.”

They hadn’t planned it. There hadn’t been time.

The moment the boy collapsed, Lillith’s magic had surged forward, desperate, raw, and unfamiliar in its intensity. Shadow magic wasn’t just affliction—it infested. It clung. The boy’s soul had been unraveling, thread by thread, when she touched him.

And Dominic had been the anchor.

He’d dropped beside her without hesitation, placing both his hands over hers. His warmth grounded her. His power—solid, feral, steady—wrapped around her like a second spell. It had pulled her back when the curse tried to take her down with it.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she’d gasped as the boy’s body seized.

“Yes, you do,” he’d said, his voice low but fierce. “Trust your magic. I’ve got you.”

Her hands had glowed then, the light from her palms softening from gold to silver. She hadn’t used silver magic since she was a child. It was pure, born of instinct, not training. And it had met the shadows in the boy’s body like fire against oil.

The runes had screamed.

Dominic had held the boy down while she chanted, the language older than her own bloodline, words taught by the stars themselves. Her spell wasn’t a cure—but it was a counterweight. It had shifted the scales long enough to give him a chance.

He thrashed once more—hard—and then stilled.

Dominic leaned in close, two fingers at the boy’s throat. “He’s got a pulse.”

“His soul’s still tethered,” she breathed. “Barely.”

“I can help with that,” Dominic muttered, already pulling off the charm he wore around his neck. It was a lion’s fang, polished smooth and etched with pride markings.

“Dominic, that’s?—”

“I don’t care,” he growled. “He needs grounding.”

He placed the fang against the boy’s chest and murmured something in a low rumble that wasn’t quite words. It wasn’t a spell in the traditional sense—it was primal. The language of lions, of old protectors, of the wild magic that had birthed the pride long before shifters ever walked on two legs.

The boy jerked—and then stilled again, this time for good.

His breathing evened.

The cursed markings faded to nothing more than ghostly scars.

And silence fell across the square.

Lillith let her hands drop. Her shoulders slumped. She didn’t even realize she was shaking until Dominic reached out and caught her elbow.

“You okay?” he asked, voice softer now, the fight draining from him too.

She didn’t answer. Just looked down at the boy, then back at Dominic, then nodded slowly.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I think we did it.”

“Yeah,” he rasped. “We pulled him back.”

Together.

It hadn’t been some carefully crafted ritual or a pre-planned incantation that had saved the kid.

It had been instinct— their instinct. A split-second surge of Lillith’s magic, twisted and bent to the rhythm of Dominic’s heartbeat, echoing through the bond like a song only the two of them could hear.

She’d used his strength. His steadiness.

And he’d used her light.

The realization hit her with the weight of a storm. They were better together.

Dominic reached down, brushing a damp curl from the boy’s forehead, his fingers trembling slightly. Not from fear—Dominic Kane didn’t fear. But from the aftershock of brushing so close to death. Again.

“We need to get him to Markus and Rowan,” she said. “They’ll know how to stabilize him.”

He nodded again, already scooping the boy up into his arms like he weighed nothing. The muscle in his jaw ticked.

“Stay close.”

“As if I have a choice,” she muttered, but the words held no heat.

They made it to Markus and Rowan’s in record time, Lillith clearing a space on the old velvet couch while Dominic laid the boy down.

Rowan was already on his feet with healing salves, and Markus started chanting a stabilization ward.

Dominic’s shirt was soaked with the boy’s sweat and shadow-ash. He didn’t seem to care.

“You’re both insane,” Rowan said, wiping his hands on a cloth. “But it worked.”

Lillith sank into a chair, arms trembling, stomach in knots. Her magic had been scorched raw. Her emotions are not far behind.

Rowan shot her a glance. “And you,” he said, voice softer now, “you need to stop running from what you already have.”

Her throat tightened. He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to.

Later, when the boy was resting, breathing evenly, and Rowan had ushered them into the spare room to rest, Lillith sat on the edge of the bed and stared at her hands.

They were still faintly glowing.

“You okay?” Dominic asked from the doorway, his voice low, cautious.

She looked up. He had changed into a clean shirt, one of Rowan’s probably, and his hair was still damp from the quick rinse in the basin. He looked tired. Handsome. Worn around the edges in a way that made her chest ache.

“Not really,” she admitted.

He crossed the room in two long strides and sat beside her. The mattress dipped beneath his weight, and their knees brushed.

“It wasn’t just the magic,” she said. “It was... us. That’s why it worked.”

“I know.”

Dominic leaned back on his hands, staring up at the ceiling like it held all the answers. “The other night,” he continued, voice tighter now, “outside the tavern... I wasn’t just kissing you, Lil. I was choosing you.”

Her heart pounded so loud she was sure he could hear it.

“I know I’m not perfect,” he said. “I’ve been angry. Rough around the edges. Hell, I’ve probably made this harder than it needed to be. But I’ve never lied to you. Not once. And I meant it when I said I wasn’t afraid of this anymore.”

She turned toward him. Their eyes met.

“I love you,” Dominic said. Quietly. Firmly. Like it was fact.

She inhaled sharply. And couldn’t say it back. Not because she didn’t want to. Because she didn’t know how.

“I…” Her throat closed. “Dominic, I?—”

“It’s okay,” he said, a little too quickly.

“No, it’s not.”

“It is.” He stood suddenly, crossing the room with his arms folded tight over his chest. “You don’t have to say it. I just needed you to know. ”

She stared at his back, the rigid line of his shoulders. “It’s not that I don’t?—”

He turned, eyes blazing. “Then what is it, Lillith? You scared it’s not real? Scared of the bond?”

“Yes!” she burst out. “I am scared! Because what if it’s all just magic playing tricks on us? What if none of it’s real and I lose myself again like I did in the courts?”

“I’ve spent my whole life guarding my heart,” she whispered. “I’m not sure how to just hand it over.”

Dominic looked at her for a long, aching moment.

“Then maybe I need to stop trying to convince you I’m not a mistake,” he said, voice low and rough. “Because if you can’t even consider that this could be real... then what’s the point?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Just walked to the door, paused, and said without turning, “I’m going to check on the kid.” Then he was gone.

She sat alone in the quiet, every word echoing in her chest like a curse of her own making.

He loved her. And she loved him back but was too cowardly to say it. And now, she’d let that be the thing that hurt them both.