Page 24

LILLITH

T he light in Pines and Needles filtered in slow, golden slants through the lace curtains, touching everything with a deceptive gentleness. It smelled faintly of cedar, lavender, and something spicier—Dominic’s cologne clinging to the air like memory.

Lillith stirred on the old velvet couch, a tangle of limbs and half-forgotten dreams. Her eyes blinked open against the morning, slow to adjust. Her neck ached. Her back protested. But it wasn’t any of those things that pulled her to consciousness.

It was the clarity.

That quiet, aching clarity that sometimes only came after a night full of restless sleep and dreams you couldn’t quite hold onto. She stared at the ceiling, watched the dust motes dance in the beams of light. Her heart fluttered, fragile and wild.

She had to tell him.

No more waiting. No more weaving herself in circles of doubt and protection. No more telling herself that he’d walk away eventually, that she was just something temporary for him to fixate on.

Because the truth was louder now than her fear.

He loved her.

And she loved him right back.

She’d felt it in the way his eyes lingered just a second too long when she looked away, in the gentleness of his hands when he thought she was asleep, in the way he never tried to own her magic or tame her fire. Only ever stood beside it. Shielded it. Believed in it.

He hadn’t just fought for her. He’d waited. He’d endured. Even when she’d given him every reason not to.

And last night, when she pushed too hard, crossed that fragile line between protection and cruelty—he hadn’t shouted. He hadn’t stormed off. He’d just hurt. Quietly. Deeply.

If he could stop trying… so could she.

If he could risk everything to be honest, then she could too.

She sat up slowly, running her fingers through her sleep-mussed curls, breath catching in her throat. “I have to tell him,” she murmured into the morning hush. “I have to tell him.”

No excuses. No more hiding behind her childhood of rigid court manners and silent betrayals. No more blaming her father’s abandonment or the way the high fae used affection as a weapon.

Dominic wasn’t them. He never had been. Maybe he was the first person who could love her without trying to change her.

She stood quickly, feet bare against the creaky wood floor, the air cool against her skin. She could still feel the echo of his presence—warmth in the cushions, the scent of his skin on her sleeve where he’d brushed past her the night before.

He couldn’t have gone far. Not with the tether. Not with the bond.

She was going to find him. She was going to say the words. Finally. No riddles. No sarcasm. Just truth. Because if love meant anything—if they meant anything—then it was time she stopped hexing her own happiness.

She was ready.

Only… when she reached for him, reached for the magic that always pulsed between them like a heartbeat, there was nothing.

It was the silence.

Not the usual morning quiet of Celestial Pines, no. This was deeper. Emptier. Her chest felt hollow. The tether… it was gone.

For a split second, she blamed it on the way they’d left things last night—too many unsaid things, too many glances that stung and words that burned. Maybe he was just keeping his distance, sleeping off the ache of disappointment.

But the ache she felt wasn’t from guilt or anger. It was from absence.

She sat upright, the blanket falling off her lap. Her hand flew to her chest, pressing hard, like she could find the thread of their connection again if she just looked hard enough.

Nothing.

“Dominic?” she called out. The way she used to, like a joke. Like a challenge.

No answer.

She stood too fast. Her vision blurred. Her magic surged.

She moved from room to room, panic building with each breath. No muddy boots by the door. No half-drunk mug of coffee on the counter. No lion curled in the corner pretending not to care.

Her bond. Her anchor.

Gone.

Lillith staggered into the back hall and flung open the door to the guest room where the boy from the market lay. Her fingers shook as she touched his forehead.

Still warm. Still breathing. The shadow runes were gone. His color had returned. He was stable.

So why did it feel like everything was unraveling?

She stormed outside barefoot, the gravel biting into her skin, pain grounding her in the present moment. Her breath clouded in the early morning air. “Dominic!”

No answer. And this time, when she reached out with her magic to sense him—she felt nothing. Like he’d been carved out of her, root and stem.

“No, no, no…”

She didn’t think—just moved.

The forest greeted her like an old friend with bad intentions. Whispering Woods lived up to its name this morning, the trees humming softly in a language few dared understand. Moss clung to every stone. The earth was wet beneath her feet.

Every hair on her arms stood on end.

Magic buzzed here—strong, old, angry.

He hadn’t left her. He’d been taken. And if anyone in this realm was cruel and cunning enough to tear them apart with such precision, it was Thaloryn.

She shoved her fingers through her curls, breathing hard, heart pounding. She’d spent her life keeping people out, keeping her power neat, her soul guarded. And now the one person who cracked through all that without permission was missing.

Because she’d hesitated. Pushed. Pulled. Guarded herself right into his absence.

“I will not lose him,” she hissed.

The wind answered, swirling dead leaves at her feet.

She stepped deeper into the trees, her fingers outstretched. She felt the faintest echo of him—faint, as if it were memory rather than magic.

She dropped to her knees in a circle of frost-covered violets, the place where ley lines met. She hadn’t done this kind of magic since she left the high fae courts. She’d sworn never to draw from that part of herself again.

But for Dominic she’d burn it all down. And she hated the fact that it took her this long to really see that.

She carved a circle into the dirt with her dagger, fingers nimble despite the chill.

She laid her blood on the center, then her breath, then the charm she always wore hidden beneath her blouse—a scrap of gold thread from her mother’s wedding robes.

She’d told herself once it was for protection.

But really, it had always been a connection.

To love.

To loss.

She whispered the words in the language of stars and wind, voice shaking. “Take me to him. Show me what I can’t see. Bind me to his path.”

The trees trembled. The wind stopped. And something ancient stirred.

It wasn’t an answer. Not yet. But it was a pulse. A direction.

Her fingers clenched around the charm. “I’ll trade anything. I’ll give anything. Just bring him back.”

She had never meant it before, but now, finally, she did. Her soul. Her magic. Her name. The parts of herself she’d spent decades protecting.

She stood slowly, her face pale and set. Because she knew now. Dominic hadn’t left. He’d been taken.

And she was going to get him back. Even if it meant walking through fire. Even if it meant calling down the wrath of every realm.

She was done running. Because somewhere out there, Dominic was fighting to come back to her.

And this time, she’d fight too.