Page 8

LILLITH

T he cottage had finally unsealed itself with a reluctant sigh, like even the magic was tired of their bickering.

Lillith hadn’t realized how much she missed the simple act of walking outside—feeling the ground breathe beneath her boots, the weight of the woods pressing in like a familiar hug.

She’d always loved her home, loved the quiet charm of its creaky floors and herb-drenched air…

but being trapped with Dominic Kane in such close quarters had made even the coziest corner feel like a cage.

Now that they could move beyond her garden without triggering a curse-induced migraine, she didn’t hesitate.

She needed space. Answers. Air that hadn’t been recycled through Dominic’s smirks and lion-sized ego.

Not that he was far—he couldn’t be—but at least now she could pretend they weren’t tethered at the soul.

And Echo Woods—wild, ancient, whispering Echo Woods—seemed to sense her need.

Today, the air was thick with voices.

Not wind. Not animals. Not the rustle of dry leaves under boot soles.

No—these were the kinds of whispers that wrapped around your spine, soft as silk and twice as dangerous.

Words half-heard, truths half-known, carried on the hush of old magic.

The kind that pressed against your ribs like a secret trying to get out.

Lillith had walked these woods hundreds of times. Alone, mostly. Sometimes with Twyla if there was an eclipse or a strong moon pull. But never like this.

Never with him.

She glanced over her shoulder. Dominic wasn’t far—couldn’t be. His boots crunched quietly just behind hers, thirty feet being the edge of their invisible leash. Still, the space between them felt more crowded than it should have. Like the air had rearranged itself to fit the shape of him.

He didn’t speak, for once. Just watched the trees, the worn path, her back.

They were looking for signs. Anything the spirits might cough up. Answers, direction, a way to untangle the binding spell that had turned their lives into a soap opera with magical claws.

The path narrowed as they reached a patch where moonlight poured through the branches like a sieve of silver. The trees here bent slightly inward, trunks older than some kingdoms, bark split and shimmering faintly with moss and old enchantments.

Lillith slowed.

Dominic stopped with her. “This where the creepy part starts?”

She glanced at him. His smile was half-hearted this time, like he was trying to be funny but not really feeling it.

“It’s always been the creepy part,” she murmured, voice low. “It just doesn’t mind me as much.”

They walked on. After a few steps, she spoke again. “You know, I’ve lived here my whole life.”

“I figured.”

“You’ve been here… what, five years?”

“Six,” he corrected, stepping around a root. “Moved after the mess with the Appalachian Pride. Needed out. Hazel offered sanctuary. The rest is cozy paranormal history.”

She hummed. “We’ve never really talked.”

“No,” he agreed. “We’ve circled. Thrown shade. I think you threatened to hex my car once.”

“You parked in front of the Moon Market during the blood moon,” she said flatly. “You could’ve disrupted every ward in a two-mile radius.”

He chuckled. “See, that’s the kind of thing normal people don’t say.”

“I’m not normal people.”

“Clearly.”

She smirked despite herself.

But it was strange, wasn’t it? Knowing someone so well from a distance. Knowing their voice in a crowd, the way they held a drink, the tilt of their smirk—without ever sharing a real conversation. That was small-town life. You knew of people. But not with them.

And Dominic Kane, he’d always been one of those “of” people. Loud. Golden. That lion swagger and easy charm that made the café witches sigh and the shifter council groan. She hadn’t thought much of him. Until now.

Until the woods started speaking.

A chill gust curled between them. Not cold, exactly, but heavy. Like something watching.

Lillith stopped beside an old pine. Its bark was scarred with sigils—old ones. Moon-born. She pressed a hand to the trunk. Magic pulsed beneath her palm like a slow heartbeat.

The whispers changed.

Fate. Bond. Mate. Curse.

She flinched and snatched her hand back.

Dominic was already moving toward her. “What is it?”

“They’re talking.”

“The trees?”

“The spirits.” Her voice was thin. “They know.”

He didn’t touch her. But his presence got closer, steadying. “Know what?”

“That we’re…” She couldn’t say the word. Linked . Bound . Cursed with some version of fated connection neither of them wanted to unpack too deeply.

He looked at the tree, then her. “Did they say how to break it?”

She shook her head. “Just... whispered. About love. And choice. And losing.”

A beat passed.

“I don’t like that last one,” he said quietly.

She didn’t either. Not one bit.

They walked again, slower this time. The path led them to a clearing where foxfire glowed beneath the roots, illuminating patches of ground with pale blue light. Lillith stepped onto a stone at the center and knelt, tracing her fingers over a crescent-shaped carving.

Dominic stood behind her. “This spot mean something?”

“It’s a seer’s altar,” she said. “Hazel used to bring me here when I was little. Said the veil thins on moonlight like this. That sometimes, if you ask gently, the forest answers.”

“You gonna ask it?”

She paused. “I think it already did.”

He crouched beside her, forearms resting on his knees. Close. Not touching.

“What if it’s right?” he asked, voice quiet. “What if this isn’t a curse?”

She turned to him. “You want it to be real?”

His eyes met hers. “I want to know what you want.”

That threw her. She blinked, unsure what to say.

She wanted answers. She wanted peace. She wanted him to stop looking at her like she was something soft. Something his lion could curl around and keep.

She didn’t want to admit how much she liked that look.

Suddenly, a breeze stirred the clearing. Petals—not from any tree she recognized—spun through the air and landed at her feet.

Pink. Soft. Glowing faintly.

Dominic plucked one off her shoulder. “This feel like a curse to you?”

She took it from him slowly. “It feels like a trap.”

He tilted his head. “Not every trap is a bad one.”

Their eyes locked again.

The pull between them wasn’t just magical anymore. It was them. The way his voice lowered when he asked questions that mattered. The way her name softened on his tongue now, not a curse but something close to curiosity.

He was arrogant, and reckless, and too smooth for his own good. But he was here. Walking the woods. Listening to the trees.

And she was letting him.

They didn’t kiss. Not this time. But she didn’t step away either.

And when they left the clearing, their steps matched. Like they’d done this before, lifetimes ago, and were just remembering how.