Page 16

16

DANTE

T he bleeding stopped, but I still feel like I got hit by a semi made of silver and bad decisions.

The poison’s mostly gone. Tamsin’s salves helped that I keep stored in the loft, and I’ve got enough shifter blood left in me to patch skin and muscle. But I’m not healed. Not really. Something inside me’s still... off. Unsettled. Like the blow cracked more than bone.

And the longer I sit still, the worse it gets.

There’s a tug in my chest. Not physical—but real . A magnetic hum under my ribs, yanking me east, toward the older districts where the Veil runs thinner. It’s her. Has to be. The bond’s tighter than ever, like a live wire threading through my goddamn veins. I know I need to rest, but I can’t stay away.

Even if it kills me.

Even if it kills her .

But I won’t let that happen. I’ll die before I let anyone lay a hand on her. I just have to find her first.

I follow the pull past the edge of the city, where the streets start breaking apart and magic leaks through the cracks like spilled paint. Old ruins, forgotten temples, pockets of unclaimed territory where PEACE doesn’t bother stepping foot.

That’s where I find her.

An abandoned garden swallowed by ivy and stone, half a greenhouse, half a myth. The wrought-iron gate creaks open like it’s been waiting for me. The air here feels different—thick with old enchantments and blooming shadow. Even the wind shivers when it moves.

And then I see her standing barefoot in the grass, arms loose at her sides, shadows trailing behind her like a second skin. Her obsidian hair falls in soft waves over her shoulders, wild and unbound, glowing faint in the fae light. The tattoos that curve over her arms and collarbone pulse faintly, alive in a way I’ve never seen before.

And her eyes—gods, those eyes—luminescent violet, focused and far away.

She doesn’t notice me right away.

I take a step forward—just one—and something snaps inside me.

Pain flares in my gut, sudden and blinding. My legs give out. I drop to one knee with a grunt, hand pressed to my ribs.

“Fuck—”

The sound pulls her back.

She whirls around, eyes locking on mine like I just split the world in half.

“Dante?” she says, breath catching. “What the hell are you?—?”

I don’t have the strength to answer. My body folds again, forehead hitting dirt and moss, sweat beading down my neck.

The poison, I realize.

Whatever that bastard stuck me with—it’s not done.

“Godsdammit,” I growl through clenched teeth.

Suddenly, she’s beside me. Kneeling. Fingers on my shoulders. Her presence wraps around me like velvet and smoke.

“You’re hurt,” she says, voice trembling. “You weren’t supposed to come after me.”

“Too bad,” I grit out.

“Stubborn idiot,” she mutters. “You’re making it worse.”

She moves fast—pressing her palm to my side, right over the wound. I flinch, but her touch is cool . Calming. It spreads through me like winter wind through wildfire, silencing the pain, not with numbness—but with light .

A soft glow spills from her hand. And I realize—this isn’t shadow. This is something else. Something new.

She’s healing me. Not like a fae would. Like something more.

Her eyes widen as the glow intensifies, threads of soft gold dancing between her fingers and my skin. Her runes shift, realign, shimmering faintly like they’re unsure of what they’re doing but following instinct anyway.

She gasps. “I didn’t know I could…”

My breath hitches. The pain’s still there, but fading fast. And the warmth?—

It’s her.

She’s pouring something into me that’s more than magic. What feels like hope.

“Liora,” I whisper.

Her name tastes like salvation on my tongue.

Her hands shake, but she doesn’t pull away. “I was never taught this. They said I couldn’t—Thorne said I was only good for breaking things.”

“You’re not.”

She looks at me, startled.

“You’re good for more than destruction,” I say, voice low. “You saved me. Again. ”

A soft laugh escapes her lips, but her eyes are wet. “Yeah, but you were also hurt because of me.”

“My choice and I’d do it again.”

Her small smile is there and her eyes look warm instead of guarded for once. I want to kiss her. But not like before—not just because of the heat or the magic or the bond crawling through our veins. I want to kiss her because she chose this. Chose me. Again. I can feel her decision. ANd even though she’s scared. Even though it might cost her everything.

Her glow fades as the wound seals completely. She leans back slightly, still close, her chest rising and falling fast.

“I didn’t think I could do it,” she says quietly. “Not until you.”

I don’t know what to say to that. So I don’t.

I reach up, brush a thumb across her cheek. She leans into it like she didn’t mean to—but can’t stop herself.

“You scared the shit out of me,” she mutters.

“Good.”

She smiles. Just a little. It’s the first real one I’ve seen.

“I came back to protect you ,” I say, softer now. “And I went and got myself cursed instead.”

She huffs. “Dumbass.”

I grin, just a little. “You love it.”

And then I do what I’ve wanted to do since the second I found her again.

I kiss her.

Slow. Sure. No desperation this time. Just us . Fire and shadow. Light and wolf. Two broken things finding something steady in the middle of all this chaos.

She melts into me, one hand on my chest, the other tangled in my hair. And for a moment, the world goes quiet.

No Seraphiel. No hunters. No Veil. Just her lips on mine and the taste of something holy blooming behind my ribs.

When we finally pull apart, she rests her forehead against mine. “We’re not safe here,” she whispers. “They’ll come for you again. For both of us.”

“Let them,” I say, voice rough. “I’ve got you now.”

She closes her eyes, but her fingers curl around mine.

“We can’t stay here, Dante. It’s too exposed and you need to rest.”

“Fine,” I reply gruffly knowing she’s right. “Let’s go back to the loft. I have protection spells, wards and weapons.”

She helps me stand and nods. “It’s a start, but it won’t be enough.”