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Page 22 of Shattered Galaxies (Tears of the Siren #6)

Zander

“I appreciate you giving us somewhere to stay for the night.” Draven’s voice carried polite appreciation as he and Azrael stepped outside of the guest cottage we’d been gifted for the night.

Although, calling it a cottage—considering the several thousand square feet spanning two floors—felt inadequate.

I couldn’t hear the fallen angel’s response, instead focused on the way the wind swept through the bedroom and cast moonlight across the bed.

The bed where Lorcan was sprawled out, not having woken from her deep, restful slumber.

It was a silent night, so quiet that I could hear her breathing from where I sat in an armchair near the door.

Silent, but not peaceful.

My jaw tightened as I considered everything that had happened in the past few hours.

My attention should have been on finding her stalker—going through maps and star traveling, trying to grasp an understanding on how he continued to evade us—but the storm inside of me, raging with questions and fear, was stronger than anything else battling for my focus.

Lorcan planned to sacrifice her siren, removing half of her soul, for the survival of our universe.

Lorcan had sacrificed her siren. The creature may have still resided within her, but it was a weapon now, a finely tuned composition poised for war.

I didn’t know how to even begin to process her choice.

I wasn’t alone in that, either. Despite the assurances from Beryl and the fact that our group bond hadn’t disappeared, each man within this family felt uneasy with the concept of Lorcan giving up anything, let alone part of her soul.

The short, tense conversation that had carried our group back through a portal I’d opened from the runes to the Incendie kingdom made that clear.

Some members were angry, like Desmond, possessive over anything having to do with her immortal essence.

Others were filled with quiet concern, like Rhett.

Until Lorcan woke, no one would be at ease—questions and demands hanging in the air like heavy smoke.

My feelings on the subject were more complicated than most.

Rationally, I knew that her siren was a separate part of her, a cosmic entity that existed for the purpose of others.

Rationally, I knew that Lorcan would still be herself without her siren.

She would still be both a star elf and water elf, able to draw on both sources of power.

She would be able to star walk; she would be able to shift into the beautiful aquatic creature she found peace with.

Rationally, I knew that Lorcan would no longer hear the cries of our universe, no longer suffer under the assault of others’ desires, and that that was fantastic .

And the fact that she’d chosen that for herself, that she’d chosen to give up both the good and the bad for the sake of others—that power to choose was almost more than any of us could hope for in life.

So why didn’t I feel at peace with the decision?

I knew why, in part. A twinge of jealousy screamed that Lorcan would be free. Free from the chains that held us down. I envied that. I wanted to be free to stand at her side with the same sense of buoyancy. But that wasn’t in the cards for me, which was something I needed to accept.

The Cosmos god would never allow it. After all, he’d made it abundantly clear how ‘special’ I was to him. Could’ve fooled me .

There was something larger though, something that was selfish and darkly tainted.

Without the shared experiences of Lorcan and I both being sirens, what would we have in common?

If she no longer needed help with this war, if she no longer needed training, or if we could no longer understand each other’s pain…

did she need me? It was a question I didn’t have the answer to.

Maybe that wouldn’t matter. Maybe the strength of the relationship we’d already developed would supersede that. We would see when she woke.

The only point of light I could see was that she wouldn’t have to watch her powers be passed on. There was a reason I’d spent all these centuries alone. I never wanted to risk starting a family, putting myself in a situation where I’d pass on this curse—these wretched abilities—disguised as magic.

That…and I think I’d been waiting for Lorcan, whether I realized it or not.

Now, though, I could see it. I could see the family we could create, even with the others. I could even imagine having children with Lorcan. My eyes closed as I saw flashes—maybe from a different timeline, a different life—of an infant, with the same eyes as his mother.

The idea of Lorcan having my child, of showing the world that I was a suitable mate…

it baffled me. It also seduced me, a low groan nearly leaving my throat as I shook myself.

I was in enough danger when it came to my need for Lorcan; I didn’t need to intensify it with possessive thoughts like those.

Thoughts that whispered the need to mark her fully—to make her mine in every way.

Woof!

An excited bark broke through my thoughts as my gaze shot down to the puppy at my feet, a whine leaving its throat as I leaned back in my chair.

I grunted as he immediately jumped onto my lap and began to lick my face, unable to help the chuckle that escaped me.

I would give Lorcan this—she’d picked an adorable addition to the family.

“You’re going to be big and strong one day,” I said, remembering the last pet I owned. It had been a few years after I’d been released from Broken House. I’d been living on a farm, keeping low as I worked as a hand. Holly had been her name, a Great Pyrenees.

“My bad. I was taking him out for a walk.” Adriel appeared in the doorway, and Woody jumped off my lap with excitement. I nodded in understanding before looking toward Lorcan, who still hadn’t moved.

“Why don’t you grab some sleep,” Adriel suggested when I didn’t verbally respond. “When she wakes up, there will be a lot to talk about.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I agreed and pushed to standing, making my way toward the bed. When the door closed, leaving the two of us alone, I couldn’t help but consider the very stark reality that they trusted me. Trusted me to be alone with Lorcan. Trusted me to keep her safe.

I didn’t take that lightly.

Kicking off my shoes, I laid next to my starlight putting one hand behind my head and resting the other on top of hers. It was a light touch, but Lorcan rolled over and snuggled against me. Fast asleep yet seeking me. I swallowed down the emotion that drew from me and closed my eyes.

In that moment, I promised I wouldn’t move until she was ready to wake and face the new day.

I didn’t expect to star walk, but as soon as my eyes were closed I felt the tug.

It felt as if the universe was rearranging itself to ensure I was presented with whatever it wanted to show me.

I suppose it wasn’t a question of it doing so—I knew the universe was doing exactly that.

I wondered what level of power Lorcan would have in abilities like that after the war.

There was so much I’d wanted to show her, to explore together. As a star elf, I supposed that would still be possible, though.

When I hit a wall of shadows, everything came to a stop, pain radiating through my temple in warning.

Slowing down, I carefully stepped through the wall, my ears ringing as I tried to ground myself in the moment.

The universe was blurry outside of the pinpoint of focus I had on the shadow dome I was trying to break through.

A shadowy figure walked forward, appearing and disappearing in front of me, to the side, and then behind me.

Trying to get to me as much as I was trying to get to them.

I could hear the whisper of Lorcan’s name, and I could taste the desire that tainted the air.

The obsession. The need—all centered around her.

I froze as I caught a glimpse of pale skin, trying to get a better look at who this bastard was. I’d delved deep enough into her background, into everyone who had touched her life, that I knew I would recognize who was pacing throughout their house thinking about her. If I could only?—

I was absolutely fucking right.

The shadows disappeared and the picture of him turned crystal clear. His pale complexion, his dark eyes, the demonic magic that surrounded him. The room around him—around us —was decorated in pictures, mementos placed on an altar.

This wasn’t just obsession—it was ritualistic worship, a shrine of madness built around her.

My gaze froze on the figure to the left of the room.

A dead woman. Several dead women, each bearing a shadow of a resemblance to Lorcan.

Shit.

Before I could grasp at anything more—before I could strangle him with my star-covered hands—I was ripped away.

I grunted as I was thrown into a cosmic spiral, torn away and spit out in someplace new.

My brain pulsed with pain, but as a soft familiar scent invaded my senses, I realized this was a definite improvement and stopped trying to fight it.

Lorcan. Lorcan was summoning me, drawing me forward.

“Zander?” Everything slowed as Lorcan turned from where she faced the void of the galaxy, her star-like form flashing in a wave of blues and purples—her skin twinkling as if in greeting. Her hair was floating around her like a veil, and her eyes watched me with warmth and affection.

Her brow dipped. “What’s wrong?”

Was it obvious? I tried to shake my rage, tried to remove the furious need to tell her what I’d discovered. To demand we leave to slaughter him.

Now wasn’t the time. I had to pull myself back, exhibit control. Lorcan had just gone through something…extreme. She didn’t need to be thinking about her stalker—not yet. I needed to focus on providing her the comfort she needed.