Page 5

5

~ D evin ~

I woke to warmth.

Not the false warmth of spellfire or the suffocating heat of a fever dream—but the real kind. The kind that crept in quietly, curling around my skin and seeping into my bones. The kind I hadn’t felt in… decades.

Maybe longer.

I blinked, the morning light slicing through the thin veil of sleep like a blade through silk. The forest stirred around us, hushed and golden. Birdsong. The crackle of a fire. The distant hush of water over stones.

And the smell of food .

I sat up too fast, dizziness sweeping through me like a wave. My entire body ached, hollow and slow, and I realized with grim clarity just how much power I’d used the night before.

More than I’d meant to. More than I could afford.

I’d burned deep, past the safe lines. Past the edges, where most Death Mages dare not tread. I must have passed out cold. Defenseless.

And yet…

She hadn’t left me.

Cleo knelt near the fire, her back to me, tending a flat stone where eggs sizzled beside sliced riverroot and fragrant green herbs. Her hair was damp, dark and curling slightly where it touched her shoulders. She’d bathed. Cleaned the grime of the forest and her captivity from her skin. She looked… fresh. Radiant.

Alive.

More beautiful than she had any right to be.

She turned slightly, just enough to see I was awake. “Finally,” she said, tone wry. “I thought maybe you were dead.” She poked at the fire, shaking her head. “You weren’t breathing. But you were glowing, so I decided to wait to burn your body.”

“I appreciate your restraint.” A chuckle bubbled through me. Amusement. Another emotion I hadn’t felt in so long I’d nearly forgotten the sensation. When she ignored me, I forced myself to sit straighter. “You stayed.”

“I have questions.” She poked at the eggs. “Also, I have no gear, no coin, no map. Not a lot of options.”

“You could’ve run.”

“I thought about it,” she admitted. “But I figured the odds were good Jarrik might come back to finish what he started. Didn’t seem right to leave you helpless if that happened.”

I stared at her. Not because she was wrong. But because no one —not in over two hundred years—had given a damn whether I lived or died. Not really. I was just one more Death Mage whose soul was tied to the void. But there were dozens of us. If I died, another would take my place. The wheel of the world would continue to turn, with or without me in it.

For some unknown reason, she had protected me. Cared for me. Not out of fear. Not because of a soul contract or alliance. Did she feel this pull between us, as I did? Was her body painfully aware of my every breath, the scent of my skin, the way I moved? Was she on fire for me as I was for her? A few hours ago, I’d been in the healing sleep of my kind, my magic taking over, forcing me to lose consciousness, to remain still, to mend physically and spiritually. In that state, I could not protect myself. I could not protect her.

“Staying with me was reckless,” I said, voice lower than I meant. “Lighting a fire. You could have been attacked. There are worse things in these woods than Jarrick.”

“Maybe,” she said, glancing back at me. “But staying felt like the right thing. I couldn’t leave you like that.”

I’d lost consciousness. Burned out and collapsed from my battle with Jarrick. He was a pompous ass, but he was also powerful. Something twisted in my chest. A foreign sensation. Soft. Dangerous.

I watched her quietly as she plated the food on a large, curled leaf and set it beside me. She sat across the fire, legs folded neatly beneath her, keeping her distance.

Smart. Especially if she knew the hunger that raged in me to touch her. Kiss her. Claim her. Shove my cock deep and make her scream my name. She was mine. I adjusted the hard, uncomfortable length in my breeches and picked up the food, studied it for a moment. “You foraged for this?”

She shrugged. “There were nests by the water. The eggs were still warm. The root’s sweet when you cook it right.”

“I didn’t know you could recognize the edible plants. Strange for someone raised in the city.”

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “People always underestimate me. You learn things when you’re raised in a place where you go to bed hungry more often than not.”

The thought of her suffering at the orphanage made me want to pull my dagger and go back to the capital, slit the throats of anyone who’d ever hurt her. Instead, I took a bite. My body all but groaned in response. I’d forgotten the taste of real food. Earthy. Slightly sweet. Savory from the herbs she’d crushed over it.

“I’m surprised you didn’t put poison in it,” I murmured.

“I considered it.”

That made me smile. Just a little.

Her gaze lifted. And for a moment, we just looked at each other.

Something passed between us. Wordless. Old. Familiar in a way that made no sense.

“You bathed,” I said finally, my voice rougher than I wanted as my gaze lingered on the thin wet fabric that clung to the curve of her breasts. Her hair was still wet, a random drop of water traveled the length of her cheek, down her neck, to disappear in the feminine clothing I longed to peel from her body.

She dropped her gaze, her attention darting to my lips before sliding away. “There was a pool near the stream. The water is cold, if you’re interested.”

I took a deep breathe, drew her scent into my body. “You smell like wild mint and moonlight.”

“Now you sound like a werewolf.” Her brows rose. “Are you trying to be poetic?”

“I simply speak the truth.” I had no idea how the shifter clans survived the pull of their mates. I was a mage, not part beast, and yet her scent lingered in the air between us, a constant tease to my sex starved body. I hadn’t touched a female in decades. Had no interest. No desire.

Until her.

Silence stretched like thin ice between us. I watched her throat work as she swallowed. Her tongue flashed in invitation as she hastily licked her lips. I bit back a groan but could not stop myself from leaning forward. Closer.

“Why are you here? Why did you follow me?”

“You know why.” I held her gaze and hid nothing of my desire. She was young. Innocent. If she knew what I wanted to do to her, she’d run, screaming, from our small camp. Instead, she cleared her throat and leaned back, away from me.

“Tell me everything you know about the Starborn.”

It wasn’t a question. More like a challenge. Like she dared me to confirm something she didn’t want to believe. “What did Jarrik tell you?”

“Not much. He claimed I am of the bloodline.”

Devin’s scowl made me squirm. “Everyone believes they’re just a myth. A bedtime story. Chosen people of the goddess of light. Gifted with magic in their veins. Stars in their bones. Magic connected not to one of our moons, but to the light of our stars. Our suns.”

Cleo was shaking her head. “They can’t be real. Every story I’ve ever heard about them made them sound too good to be true.” She picked up a small pebble and tossed it into the fire, a frown on her face. “Which I definitely am not. There is nothing special about me.”

“I believed the old bloodlines were gone,” I said. “Until I saw you.”

She went still. “When?”

“You know. In the capital.” I set my food down and moved forward to kneel in front of her, my voice lower now, the weight of memory heavy behind my words as our eyes met and held. She was close enough to kiss. All I had to do was shift my weight and lean in. “Tell me what you felt.”

She shook her head. “No. I felt nothing.”

“Liar.” I reached out, moving slowly, and took her hand in my own. “There hasn’t been a new Starborn recognized on Lunaterra for many years,” I continued. “And the last time one was mated to a Death Mage was centuries ago.”

“Why does that matter?” She stared at our joined hands, and I knew she felt what I did. Heat. Connection. Purpose. We were meant to be together, her magic and mine. Her soul and mine. I was darkness and she was light.

“Because the Veil is thinning. There are cracks in the Rift. The runes are fading.”

She gasped; her horrified gaze lifted to mine. “That’s not possible. The Death Mages, the Necromancers, even the vampires give their blood to fuel the runes. It’s known all through the kingdoms.”

“There are rifts forming—small ones, for now, but growing. Dark magic leaks into our world. Shadows cross. Wraithborn pass through unchecked. The Tower won’t be able to hold the Rift much longer without reinforcement. Without you.”

“Why?” she asked softly.

“Because the old bloodlines kept the Veil intact. Starborn magic isn’t like ours. It’s not death. It’s balance. Light.”

She frowned. “But if that’s true… why did all the Starborn disappear?”

“They were hunted.”

Her lips parted slightly. “Hunted?” She tried to pull her hand free, but I tightened my grip around trembling fingers.

“There was a war,” I said. “Long ago. Before your time. A cult—led by a woman who serves the darkness beyond the Veil—learned the Starborn were key to keeping the breach sealed. So, she sent assassins. For generations, they hunted the bloodline, wiped your kind from the realms.”

“That’s horrible.”

“Yes. And effective.”

I let the fire crackle for a moment.

“They were nearly all gone when I was born. Only a handful remained, hidden in the remote realms. But none strong enough to bond. None willing.”

“And you think I’m… one of them.”

“I know you are.”

“You can’t. It’s a story. A myth. ”

“You burned Jarrik. You healed the snapped bones in your wrist.”

She stilled. “I thought you healed me.”

“Healing is not one of my gifts. I am not the wild Fae. I deal with death and shadows, not healing.” I took the opportunity to cradle her delicate wrist in my much larger hand. She was so small. Delicate. If I hadn’t felt it myself, I would not have believed one who appeared to be so fragile held so much power.

“I’m not…I don’t have magic.”

“That wasn’t a fluke,” I said. “It wasn’t rage. It was your power, protecting you. The same way it burned through his sleeping spell. Are you trying to deny it?”

“I don’t want it,” she whispered. “I don’t want any of this. I didn’t ask to be powerful or rare or important. I just wanted to get out of the orphanage, out of the city.” Her voice cracked. “Just wanted to be free.”

“I will teach you to use your magic. You’ll be powerful, Cleo. Rich. You’ll never go to bed hungry again, I swear it.”

She was shaking her head in denial. “I didn’t ask to belong to some… terrifying Death Mage who thinks he’s entitled to my soul.”

I said nothing. Her soul, her heart, her body. All mine. I would not deny it.

Her eyes lifted, defiant even through the shimmer of unshed tears. “I would rather belong to a bloodthirsty vampire. A flea-infested werewolf. Even a Void-damned swamp Orc. Anything but one of you.”

My jaw clenched.

That stung. More than I wanted to admit.

The shadows inside me stirred. Hungry. Cold. But I held them back.

I stood slowly and pulled her to her feet before me. “Neither of us has a choice.”

Her brows knit. “I don’t believe that.”

“You will.” I kissed her. Not gentle. Not soft. But real. The moment our lips met, the world ignited.

I slid my hands into her hair. Her breath caught.

Magic burst between us, wild and uncontrollable—like fire leaping onto dry tinder, searing hot and white-gold at the edges.

She gasped, but didn’t pull away. Her body pressed into mine, and I felt every curve and hollow. Her fear. Her desire. Rebellion. Denial. Underneath it all— recognition.

This wasn’t a spell. This wasn’t a curse. It was fate.

Her hands curled in my cloak. My fingers tightened in her hair. I wanted to devour her. Bury myself in her warmth and light. Sear her soul into mine so deeply nothing—not even the Veil—could tear us apart.

But she pulled back. Breathing hard. Eyes wide. Pulse fluttering at the base of her neck.

“I don’t want this,” she whispered. “I don’t want to marry a Death Mage.”

“I know. But I can’t let you go.” I traced her bottom lip with my thumb and fought for control. “If I did, Jarrick, or another, would find you and try to claim you. Once word of your existence surfaces, assassins will rise like shadows to hunt you. I will protect you. You need me as much as I need you.”

She shoved me, hard enough to put space between us. But she didn’t run. She didn’t run.

And for the first time in centuries, I let myself hope .