Page 54 of To Free a Soul (Duskwalker Beginnings #2)

Taken aback by her request, he regarded his mate differently. He didn’t know why. Perhaps it was because he never thought she’d cry for him, over him, or make it sound as though she... missed him.

“There is little of me to see,” he admitted.

“I don’t care.” She grabbed the long handle of the simmering pot and pulled it away from the heat.

She waved at the internal stove. “The coals in there are so low for drying those herbs that it’ll safely go out.

It’s just medicine and scent-cloaking ingredients for the nearby town.

Everything else I want from here... I can come back for later. ”

Seeing as she was set on this, and arguing with Lindiwe could often prove futile when she had her heart set on something, Weldir submitted. He pulled her from her world and into his.

The first thing she did when she came into view was search for him... even when he was right in front of her. She squinted in the darkness, only for her eyes to widen when she caught his light mist in her periphery.

Her cloak swayed around her, slowly continuing to move in the direction she’d been turning before halting. “Oh, Weldir. Look at you.”

He tipped his gaze down, knowing what she saw was nothing but a handful of small streaks and the cloud of his mist. Not like before, where a good portion of him had become visible, tangible, touchable.

“As I mentioned, there is little–” He lifted his gaze just as her cloak finished opening on her left side, and his words cut off. “Lindiwe... your arm. ”

He transported to her side and brought what little he had to his fingertips to reach out to her. She had yet to turn into a Phantom, so there was no point in him trying to touch her, but it wouldn’t have mattered. At some point since his disappearance, Lindiwe had lost the limb.

Halfway down her biceps was a stump, the keloid scarring taut.

Guilt trembled through his mist again, but it was utterly overshadowed by the intense rage that vibrated all through his realm. The growl he produced rippled his darkness, his void, and he perceived it all the way to his gut – in Tenebris.

“Turn Phantom now ,” he demanded.

She immediately did, and he used his fingertips to touch her and lift her arm. Then he linked her soul to her body and pushed mana into it to regrow the limb for her.

Without his intervention, Lindiwe did not heal. She did not change either. Unless she was within his realm, their bond kept her the same; she didn’t age, and her hair didn’t lengthen if she cut it. His nearness, while she was a Phantom, helped to reset her physically.

“How did this happen?” He lifted his gaze to glare directly into hers, his ire not at her, but for her. “You are usually so careful.”

The fact that he’d been gone so long and she’d survived every one of those years was testament to that.

She grabbed her newly healed arm and pulled it away from him. “I had an altercation with Jabez.”

Weldir snapped out a snarl through chomping fangs, and his mist visibly pulsated, to the point that her eyes widened in surprise.

If I could, I’d take that male’s life force and snuff it out. Frustratingly, he couldn’t do that! Leyfr had made him promise many things, and one of them was to not destroy the life of a living soul by his own mana.

Technically what he’d done with Lindiwe was a bend of that rule. He hadn’t killed her, not fully, as she was still alive – despite her technically being dead.

And no one had told him he couldn’t claim a mate or have offspring who could potentially do what he’d sworn not to.

Many times over, he wished to disregard all those things and do what he wanted. Eradicate the Demons from within, destroy anything and everything that annoyed him.

But he didn’t want to be the evil creature they feared him to be. Even just one soul would be a violation, and as if Leyfr knew Jabez in particular would instigate his ire, he’d made sure Weldir swore not to interfere with that male.

The forest god’s morality was entirely detrimental to Weldir’s more destructive desires. Sometimes adhering to his rules was dispiriting.

“No one is angrier than me,” Lindiwe pointed out, her lips pursing as if she could sense the maelstrom of fury within him. “If it makes you feel any better, I cornered him when he was above the surface and placed a ward over him.”

That piqued his interest, knowing his grudge-holding, strong female could be ruthless when given the chance. “Does that mean he’s gone?”

That’d make him rather ecstatic.

She rolled her pretty eyes with a pout. “I wish. I waited until the sun rose and then released it. I thought the sun would instantly burn him like other Demons, but it only wounded him while he escaped into the shade.”

Her eyes flicked all around without his face being visible. She didn’t know where to look, how to find him, and there was too little of him to help in that regard.

“So much has happened since you’ve been gone.” Then her eyes grew incredibly soft, their whites pinkened, and new tears formed. “I really want to hug you right now.”

Once more, Weldir was stunned by her crying. He also wasn’t quite sure how to respond to it, as this was new territory for him regarding her. His mate wanting to hug him, cry for him, be all soft and cute?

“I... thought you would be angry with me,” he admitted, hoping she’d help him understand.

She gave a tearful laugh. “Oh I am. But I’m just so thankful you’re okay, and that you’re back. When you didn’t come back to witness Fennec gaining their horns and skull like you promised, I knew it wasn’t your fault.”

When she cupped both her hands to her chest, he braved reaching out. “I cannot give you what you seek right now, but I can do this.”

Collecting every piece of his self into his right hand, all his fingers solidified to their base knuckles.

He cupped the side of her tear-stained cheek and brushed it with his thumb to wipe some of the moisture away.

His mist pulled in tight when she... leaned into his meagre touch trustingly, affectionately, and something about it changed something within Weldir.

I like this side of her. He came a little closer, wishing there was more of him to share with her, and that he could bring her into an embrace he couldn’t feel but longed for all the same. I like this... tenderness.

“Would you care to stay awhile and tell me all that I’ve missed?” he asked, refusing to pull his hand away from her cheek. He drifted it down the crease of her nose and even rubbed over her full lips.

“Yes. Please, yes. I want to stay here.”

His mist swirled around him in mini whirlpools, and that had never happened before.

We can lay my mist upon Earth later. He would tell her how he needed her help after he spent time with his female. His mate, who was being exceptionally soft with him, had no idea how captivating he found it.

For once, he didn’t care about strengthening his power, his reach, or even his duty. He didn’t want to shadow this with impatience or expectations.

He just wanted to spend time with her in his realm, surrounded by his darkness, her voice and presence filling every inch of it the way he’d long ago begun to want it to.

It was also the first time he’d wished there was more of him, simply so he could seat her in his lap while they spoke.

She had years to share with him, and he would be a grateful listener.

She also likes watching me fix her cloak.

And considering its poor and sorry state, and his low mana, it should take him some time. More for him to spend with her. For once, he didn’t think he needed to use that as an excuse.

She wanted to be here as much as he wanted her to stay.