Page 56 of To Free a Soul (Duskwalker Beginnings #2)

Lindiwe’s face pinched, her mouth tightening as her closed eyes clenched further, then she burrowed her cheek against her hands. Her soft, barely noticeable snores of sleep quietened and then ceased when his claw tip followed the line of her round ear and down the arch of her neck.

She stretched into it and softly rasped, “Weldir.”

The satisfaction in that singular word, coming out on a sweet expire, was strong enough to make his mist swirl like a tornado.

He brought his knees up so he could sit cross-legged next to her sleeping form and watch her twitch and her closed lids flicker back and forth from her human dreams. Her cloak completely shielded her while she was curled up in a ball, resting so similarly to how her soul did.

Unashamedly, his gaze perused the becoming features that made up his mate.

The line of her nose, her plump lips parted ever so slightly, her pointed chin, and her sharp jaw.

When another curl drifted across her arching brow, he pushed it back as well, and the end cut across her high cheekbone.

Her hair was currently being a nuisance as it fluttered all around her in his weightlessness, tickling her and disturbing her rest, but it was as glossy as ever.

She took great pride in maintaining it while within his realm.

He didn’t know if she was aware that he watched with rapt interest as she combed silkening oil through her curls to reduce any frizz.

The loose, coiling patterns never seemed to be the same, each one unique and charming, and highlighting that her hair wasn’t just brunette, but had these varying tones that only enriched her.

Weldir was unsure when he stopped seeing her as just a blob of base features, such as a human face, a woman’s body, brown skin, brunette hair, arms and legs.

When had each one of those facets deepened in his mind to where he saw the depths of them?

At what point did he notice that her hair wasn’t just a dark brown?

It was also chestnut, cinnamon, and dark copper, among an array of other colours he didn’t know how to define.

He did know it had started with her expressive eyes.

The pooling, rich depths of mahogany had begun to feel like they could consume his shadows if he looked long enough. It was only when he’d noticed the flecks of golden amber that more about her slowly came into focus.

Now he couldn’t imagine not noticing all the unique beauty that made up his mate. But he still didn’t know how he’d gotten to where he’d rather stare at her while she slept than do anything else.

She’s changed, he thought, taking in the calming, rhythmic pattern of her heartbeat and quiet breaths. I’m unsure as to why.

Somewhere in the last sixty-seven years, Lindiwe’s demeanour had shifted, and it had been noticeable from the very moment he’d woken up five years ago.

She was still his passionate female, all fire and vengeance, all cutting glares and lethal venom.

But... the smouldering flames quickly sputtered out with him.

She no longer held onto any anger towards him, and any annoyance was often overshadowed by an odd playfulness and a wry smirk. There were teasing words and jabs that often left him a little puzzled and unsure how to proceed.

When he first woke up and had been able to sense that a very long time had passed, he thought any tentative bond between them would be shattered. He’d broken promises, had essentially abandoned her when she could have needed him, and provided unanswered solitude and isolation.

Somewhere during their separation, things had not worsened, but bettered. How that was possible, he didn’t know.

Especially when there was unshed pain that lingered in her gaze, and internal wounds that she’d shared but not unburdened herself with. How an echo of loneliness came from her and often mimicked his in a spiralling parallel.

I like it. These changes, this softness and constant reach for him, left behind a tender sentiment to shiver through the cloud of his shadows. I’m growing fond of this side of her.

Their bond was strengthening alongside Weldir’s affection for her. And his deep, darkening obsession with her had begun.

If he wasn’t with her in this part of his realm, speaking with her through a viewing disc, fixing Tenebris, or consuming souls in a safe way that didn’t drag him under, Weldir was in his cave of memories.

Being there annoyed him as much as it transfixed him, living in the moments of her pleasure nostalgically, while furious that he was unable to add to them. Not in the way he – and apparently she – desired.

I’m growing stronger. Lifting his right arm, he collected all his solidness to gauge his power levels, and it encompassed his entire right hand to his right elbow. But this is not enough.

Not to resume their intimacy – especially as he constantly put off growing his mist now that she’d helped him lay it all across the world again.

Fixing Tenebris was taking time, effort, and mana he didn’t have to spare, and Nathair still lay asleep within it.

All the souls within slumbered, and it made his afterworld dreary and depressing – he now hated being there, when he once enjoyed watching it teeming with life.

Five years wasn’t enough to regain what he had built over the course of nearly two human centuries.

The only silver lining was that his well of mana stores, although empty, was deeper.

He had more souls within Tenebris, and each one offered him just a speck of power every day to feed him.

Those tiny fragments of power, as a collective, as a whole, were likely the only reason he’d survived Nathair’s carnage, and why he’d woken up when he had.

Lindiwe has been helping as well.

In between searching for souls for him, she’d come to rest here – freely and comfortably – before spending time with him.

They sat together and watched their offspring through viewing discs, as if she hadn’t spoken to him the entire time she’d wandered the world, noting anything and everything that could be of interest to him, just to share her voice as he offered his own.

Humoured when a curl caught on her long, dark lashes, he brushed that one back as well. Contentment from doing even this simple act vibrated through him.

Especially when she arched like a naughty little female who wanted to be petted, even in sleep.

If only I didn’t need to right everything once more first.

He would’ve given her exactly what she sought.