Page 18

“Life can seriously suck. Here we are, just running from some cranky draheim, minding our own business and then, BAM. The past rears its ugly head and smacks you across the face. And then laughs for good measure.” ~ Myanin

M yanin sat just inside the mouth of the cave, her dark eyes staring into the flickering flames of the fire.

The dancing light painted the stone walls with shadows, making the space feel both intimate and suffocating.

She hated closed-in spaces. Ever since her punishment before she was banished, anything that made her feel trapped was a trigger for her.

But she wasn’t about to admit that to anyone.

The last thing she needed was people thinking they’d found a crack in Myanin's armor. She swallowed hard as the events of the day and all that had happened seem to catch up with her. She hadn’t allowed herself to dwell on all the questions that had immediately assaulted her mind when they’d appeared in the draheim realm, specifically: where was Gerick and was he okay?

He was a damn good warrior. She had to trust that wherever he was, he was completely capable of taking care of himself, and he’d be totally insulted if she thought otherwise for even a second.

So she set her worry for him aside and thought of someone else.

When they’d heard Peri’s voice and then Torion’s, Myanin had been both relieved and slightly devastated.

Tenia wasn’t with her son. She didn’t know where the fae female, who’d become like a sister to her, was, and despite Torion’s drawing Peri had shown her, she didn’t know if Tenia was actually okay.

Myanin felt helpless, and she loathed feeling helpless.

She took in a deep breath and then blew it out as she attempted to shake the uneasy feeling that seemed to want to cling to her like tar.

Her fingers toyed with the hilt of the blade strapped to her thigh, the repetitive motion grounding her as her mind wandered.

This unease had been gnawing at her since the moment Celise had flashed them into this hellhole.

It wasn’t just the draheim—though they were bad enough, other than Serapha who seemed to not want to eat them.

It was something more. Something Myanin couldn’t see, couldn’t name, but could feel like a shadow just out of reach.

It was as though she’d been running from something far more dangerous than the draheim, and the thought made her stomach twist.

Her gaze flicked to the others in the cave.

Dillon was leaning against the far wall, his arms crossed and his eyes closed, though she knew he wasn’t asleep.

No alpha would be asleep while vulnerable children, especially his grandson, were in a dangerous situation.

Gavril was off to the side, helping Torion settle the kids for the night.

The boy looked exhausted, his usual energy dimmed by the weight of everything they’d been through.

Peri was speaking quietly to Lucian, both of their eyes roaming over the cave as if taking count of everyone present.

And then there was Myanin, sitting alone with her thoughts—thoughts that were starting to feel like an enemy of their own.

“You’re brooding.” Jezebel’s voice broke through the silence, soft but pointed.

Myanin didn’t look up. “I don’t brood.”

Jezebel snorted, moving to sit across the fire from her. “You’re practically radiating brood energy right now. It’s suffocating.”

“Then maybe you should give me some space,” Myanin shot back.

Jezebel wasn’t her enemy. Not anymore. But that didn’t mean Myanin wanted to be besties.

In fact, she’d rather give up cotton candy than be trapped in a realm, with no real foreseeable exit plan, with her former crush’s mate.

She paused and considered that. Okay, maybe not cotton candy, she mentally countered. But something else she really liked.

She felt Jezebel studying her, and Myanin looked at the other female.

The white witch’s sharp, blue eyes were unreadable.

“Not that I’m trying to bond with you or anything.

But, as I told Peri a few minutes ago when she attempted to rile me up over the fact that you and I are in a forced proximity together, life’s too short to worry about old crap.

So sharing is caring and all that. You’ve been tense ever since we got here. What’s going on?”

Myanin’s jaw tightened as she debated whether or not to answer.

She hated showing vulnerability, especially to someone like Jezebel.

Regardless of what the white witch said, their past would never be erased or forgotten.

It was too much, too painful, even if Myanin’s feelings had changed for the djinn male that had chosen Jezebel over her.

The residual pain would always be there.

A broken heart might mend, but it would forever be scarred by the trauma from those feelings.

But the witch wasn’t going to let it go, and Myanin knew it.

“I feel like we’re being followed,” she admitted finally, her voice low. She twirled the blade in her hand, the motion almost absentminded. “Not just by the draheim. Something else. Something … familiar. Something or someone powerful.”

Jezebel frowned, leaning forward slightly. “Familiar how?”

“I don’t know.” Myanin was frustrated. “It’s just a feeling. Like a shadow on the edge of my mind. I can’t shake it.”

Jezebel was quiet for a moment, her gaze thoughtful. “You think it’s someone you know?”

Myanin’s grip tightened on the hilt of her blade, the action almost painful. Frustrated, she gritted her teeth. “I don’t know.”

But she did know. Deep down, she knew exactly who it was—or at least she suspected .

And that thought was more terrifying than any draheim chasing her through the forest. She hadn’t seen him in centuries, not since before—well everything.

Before Thad, before Jezebel, before her exile from the djinn realm, but the memory of him was as sharp as ever.

The way his dark eyes had burned with intensity, the way his power had crackled in the air around him, the way he’d made her feel seen in a way no one else ever had. And the way he’d left her.

Jezebel’s voice was softer when she spoke again. “You’re scared.”

Myanin’s head snapped up, her eyes narrowing. “I’m not scared.” Tenia would have called her out on her B.S. She wouldn’t have let that lie stand for a second.

“You’re scared,” Jezebel repeated, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Which is weird, because I didn’t think anything scared you.”

“Nothing does scare me.” Even as the words left Myanin’s mouth she knew she was lying to herself.

“That’s not true. Maybe it was, once upon a time.

But that was when I had nothing to lose.

Now…” She stared at the dancing flames. She pulled the blade from its sheath and began spinning it mindlessly in her hand.

Jezebel shifted and her shoulder bumped Myanin’s. “Well, that’s understandable. If you want to talk about it?—”

“I don’t.” If it had been Lilly or Tenia, or hell, anyone other than Jezebel—or Thad for that matter—Myanin would’ve talked. Suck a duck. How had she gotten stuck in a realm with her out of all the people she could have been trapped with? The Fates, or the Great Luna, seriously hated Myanin.

Before Jezebel could respond, Torion appeared at the edge of the firelight, a piece of paper clutched in his hand. His expression was hesitant, almost nervous, as he approached Myanin.

“I, uh, I drew this.” He held the paper out to her. “I think… I think it’s important.”

Myanin raised an eyebrow but took the drawing, her curiosity outweighing her annoyance with herself.

Her breath caught as she stared at the image.

It was a man, his features sharp and familiar, his dark eyes burning with an intensity that made her chest tighten.

He was surrounded by shadows, his figure both imposing and hauntingly beautiful.

And in the shadow of his figure, Torion had drawn Myanin.

The likeness was remarkable. Torion’s gift was truly amazing.

Her eyes shifted from her own face back to the male’s.

She knew him. Of course, she knew him. How could she not?

He was the one who had haunted her dreams before Thadrick had entered the picture.

The one who had made her feel alive and terrified all at once.

The one she had tried so hard to forget.

And had done so for a time. Until now. Her gut twisted as something settled into place.

She was right. Someone was following them.

Maybe he wasn’t in the draheim realm, but he was seeking her.

Perhaps, wherever he’d been, he’d heard of what she’d done and decided to find out for himself if it was true.

Or maybe he thought her punishment wasn’t just, and he wanted to be the one to exact judgment on her.

“Who is he?” Torion asked cautiously.

Myanin swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around the paper. “No one,” she whispered.

Jezebel leaned forward, her eyes narrowing as she studied Myanin’s face. “You’re lying.”

“Who are you? The damn Feelings Police? I’m scared.

I’m lying. What else would you like to project onto me?

” Myanin snapped, her voice cracking. “The past is the past, right, Jezebel? So if you must know, he’s my past. And like you, I don’t dwell on old crap.

” She stood abruptly, the drawing crumpled in her fist as she turned away from the fire.

Her heart pounded, and her mind raced with memories she’d buried long ago.

The shadows at the edge of the cave seemed to press closer, and for the first time in a very long time, Myanin felt truly, utterly vulnerable.