Page 39 of Veiled By Smoke (The Nature Hunters Academy #5)
He pressed his fists to the earth, desperate to ground himself, to remember who he was.
For a long moment he just breathed–each inhale a struggle, each exhale a ragged surrender.
He was so tired. So damn tired of being pulled in a thousand directions, of being bound to a dark king unworthy of anyone’s loyalty, of being separated from his mate, of being unable to share the burden with his brothers. He was simply exhausted.
He was still shaking when a movement caught his eye, a flicker of green and gold.
From the mossy roots at the edge of the trees, a tiny figure emerged.
She was no bigger than his hand, with hair like woven grass and eyes like dew.
A wood nymph. She floated up on a breath of wind, her voice like a bell.
“You fight bravely, young king,” she said, her tone gentle but strong. “You are not alone. We are all fighting, even if you cannot see us. The light is with you, and the earth remembers your name. Do not lose hope.”
She brushed his cheek with a touch lighter than a breeze, and Ra felt a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with fire. For a moment, the pain eased, replaced by a fragile sense of belonging.
“Thank you,” he whispered, voice breaking.
The nymph smiled, then vanished into the night.
Ra stared at the empty place where she’d been, and suddenly the ache for Shelly was too much to bear.
His body and soul cried out for her, for her warmth, her strength, her unwavering grace she offered and he didn’t deserve.
He needed her like air. Without thinking, he opened a portal, silver and gold fire twisting in the air, and stepped through.
He ended up in the familiar cave, the air cool, scented with earth and dragon magic. Shelly was propped up in bed, a book open and upside down on her lap, her eyes closed, her skin too pale. The sight of her, so small, so weary, hit him like a punch to the chest.
Guilt and longing warred inside him. What have I done? I’ve left her alone when she needed me most. I’ve failed her. Again. The fire inside him was suddenly a different kind of burn, a desperate need to make it right.
He crossed to her, sitting on the edge of the bed and brushing her hair from her face, so thirsty for even the smallest touch. “Hey,” he whispered, voice raw.
Her eyes fluttered open, and tears shimmered there. Through the bond, he felt her pain, her exhaustion, her desperate, silent plea for him to make it better. Her soul reached for his, hungry and aching.
“Don’t ask me about today, it’s too much to explain,” she murmured, voice small and broken. “Just hold me, Ra. Please.”
He gathered her into his arms, lifting her smaller form, cradling her to his chest. She melted against him, her face buried in his chest, her arms wrapped around his neck, trembling with relief and need. He held her as if she might break, as if letting go would mean losing himself all over again.
He pressed his lips to her hair, his breath shaky.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice choked.
“I’m so sorry I left you alone. I’m sorry I’m not here with you, taking care of you.
I’m supposed to take care of you.” The need to care for her was so strong that he knew it was going to take all of his willpower to leave again.
“I want to be sorry for considering Viscious an option when you were in hell, but I would do anything to get you back, and I didn’t feel like I had any other choice. ”
Her fingers curled into his shirt, desperate. “I don’t blame you, Ra. I don’t hold anything against you. I know you’d rather be here with me than anywhere else. I can feel it. Just please, don’t let go. Don’t ever let go.”
“Never. As long as it is in my power, you will always be mine,” he promised, every word a vow. It was a promise he could easily keep. “You’re my home, Mery. My only peace.”
For the first time in days, the storm inside him eased.
The ache, the guilt, the hunger, they all quieted with her in his arms. He felt her breathing slow, her body relax, her soul wrap around his like a blanket.
For a precious, fleeting moment, there was nothing but the two of them–no promises, no kings, no darkness. Just love. Just belonging.
He held her until she was deep in sleep, and only then did he let himself rest, his own exhaustion finally giving way to a fragile, healing sleep.
A cross Salem, in the darkened window of Blackhorn, Aurora stood watching the garden.
She’d seen Ra burning with fire that somehow didn’t even scorch the grass, then speaking with a creature she couldn’t name, then stepping through a shimmering portal and vanishing into nothing.
She should be freaking out. A normal reaction would be fear.
It was unknown, and shouldn’t be possible, and holy crap the dude could live with fire all over his body.
Rather than fear, she felt only longing.
When the swirling circle appeared in front of him, there had been a pull, deep and aching, as if the world beyond that portal was calling her.
It had been so strong that she considered running downstairs and out the door in an attempt to join Ra.
But he’d been too quick–there one second and gone the next.
She pressed her palm to the glass, the lightning flashing, lighting up the darkness every few minutes, and wondered if maybe, just maybe, Ra, Penny and Coredila were right. Perhaps she was meant for more than this broken, storm-soaked world.
And somewhere in the night, as she crawled back into bed, the thread of her soul trembled, waiting for someone to find it and make her whole.