Page 73

EVE

The door clicked shut behind Orion, cutting off every thought I had in the process.

I turned toward the door, half a step forward before hesitation stopped me.

Did I really want to get involved? Would I not make things a million times worse?

I wore a groove into the floorboards, pacing back and forth. Restraint or action.

He’s not ready for this. I’m not ready for this.

I paused at the door, hand hovering near the handle. But I couldn’t bring myself to touch it.

I wasn’t just scared of what he’d say—I was scared he’d say nothing at al l.

What Orion was doing—whatever he was doing out there—it wasn’t fair to either of us. I’d barely woken up, barely had time to process what my return from certain death actually meant, and now what? He was trying to play matchmaker?

I couldn’t even begin to imagine what was going through Xander’s mind right now.

Orion looked half-way to feral when he left, and I had no idea what he was saying to him.

I should stop him. I should just go out there and put an end to all of this— tell Xander that Orion was just kidding and that we should focus on what was right in front of us.

But then I heard the scuffling. Muffled voices rising. A sharp thud. A grunt.

“Grow up, Xander!”

“Orion, no!”

The bedroom door slammed open, startling the life out of me. I barely jumped in time as Orion shoved Xander ungracefully into the room. He stumbled, barely catching himself before hitting the dresser, before the door slammed shut.

A lock clicked into place—of course Orion was locking us in here.

Oh God.

Xander didn’t look at me, racing back to the door like he might still catch it before Orion trapped us in here together.

“Orion,” he snapped. “Open the door.”

From the other side: way too pleased. “Not until you talk to her.”

Xander let out a sound that could’ve melted steel. “You’re being a child,” he wiggled the handle, now frosted over completely. “Orion! This is completely inappropriate.”

Silence answered him. I could barely breathe.

“Orion! Open the door! Now! I’m not going to ask you again.”

“If I catch you trying to leave that room, I’ll just toss you right back in there,” Orion’s excessively proud voice was muffled through the wood. “If you won’t talk to me, that’s fine, but you have to talk to her.”

“I— That’s not— No, not like this!“ Xander stuttered. I’d never seen him this… unraveled. I couldn’t make out much with his back still turned to me, but the tension was visible across every inch of his lean frame.

“You have thirty seconds before I break into your mind and read it like a bedtime story for Eve.”

Wait—he can do that?

Before I could even panic about that horrifying detail, Xander moved. Not toward me. Not toward the door.

The window.

I blinked as he stormed across the room, ripped open the curtains, and grabbed the latch.

“Xander, wait!”

He paused, window half-open. Shoulders drawn tight. Fingers clenched the frame like it was the only thing holding him up.

“Please don’t. You don’t have to talk, just… don’t run. Please?”

And then… he exhaled.

“…You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry, Eve.”

His hands fell to his sides. He turned slowly, but he was still avoiding looking at me.

All I could do was stare at him, take in every inch of him as if I wasn’t just dying in his arms only days ago.

He looked fine. Well, kind of. His loose blond hair was unkempt. Shadows lined his eyes, exhaustion hanging off him like a second skin.

But he was still the same man I’d been avoiding noticing.

Too guilty to notice the details that had rooted themselves in my mind.

The curve of his jaw, sharp and shadowed.

The way his sleeves always seemed too tight across his arms when he pushed them up.

Even now, he smelled like peppermint and old books—like safety dressed in deflection.

God, when had I started memorizing him?

I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly too aware of my bare skin, of the fact I was standing here in nothing but Orion’s oversized shirt while Xander wouldn’t even look at me.

Of course he wouldn’t. I wasn’t someone he noticed. Not like that. Not really. Not ever.

Still, neither of us moved.

“OK, I know I said you don’t have to talk, but one of us has to say something.”

He sighed, raking a hand through his hair like he wanted to tear the thoughts out by the roots. His eyes darted—door, window, floor—anywhere but me.

Then—

“I was looking for you.”

I stilled. That wasn’t what I expected.

His words weren’t loud, but they landed like they’d been building in him for days.

“I nearly got to you. I was right there…” he paused. “And I still didn’t make it.”

A slow ache pulsed in my ribs, like my heart had misfired trying to keep up.

His composure wavered, shoulders rigid as if holding something barely restrained. I watched his fingers curl into fists. His jaw locked.

“I watched you die,” he said, and the words fell like stones—measured, bruising. “And I did nothing.”

“I know.”

He froze.

And then, his gaze snapped to mine, finally. Not soft. Not romantic. Just… undone.

“I wasn’t just… gone.”

God, saying it felt like tearing the truth straight out of my chest. “I saw you. I saw myself. And I heard everything,” I swallowed hard. My voice shook, but I forced myself to keep going. “I heard what you said. Every word. And I didn’t… I didn’t come back expecting anything, Xander.”

He flinched, just slightly—but he was listening now. Really listening.

“I know you didn’t ask for this. Any of it. Not me. Not the magic. I’m not trying to trap you in something you didn’t choose. And…” I paused, biting the inside of my cheek. “And I’m sorry if I made it harder. If coming back made it harder.”

“Eve, that’s not—“

“I just… needed you to know I heard you. That your words mattered. Even if I don’t.”

I couldn’t look at him. Not as the tears threatened to overflow. I’d caused enough damage already. He didn’t need one more thing to carry.

Footsteps crossed the floor.

He stopped right in front of me.

“Eve. Look at me.”

I lifted my head.

He was close enough to touch, close enough that I could see every crack in the mask he usually wore. The burning conviction in his eyes. The way he was breathing too hard, like he’d been holding it in for days.

“I should’ve told you everything from the start,” he said. “That first night at the cabin, when I said honesty mattered—I held back. Not just because I was scared. Because I didn’t know what to do with how I felt.”

His gaze drifted for a second, like the words were costing him.

“I’ve been lying to myself since the moment I met you. If I hadn’t… maybe none of this would’ve happened.”

“Xander—”

“You shouldn’t have been taken,” he said. “If I’d told you what I knew, if I’d stopped hiding behind facts and strategy and denial… maybe you wouldn’t have ended up in that church.”

“You couldn’t have—”

“I could’ve tried harder. I could’ve protected you. I asked you to trust me, and I failed,” his voice roughened. “I kept my distance, thinking it was safer for both of us. But all it did was make me too late.”

I was speechless. This man in front of me… I barely recognized him. Not because his strength or pain was unfamiliar, but because I could finally see how much he’d been burying to keep everyone else whole.

“I…” I swallowed hard, eyes searching his face. “You don’t have to do this.”

I couldn’t take it any longer. My skin was itching, begging me to run, but there was no room to escape. My feet started backing away, trying to put distance between us, like it would lessen the pain.

“I’m a mess right now, and I know I’ve made things complicated. But you’ve never wanted this—me—not like that. And that’s okay. Really.”

Then my back hit the door, halting me so suddenly that I gasped. There was no escape. Orion had seen to that. Was he listening through the door? Was he hearing just how much I was humiliating myself?

His stare burned through me. I expected him to turn away, to shut down.

Instead, he moved.

“You think I’m saying this because I feel sorry for you?”

One step. Then another.

“That I don’t care about you? That I don’t want you?”

He stopped just short of touching me, his body a breath from mine. I couldn’t look at him—couldn’t risk meeting the truth in his eyes. Not when I was still braced for rejection.

His hand lifted—hesitated—then found my cheek. His fingers trembled as they brushed my skin, like he wasn’t sure I’d let him.

“I thought I lost you, Eve. Not the Phoenix. Not the magic. You. And it gutted me.”

I inhaled sharply, my body betraying me, leaning toward him like gravity had finally chosen a side.

“I can’t fake this. I wouldn’t know how.”

His thumb swept across my cheek, slowly. Like he was trying to memorize every part of me with just that one touch.

“You think I don’t want you?” he whispered, eyes locked on mine. “You have no idea how hard I’ve fought not to.”

The heat between us ignited—no warning, no mercy.

He tilted my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his, and for one suspended breath, the world narrowed to nothing but him.

He kissed me like it was the only way to prove I was still breathing.