Chapter 154
‘Nathaniel‘
We left at dawn.
Or we were supposed to.
Bastain had already gathered what we needed–maps, scrolls, fragments of a gate path traced by old leyline routes and guessed history. Ethan had gone to prep the northern scouts, his jaw tense, his silence louder than orders. Max stood just beyond the tree line, pacing like a caged thing, half–ready to kill and half–ready to shatter.
And I…
I couldn’t leave yet.
Not without seeing her.
I found Jiselle by the slope above the gorge, her back to me, wrapped in the same worn cloak she used when she needed to disappear but not go far. The sky hadn’t brightened yet, but the first violet hues were bleeding into the dark, staining the stars with dawn’s approach. The leyline shimmered faintly beneath her feet. Even now, it called to her.
She turned when I approached, and the look on her face hit me harder than any fist ever could.
Not fear. Not rage.
Resignation.
Like she knew the ending already.
“You’re leaving soon,” she said quietly.
“Yeah.”
Her lips pressed together. “To the First Circle.”
“We’ll stop him, Jiselle. Kael doesn’t get to write the end of this.”
She nodded once. Then again, slower.
And then she looked away.
I stepped closer. “Say it.”
“What?”
“Whatever you’re holding in. Say it.”
She hesitated. Her hands were clenched at her sides, fingers pale from the grip.
“I’m scared,” she whispered, “Not of Kael. Not of the Gate.”
She looked at me fully then.
“I’m scared this is the last time I’ll get to look at you without fire in my eyes.”
My breath caught.
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She wasn’t being dramatic. She wasn’t searching for pity.
She was being honest.
And it gutted me.
“Jiselle…”
“I feel it every day now,” she said, stepping toward me. “Like there’s more of it than there is of me. And when you look at me like that..
“Like what?”
“Like I’m still yours,” she breathed.
“You are.”
Her voice cracked. “Then what happens if the flame wins?”
“It won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No,” I said, stepping closer, closing the gap between us, “I don’t.”
Her eyes searched mine. “So what now?”
I stared at her.
All the words I could’ve said–gone.
All the promises I could’ve made–useless.
There was only one thing left.
I reached for her.
Fisted my hand in the back of her cloak and pulled her into me.
And kissed her.
Hard.
Desperate.
Like it might be the last.
She gasped against me, and I caught the sound in my mouth, swallowing it like it was the only breath I’d ever need. My other hand cupped the side of her face, thumb brushing her jaw, and she melted into me–not gentle, not slow. Starving.
Her hands gripped my shirt, dragged me down with her until we were on the soft moss, knees bruising, bodies pressing tight. H mine, and I groaned into her mouth, dizzy from the heat already curling between us.
“Tell me to stop,” I breathed.
“No,” she said, pulling my shirt over my head in one movement.
“Jis-”
que swept against
“I don’t want soft,” she whispered against my throat. “I want now. I want you.”
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I kissed her again, slower this time, tasting every piece of her.
The bond pulsed between us, brighter than before, not just warmth but heat, living flame.
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She yanked me down, fingers tracing the lines of my chest, nails dragging, and I shuddered. I slid my hand up under her cloak, over bare skin, over ribs that trembled when I kissed beneath her collarbone.
She pulled me with her as she lay back, legs parted, eyes wide open and locked on mine.
There was no hiding here.
Only fire.
And we let it burn.
I didn’t rush. I didn’t let her rush either. I kissed down the column of her throat, over the scar on her shoulder, to the place where the bond pulsed loudest beneath her skin. Her breath hitched, and her hips arched up into me.
I didn’t need permission.
She gave it in every breath.
Every moan.
Every tear that slipped down her cheek when I finally sank into her and the bond split open in a blaze of violet light.
We moved like the world was ending.
Because maybe it was.
Maybe this was the last thing either of us would ever have that felt real.
Her body was soft beneath mine but strong, every muscle trembling, every inch alive. My name broke from her lips like a prayer, and I buried myself in her, grounding both of us in skin and sweat and breath.
She kissed me like she needed me to stay.
I kissed her like I’d never leave.
And when we broke together–shaking, gasping, souls nearly torn from our bodies–she clung to me like she could hold me together.
We didn’t speak.
We didn’t move.
We just lay there, tangled in limbs and fate, the rhythm of our breathing the only sound between us. The air had gone still, wrapped around us like silk heavy with tension, and above, the stars blinked down like ancient witnesses–watching, waiting, mourning something they hadn’t yet named.
Her skin was slick with sweat, her breath still unever against my shoulder. I brushed my hand over her ribs, down to where her heart beat steady beneath skin gone almost too warm.
And that’s when I felt it.
A tremor beneath my palm.
Not a heartbeat–something else.
Something foreign.
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Something ancient.
She stiffened, her breath catching with a soft gasp. I pulled back just enough to look at her–and froze.
The rune etched into her skin glowed like a brand. Not faint. Not flickering.
Blazing.
Brilliant violet light pulsed from it, painting the lines of her chest and the underside of her throat like fire beneath glass.
She looked down, eyes wide, panic blooming in her face. “It hurts,” she whispered, voice thin and brittle.
I cupped her cheek immediately, grounding her, forcing her eyes back to mine. “It’s the bond,” I said, though my voice didn’t sound convinced. “Or… the
Gate.”
Her head shook once, hard. “No,” she breathed. “It’s both.”
And then she arched suddenly, spine bowing as if something invisible had punched through her. Her mouth parted in a scream–but she swallowed it, biting into her lip, trembling violently in my arms. I caught her, cradling her against me as her entire body began to shake, heat radiating from her like a fever with no source, no mercy.
The runè on her chest twisted.
Literally shifted–lines crawling like living veins, rearranging beneath her skin.
Symbols thickened, locked into place, and pulsed.
Not just glowing.
Counting down.
One line flared and vanished.
Then another.
Like some ancient, silent clock had awakened inside her, ticking toward something neither of us understood.
I held her tighter, pressing her back to my chest, trying to keep her anchored while the world inside her rewrote itself in real time.
Her breath came in short, shallow gasps, her chest rising and falling like she’d just been dragged from drowning.
“Shhh,” I whispered, rocking her instinctively, the way you might rock a blade you couldn’t pull out. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, flame.“”
Her eyes met mine, and something inside me cracked wide open.
She looked at me like she was falling.
Not into danger.
Into me.
And I felt it all–raw, unspeakable love. Terror that she wouldn’t come back the same. Faith that somehow, we’d survive this anyway.
“I’m not ready,” she whispered, so softly I almost didn’t hear it.
“I am,” I said, even though it was a lie. “And you don’t have to be. Just let me hold you.”
Her arms curled around my ribs like she was trying to disappear inside me, and t held her back just as fiercely, like if I kept her close enough, nothing could touch her. Not the Gate. Not the flame. Not fate.
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We stayed like that for a long time.
Long enough for the light beneath her skin to dim from fire to ember. Long enough for her breath to slow. Long enough for her fear to finally yield to
exhaustion.
Eventually, her head rested against my bare chest again. Her lashes fluttered closed, her hands still curled into my side. Her breathing evened out. And the rune–the traitorous, beautiful, terrible rune–still pulsed against my skin.
I didn’t sleep.
Couldn’t.
Because I knew what this was.
This wasn’t peace.
It wasn’t healing.
It was the calm before a storm so old even the stars had forgotten its name.
Not an end.
A warning,
We had hours.
Maybe less.
And the Gate wasn’t waiting anymore.
It was watching.
AD
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
