“I’ll be at my cottage. When you’re ready.”
He didn’t answer. Just walked down the porch steps and kept walking, past the manicured gardens that never thrived, past the wrought-iron gates, past the boundaries of the life he’d built on foundations of sand.
The sea cliffswere dark and deserted.
Hux sat on a flat rock at the Overlook, legs dangling over the edge, the ocean churning sixty feet below. This was where Theo had proposed to Avine. Where Leo had finally admitted his feelings to Junie. Where bond after bond had been sealed while Hux watched from the sidelines, wondering why he couldn’t feel what they felt.
Now he knew.
Now he knew the candle had lied. Not deliberately. The flame couldn’t show him a mate because his potential for mates had been consumed before he was born. The Hollow King had eaten his future, and the candle had simply reflected what was left.
Nothing.
A sound behind him. Footsteps on rock. He didn’t turn.
Lunaria settled onto the stone beside him, close enough that her shoulder pressed against his. She didn’t speak. Just sat there, solid and real and impossibly present.
“You should have stayed at the cottage.”
“You should have let me come with you.” Her voice held no judgment. “But we both make stupid decisions when we’re hurting.”
Silence stretched between them. The ocean roared below, indifferent to the small dramas playing out on its cliffs.
“Your father said something before he collapsed.” She reached for his hands, and he let her take them, her grip steady. “Choice. Love. Anyway. What do you think he meant?”
“I don’t know.”
“I think I do.” She scooted closer, her knee pressing against his. “Maybe you don’t get a fated bond, Hux. Maybe that was taken from you before you had any say in it. But that doesn’t mean you can’t choose one.”
“Choose?”
“Choose anyway. That’s what your father was trying to tell you.” Her thumb traced circles on his knuckles. “The Hollow King consumed your potential for a fated mate. But it can’t consume the choice to want someone. It can’t eat the decision to stay, to fight, to build something even when the universe says you can’t.”
“You’re asking me to choose someone who gets nothing in return.” The words scraped raw. “No bond. No awareness. No?—”
“I’m not asking you anything.” Her eyes met his, dark and fierce and impossibly beautiful. “I’m telling you that fate doesn’t get the final say. You do. If you want something badly enough—if you’re willing to fight for it—then maybe thehowdoesn’t matter. Maybe all that matters is the wanting.”
The air between them shifted. Charged. Electric.
“I want you.” He hadn’t meant to say it. “I’ve wanted you since the moment you walked into my office covered in dirt and mocking my forms. My lion knew before I did—roared to attention for the first time in decades and hasn’t shut up since.”
“So don’t shut it up.” She rose onto her knees, her face inches from his. “Don’t control it. Don’t manage it. Just... want.”
He kissed her.
Not like the kiss in the archives—tentative, testing. This was desperation given form. Hunger and grief and years ofstarvation finally finding sustenance. His hands fisted in her hair. Her fingers clawed at his shoulders.
“Not here.” She gasped the words against his mouth. “My cottage. Now.”
They barely made it.
TWENTY
HUX
The door slammed shut behind them.
Hux had her pressed against the wall before the echo faded, his mouth on her throat, her fingers tearing at his shirt. Buttons scattered across the hardwood floor. She laughed—breathless, wild—and yanked the ruined fabric down his arms.
