Page 85 of She Who Holds My Wrath

I don’t realise I’ve swayed forwards until his hands finally close around my arms, steadying me. The contact is an instant shock. His warmth, his solidness, his scent of smoke and spice, and him. All him. I stiffen, but I don’t pull away. He’s here. He’s real. He’s not a dream or a hallucination or a monster wearing his face. My power recognises him, the bond recognises him.

Slowly, I raise a shaking hand, reaching forwards to feel him. My fingertips brush his cheek. Stubble scrapes at my skin, and heat flares beneath my touch, those strange void-veins shivering.

“Korithax?” I whisper, my eyes frantically searching his face for any sign that this is all a lie.

His eyes lock onto mine. For all the strange new darkness in them, they’re still the eyes that watched me fall asleep, the eyes that burned with rage when anyone hurt me. The eyes that went soft when he called me his wife, his little flower.

“It’s me,” he says, voice barely audible. “I’m here. I’m real. And I swear to you, Daisy Sandoval, Queen of Hell, I will never stop clawing my way back to you. Not even death will keep me from you.”

Something breaks in me. I lunge forward and he catches me, arms wrapping around me so tightly my ribs ache. I cling to him just as hard, fingers digging into the back of his hair, my face crumpling into the crook between his neck and shoulder. I inhale his comforting scent and sob into his skin, ugly and shaking, all the held-in grief pouring out at once. For him. For Talia. For Velentha. For everyone we’ve lost, and everyone we’re still going to lose.

He holds me through it, one massive hand cradling the back of my head, the other banded around my waist like he’s afraid if he lets go, one of us will vanish. I feel something hot drip onto my neck and realise that he’s crying too.

The room is silent around us. I can feel eyes on us—Sariya’s soft sorrow, Elyistria’s bittersweet relief, Lucifer’s quiet satisfaction, and even Maelkar’s carefully masked, chaotic mix of emotions. Aran’s grief is a raw wound at the edge of my senses. But right now, there’s only us.

Our bond surges. It’s not gentle or slow. It erupts in a violent aching pull that snaps so tightly between us, it drags something buried deep inside me screaming back to life. It steals the air from my lungs, rips through every wall I’ve built, every piece of numbness I’ve been clinging to just to survive.

Without meaning to, I move. I tilt my head back and crash into him, finding his mouth with mine. The second our lips meet—everything detonates. White fire explodes from my skin, bursting outwards in a blinding surge, wild and uncontrollable, like a star tearing itself apart. At the same time, something darker answers—his power roaring to life, a black flame that isn’t flame at all, but something like a void, devouring everything it touches.

They collide. Light and dark. Creation and ruin. My fire lashes and curls around his, searing, relentless, and alive. His shadow-like flame wraps around mine, containing them like he’s the only thing capable of stopping me from burning the world down. The air around us screams with it. Power whips around us, tearing through the space, my braid snapping across my face, heat and power clashing violently against my skin.

The ground trembles beneath our feet, and still—I don’t pull away.

Kissing him feels like falling and being caught at the same time. Like grief and fury and relief crashing into each other so hard I can’t tell where one ends, and the other begins. Every place inside me that went cold, warms. Every piece of me that dimmed, ignites. Every broken, hollow part of me, finally breathes again.

I break the kiss first, gasping for air, my forehead dropping against his as my chest heaves. Our flames dim to a simmer, coiled tightly against our skin. For the first time in months, I feel alive. Really, truly alive.

I swallow, my voice wrecked. “You’re late.”

A hoarse laugh escapes him on a breathless huff. “I know.”

“You owe me,” I add, pulling back just enough to glare up at him. “For dying on me. For leaving me to run this shit-show alone.”

His expression sobers, grief carving deeper lines into his face. “I will spend the rest of my existence trying to make it right,” he vows. “I can’t take back what happened. I can only help you end the ones who caused it.”

My lips twitch despite everything. “Good, because I’m not done with killing every person who has betrayed us.”

A flash of pride burns in his eyes. “There she is.”

I sniff, wiping at my cheeks with the back of my hand. “Don’t get used to me crying. I broke that habit.”

“Noted,” he says softly, his thumb brushing away a stray tear I missed.

Behind us, Lucifer clears his throat loudly, the sound slicing through the moment. “Hate to break up the romantic inferno, but we do still have a war to prepare for. And you need a lot of catching up.”

Reality crashes back in, dousing ice over the inferno. War. Death. The Six.

Korithax shifts, lifting me with him as he stands like I weigh nothing at all. I scowl and wriggle until my feet find the ground. “I can stand,” I mutter.

“Humour me,” he murmurs, keeping a steadying hand at the small of my back. His touch sends sparks skittering under my skin.

My gaze drifts to Aran. He’s watching us, the letter crushed in his fist, grief etched into every line of him. It’s written in the set of his shoulders, the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes look hollow. Our eyes meet and guilt spears through my chest. Korithax follows my gaze, his jaw tightening as he understands.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper to Aran.

His smile is thin and shaky. “She chose this,” he says quietly. “For you. For him. For all of us.” His throat bobs. “Just… make it worth it.”

I straighten, my fingers curling, feeling Korithax’s steady presence at my side, Maelkar’s shadows humming nearby, and the goddesses’ power thrumming through the air.