Page 242 of Season Warriors & Wolves

He laid on our bed, propped against the headboard, speaking to his glaring brother. Bandage was wrapped all around his chest and there were several healing craft halos painted black on his skin. He looked tired—but alive.

Don’t be a dream.

Please, gods, do not be a dream.

His attention snapped to me and he made to stand.

I rushed to his side, but I didn’t touch him. What if he disappeared? “Darling?” my voice was hoarse and defeated.

But his was strong, cold and powerful, as always. “Love of mine.” He reached a hand to my face, his thumb catching stray tears.

“Is this a dream?”

“I’d feel very flattered to be in it,” Mal said, and it sounded all too real.

“Not a dream,” Kilian agreed, cupping my face with both hands and I finally made a step closer to him, yet still too afraid to touch him.

“Not a dream,” I repeated and ghosted my fingers across his jaw, brushing my knuckle lightly against the little scar I’d given him there. “Not a dream.”

“Not a dream,” he said and kissed me.

Drowning again.

In a sea of happiness.

But drowning nonetheless. His lips rested against mine, his tongue seeked mine, his sounds forming a thrill on my stomach. Somewhere between kisses, I had pressed my body against his and my fingers grazed the gauze covering the wound he’d intended to hurt me with.

I pulled back a little and whispered harshly, “I will never, ever, Kilian Henrik Castemont, forgive you for it. I will never forgive you.”

“You’re my heartache,” he said, resting his forehead against mine and sighing. “What is one pain for another but unfair?”

“Unforgivable.”

“I’d do it again.”

“So nobody is happy I am alive?” Mal asked, leaning against the wall, grinning at us.

“Cai and Eren?”

He grunted. “They were also not very happy I was alive either.”

I laughed, grabbing his shirt and pulling the idiot into a hug.

“You were some other level heavenly, my queen,” he said, pressing his face on my shoulder. My shirt dampened against my skin. “You should have told me you would fight it.”

“I wasn’t going to, Mal. Visha did.”

“I’ve always liked her.”

The both of us shook with laughter and he pulled back, straightening. “Thora was right. About the whole soul thing. He cannot kill you and you cannot kill him.” He rested a finger on my chest. “His darkness did not manage to kill you, not entirely, it never touched your heart. And whatever little life you had left in you, kept him alive as well. You will tell him now. All of it. No excuse.”

I glanced at him, at my darling looking at me with tears in his eyes. “I will.”

I had not said a word when Medi Healers and Crafters had come to visit us. Plastered to his side, an arm around his waist, I’d witnessed it all and wordlessly hated on Kilian. Who seemed to enjoy the glares and the huffs. The bastard had even dared to smile. Albeit he’d tried to hide it, but how could the sun be hidden even on a cloudy day.

When Visha and Oryn came inside and ordered everyone else out, I shifted and stood a little, still not letting go of Kilian.

I wanted answers for so many questions.