Page 179 of Harbinger

That I can’t run from this any more than I can run from my own heart.

Bishop leads me to the garden, where the sounds of the sea are wild tonight as waves break against the cliffs below. Ocean gusts rattle the branches of the trees, all bare save for the one that Hadrian healed with his magic.

He stops under that tree and turns to face me. Moonlight spills across him, casting a glow over the sharp planes of his face and deepening the rims of his eyes. “This seems like a good place for a new start.”

“What about the Threshold?” I glance toward the house.

“The Threshold will wait.” His hand tightens on mine, and want courses through me, the small touch enough to remember all the places his skin met mine the other night. Under the stars, I can’t remember why I pushed him away. Not when he’s looking at me like he’d wait forever.

And he could. Because he will never fade. Never grow frail or wane into something unrecognizable.

Never die.

The thought sends a spark racing through me, like standing on the edge of something vast with no bottom in sight and choosing to step forward anyway.

Maybe that’s all I’ve ever needed—to pull him closer instead of pushing him away. So, I take a single, tentative step.

The surf crashes on the rocky cliff behind me, and something in him seems to answer it, his chest heaving as if he’s the one being dragged under.

I open my mouth, not quite sure what I’m going to say, but he cuts me off. “I have your present for you.”

“Another one?” My pulse jumps at the memory of the last gift he gave me and how it ended.

“I’ve wanted to give this to you all day.” He glances up, the smile on his face so soft, so boyish, so hopeful that it steals my breath. “But I haven’t been able to get you alone. I thought I’d have to sneak it into your boot after all.”

There’s no accusation in the words, just a gentle acknowledgment that I’ve been avoiding him. I don’t know how to explain why I hid, why I left, why part of me is still screaming to run while my heart is still intact.

Bishop misreads my silence, and the smile falls from his face. “If you’d rather go back to the party …”

A laugh bursts out of me. The oscen startles from its nest, wings rustling as it lifts into the night like it knows the moment demands privacy.

He tilts his head, mouth curving again. “I take it you’re not enjoying yourself.”

“Your family is … interesting.” It’s the nicest thing I can think to say about most of them, but I walk it back. “Not that I’ve spoken to all of them.”

His thumb rubs circles on the back of my hand, and it’s nearly impossible to think of anything but that singular touch. “Let me save you the trouble. They’re all the same. Wolves circling and waiting for the carrion.”

“They’re going to be waiting a long time, then,” I say, trying to keep my tone light, even as my body grows heavy, each moment making it harder to stand still when all I want to do is crash into him.

“I suppose you’re right.” He pulls his hand away, and I instantly miss his warmth.

But I was the one who ran. I left him there.

This moment deserves to be on his terms.

His fingers find the edge of the coat still hanging off my shoulders, and for a single, breathless second, I think he’s going to pull me in for a kiss. But instead, he withdraws a small box from the pocket and places it in my hand. It’s wrapped in white paper with a gold ribbon.

I stare at it, a tiny ripple of guilt coasting through me. “I still never got you anything.”

Bishop bites his lower lip like he’s trying to hold himself back. And loses the fight. “I think the baths were more than enough.”

I flush, looking down at the ground. So little space left between us, but we’re both still tiptoeing toward that line.

“I’m sorry,” he adds. “I shouldn’t—”

“Stop.” I cut him off. I clear my throat, trying to find the right way to make this confession. In the end, I blurt out, “I wouldn’t change it. I’m glad that it happened.”

And there it is: the truth.