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Eventually, we separate and crawl under the blankets. Alaric’s arm curls around my middle, pulling my back against his chest.
“All those days in that cell, I tried to deny you, and the things you said. But every day, every cup of blood you sent to me, quieted my mind. I can remember nothing but being loyal to her, yet my body and my soul longed for you,” he whispers into my shoulder.
I am unsure how to respond to that in a way that wouldn’t sound arrogant. And I don’t want to put added pressure on him as he struggles to find his own way. So, I say nothing.
“I cannot deny you any longer, even if I wanted to.”
I take his hand and kiss his palm before pressing it against my cheek. He sighs and relaxes into me. Neither of us breaks the silence for a long time. The celebration’s music continues beyond the walls of this small cabin, muffled and distant.
“Sometimes,” Alaric says quietly. I am not sure if he knows if I’m awake or thinks I’m sleeping. “I feel as though I am fracturing, and at any moment, I might break into a thousand pieces.”
My eyes prickle instantly. I do not know if he intends for me to hear, but I cannot bear to stay silent. I twist in his arms and cup his face. The tears fall when I blink, and I make no move to hide them. “If you fall apart, then I will help piece you back together.”
He gazes at me with such raw emotion that this small moment is the most intimate thing I have ever experienced with anyone, even after the last hour. Every barrier we possessed has shattered, including the ones we never knew existed. What I said before—loving every side and every part of him—is true. I hadn’t realized just how true until now.
“I will end this curse,” I say again. “Or I will find a way for you to. Either way, I will be with you, and I will see you safe.” I am not entirely sure why I say this to him again. I suppose I feel the need to give him something to hold on to. Some comfort or sliver of hope.
He dips his head and kisses me in a way that I can only describe as reverent. “I think I am beginning to understand why I fell in love with you in the first place,” he whispers, eyes drifting closed.
He says it with all the importance of a passing thought, with no more consequence than a comment on the weather. I wonder if he is aware of what he said or what it means to me.
I am drifting off to sleep when the music stops. Rather than the gradual fade of festivities coming to an end, it’s a jarring halt mid-song. Alaric stirs, his arms holding me a fraction tighter.
Good things tend to end far too soon, and it is because of their fleeting nature that we spend our lives chasing them. Wordlessly, we untangle ourselves and redress. Once we step outside, this private world we hid in will be gone. I’m not ready to let it go yet, but time doesn’t care for the wants of the living.
Alaric follows a step behind as we make our way to the center of town. Pack members pass us, hurrying to return to their huts, some rushing with heads down, others helping those unsteady on their feet.
In the center of the clearing, Oliver is with Adalynd and Hunt, huddled close around a young, dark-haired scout I do not know. He is tall with a young face.
The scout looks up as we near, drawing the attention of the others to our approach.
“You,” Hunt seethes.
I draw up short, taken aback by the viciousness in his voice. He was always so mild-mannered before.
Hunt storms over. Oliver and Adalynd are not far behind. It’s then I see what they were all looking at. In his fist, the scout has a tight grip on a small gray bat.
“Cherno?” I reach for the demon, but the scout yanks his arm back with a scowl.
“It’s all right, that is my—our demon,” I say. The only thing stopping me from further argument is the struggle behind me.
I whirl to find that the betas are restraining Alaric. Adalynd ties his wrists behind his back while Hunt holds a knife to his throat. I take a half step toward him, but Alaric flashes me a warning look.
“I will go with you willingly,” Alaric says calmly.
Hunt leads him away, motioning for Adalynd to remain behind.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CLARA
“I caughtthis demon trying to get past the wards,” the scout says. “I don’t know how they tracked us, but I think it was trying to lead Elizabeth’s army here.”
“That’s not true!” I snap. “Cherno would never do anything like that.”
“It’s a demon—of course they would,” he retorts.
Oliver groans. “Give her the bat, Emmett.”
