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"Let me look at you, little flower," he says. The sight of a king on his knees between my legs reminds me of that first day I met him, when he shifted into his wolf form in that little clearing and bowed before me so I could climb onto his back.
His hand slides further up my thigh, and I don't want him to look at me anymore. I want his touch.
I shuffle further back onto the bed and kick off my trousers, my eyes following every move of his nimble fingers as he unbuckles his belt. Stripped down to our undergarments, I lie back with my pulse racing as he climbs on top of me. Every perfect, muscled inch of him towering over me and surrounding me, and I want all of him.
He kisses me through the shocks of pain radiating from my heart, coaxing tenderness and longing into every part of me that wants to tense up instinctively in reaction to the curse. I force myself to breathe when the magic threatens to crush me and focus on every place on my body where his skin brushes against mine. Heat builds within me, battling the cold chill of the curse that threatens to freeze me from the inside out.
Tristan's touch is the fire that melts away the ice in my veins. He feels hard against me in the most exquisite way, and I let go of everything except for this moment, giving in to the desire even if it damns me.
"I love you, Iris. I am your mate, and you are mine," he whispers against my cheek as his hand slides in between my legs. "You're mine."
My eyes flutter closed with a ragged breath. But then, an odd sort of numbness creeps across me, and I feel as though I could scream with frustration as Tristan's attention reaches the most intimate parts of me. My body is too heavy, my head too light, and I feel as though my heart is pounding with such force it's going to beat its way right out of my chest.
I tilt my face toward Tristan to search for his kiss, as if his lips could somehow breathe air back into my aching lungs. But I have this strange sense that I'm moving further and further away from my own body, floating away from myself despite my efforts to anchor myself in him.
I cling to him tightly, my nails dragging across his bare back, and I'm vaguely aware of the sound he makes in response, somewhere between a growl and a moan.
I don't want to go. Not yet.
I'm not ready. I still want more of him. I want to taste every inch of him, I want him to fill me until he's ingrained in my soul. Just a few more minutes. Give me just one more kiss.
But I can't feel him anymore.
I open my eyes, blinking a few times as a bright white light blinds me. Everything around me feels fuzzy and far away in a not-quite-real sort of way, like trying to taste something in a dream. I'm not unconscious, but I'm also not exactly awake either.
What happened?
After a few seconds, my vision adjusts to my surroundings. It looks like I'm in the same room, but it's completely devoid of color. The bed I'm lying on is white, just like the floor, the stone walls, the curtains, the ceiling, and even the window. Everything gives off a faint sort of glow that makes things look intangible somehow. It's like the room itself, and everything in it isn't fully solid but rather made of clouds or... moonlight.
Where am I? What is this place?
My thoughts are muddled, and my movements are too slow, like trying to move through water or something even thicker. My body feels distant and tingly, and I can't remember where I was or what I was doing. I get the sense that I'm slipping away, my consciousness drifting into a place I can neither identify nor understand.
I was doing something. I was with someone. Tristan. My mate. We were in the middle of... of...
I can't think straight.
Did I pass out? Where did he go? Or where did I go? What's going on?
I look down, surprised to see the mark on my chest shining the same silvery-white shade as my surroundings. I lift a hand to trace the crescent shape, but then I notice something else, and I press my hand flat against my chest.
The mark is glowing steadily, but below the skin and beneath my bones, there's... nothing. No pulse. No warmth. No steady rise and fall of my own breathing.
No heartbeat.
Chapter Eighteen
Where is Tristan?
He was just with me. He was holding me and saying my name. I remember telling him I love him, and then...
Nothing.
As I sit up on the bed that is not quite my bed in the room that isn't really a room, there is no sign of him. I'm surrounded by that translucent shimmer and utter silence.
"Tristan!" I call out, but only my voice echoes back to me in response. "Tristan! Where are you?"
"He is not here," an ethereal voice says, and I whirl around to face its source.
