Page 50 of Forged In Magic

Isaac hunkered down into the mattress as much as the cramped space would allow. He maneuvered Kate so she was straddling him, and she moaned softly as he rested her head on his chest, giving his arms a bit of a break. He would move her again in a little while, making sure she didn’t stay in one position for too long. Anything he could to lessen her muscles cramping, he would.

In the meantime, he let his mind wander.

Austin had been in his thoughts a lot during the last month. Not that he was ever far from them. Yet talking about him with Kate had brought memories of Austin to the forefront and telling the story of his death had Isaac looking at it with a different lens. Or maybe it was facing death that had him reevaluating what had happened.

After Austin’s death, Isaac had been determined to never hurt anyone again. To do that, he had chosen to make all tattoo decisions himself. He hadn’t given Kate or Isabella the opportunity to decide if they wanted to take a risk on their tattoo because he’d taken their choice from them.

He’d been so sure that by making the choices himself, he could prevent hurting anyone. Yet, if he hadn’t given in to Austin, he would have hurt him anyway, because Austin would have come to resent him. Would he have gotten depressed regardless? Was his suicide always fated to happen?

Maybe Kate would have come to resent him too. Would she have also turned to suicide because of her pain? That was a question no one could answer, not even Kate.

When Damon had listened to Isaac’s story about what happened with Austin’s tattoo, he’d asked if the person, meaning Austin, had understood the risks. Isaac admitted that even he hadn’t known the risks. As if somehow he should have known everything that could happen in life. When had he become so arrogant to think he knew or could predict everything?

That’s what he was—arrogant. He’d accused Kate of being a coward because she tried to protect herself by running from her feelings. Isaac had done the exact same thing—act like a coward—but instead of running, he’d used his arrogance as a crutch so he wouldn’t have to accept someone making a decision he thought was dangerous.

Not for the first time during the last month, he wondered what would have happened if he had tattooed Kate sooner. Sure, the tattoo was meant to help her deal with the magic embedded in the sword, but since it was for protection, could it have helped her deflect Maverick’s magic? Another question they’d never know the answer to.

Canting his head to the side, he watched Kate’s face where she rested against his chest as she slept. He wanted to be able to watch her every day. Wake up with her every morning until they were both old and gray. Had he been so arrogant and thoughtless in his life that this was his punishment? Not only would he lose the only woman he had ever loved, but he would have to watch the life drain out of her as her life was cut short with his?

They’d survived so much in the thirty days they’d been trapped in their box. Each time they faced a new challenge, he thought he couldn’t be more terrified. Then something else would get thrown in their path that showed him how wrong he’d been.

In the past few days, Kate had become more and more difficult to rouse from sleep, and the thought that eventually she would never wake again sent a new terror coursing through him. It forced him to realize that he’d still been clinging to a tiny bit of hope after all. Then it died.

They were going to die in this room, and he wouldn’t be able to live even an hour without her. He would love her until his last breath and when she took her last before him, his would follow right after.

He lifted her higher up on his chest, bringing their faces closer together. Then he closed the few inches between them and glided his lips over hers. “Merry Christmas, Kate. My turquoise,” he whispered.

His voice caught in his throat, and he swallowed as he felt tears slide down his cheeks. “I love you and I will for eternity.”

He kissed her again and held her tight as sleep dragged him under.

19

Isaac’s heart swelled with love as he watched Kate run through the high grass. She laughed, the carefree sound floating toward him. The air was cool for the early September morning, but it made for a perfect day to be outside. The sun felt warm on his face, and he welcomed the sensations, thinking it had been far too long since he’d felt them.

The wildflowers were still in full bloom, bright pinks and purples adding splashes of color to the green grass. The mountains towered in the distance as if protecting all below them.

As Kate ran, her hair flowed behind her like a cape caught in the wind. She slowed and turned around before walking backward, smiling at something. Isaac’s gaze tracked her path. He’d been so enraptured with Kate, he hadn’t noticed the little boy, maybe two years old, who toddled after her. His short legs were mostly hidden in the tall grass as he followed.

Kate held out her hand and a sword appeared. It was long and silver with a simple design spiraling around it. Without looking closely, Isaac knew it was made of rubber. Crouching down, Kate passed the sword to the toddler. His laughter bubbled up, innocent and cheerful as he grasped the rubber hilt.

As the boy swung the sword over his head, Kate conjured another one. Adopting the voice of an evil witch, she pretended to cackle and warned the boy to run. He laughed and almost toppled over in his excitement. After steadying him, she stepped back and cackled again, encouraging him to run.

Catching on to the game, the boy held his sword in front of him and toddled as fast as his little legs would take him. Kate closed in on him, continuing to cackle and talk in her witchy voice.

The little boy looked back at her, laughing with joy. Then his sword caught in the grass, and he stumbled forward.

Isaac’s heart clenched before he let out a breath as Kate picked up the boy. She held him high above her face, her dress flattening against her rounded belly with the action, as she blew a raspberry on his neck.

In some far recess of his mind, Isaac knew the sight before him was a dream. He was only a bystander, watching a wish of what could never be.

“Isaac!”

He turned, looking for the person who had called his name.

Far off in the distance, he could see Kate’s house and her workshop. A woman stepped out from the shadows of the building. Something about her seemed familiar, but he turned away since he yearned to watch Kate with the little boy.

“Isaac! Isaac!” the woman continued to call to him. Her voice had taken on an urgent tone, sounding closer now.

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