Page 61 of Gone Hunting

I nuzzle her neck, wondering why my eyes sting the way that they do. “I feel the same.”

The wind picks up outside, pushing the darkening clouds to cover what remains of the sunlight. A few birds skitter past the window and a few chirp further away. But the sound that takes up the room is our quiet breathing.

Our chests rise and fall in unison in the minutes that follow.

“Can I tell you something?” Celia asks. “Something that no one else knows?”

“You can tell me anything.”

I mean what I say, and she seems to want to tell me. Still, it takes her a moment to answer. “I get scared a lot.”

Her admission gives me pause. I think I know why, but I try to make sure. “Being here? With all this dark magic?”

“No. Being anywhere.” She sighs. “So much has happened to me and to my sisters, Aric. We’ve helped each other through it and I’ve tried to be strong and make things right. But sometimes, it’s so hard. And some days, I don’t think I’ll ever be enough.”

“Celia.” I want to offer words of comfort except they don’t come.

“I don’t know what’s coming, Aric. I just know something is. Something bad. When it arrives, I may not be strong enough to stop it, or have what it takes to protect my family.”

“You’re not alone, Celia. We can protect your family together.”

“You’re sweet. But your life is here. Mine isn’t. I have to go back, and it has to be soon. Regardless of what Mimi says, the only way to make sure my family is safe is for me to return.”

I close my eyes, thankful that she can’t see the grief plaguing my features. How can I make her understand that my life isn’t anything without her in it? Two days. That’s all I’ve known Celia. No time at all to fall as hard as I have, but here I am, falling further.

A wolf is only as good as his word. It’s one of the first things Dad taught me. I promised to get Celia back to her home, but I no longer think it’s a promise I can keep. Each moment that passes between us makes me think her home is here with me.

My thumb sweeps back and forth across her stomach, tracing invisible lines and swirls. I need Celia. I only wish she needed me, too.

She curls her spine, settling her body closer to me. She slept in that brown dress Mom wears when she tends to her herbs. It smells of sage and spearmint. Mostly it smells of Celia, kindness, beauty, and plenty of smarts. Someone who deserves happiness and maybe someone who can give it to her.

I sigh, pushing my selfish desires aside and focusing on what’s right. “You’ll get back to your family.”

“When?” she asks.

I press a kiss against her shoulder and give her a squeeze. “Whenever we can manage it.”

“Thank you,” she says, her voice softening with what I interpret as hope. Hope that she makes it back to her family . . . or maybe hope for us.

I focus on the latter as silence overcomes the room. The outdoors isn’t as quiet. The increasing sound of the wind beats against the pane, drowning out the caw of crows urgent to seek shelter.

My body relaxes from the feel of Celia so close, my immediate fear of losing her lessening. For now, she’s here. For now, she’s mine. So, for now, that’s all I’ll focus on.

“I’m not sure how this keeps happening,” I say after a while. “Me showing up here, I mean.”

“Mm-hmm.”

I laugh. “You don’t believe me?”

“Not even a little bit,” she says.

“You should.” We snuggle deeper beneath the blankets when the wind beats harder against the window.

“Why?” she asks.

I grin. She’s all sorts of cute. “Because I don’t want you afraid of me.”

Her small nails skim across my forearms, delicately teasing the skin. Mini-bolts of energy surge along the pathways, causing my body to heat.

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