Page 59 of Mane Squeeze
She hit the dreamscape like a thunderclap.
The veil warped. The stars screamed.
Dominic lay crumpled at the base of a rune circle, his body limp, eyes half-lidded, blood streaking down his face. Thaloryn stood above him—calm, immaculate, wicked.
“You’re persistent,” he said, and there was a curl of something cruel in his voice. Displeasure.
Lillith hit the ground between them, hands blazing. “Back.Off.”
The prince turned, his glamour rolling over her like fog.
“Lillith,” he said, almost fondly. “You’ve grown.”
“That’s not my name toyou.”
He stepped closer. “Isn’t it? You’re mine, and we both know it.”
She raised both hands.
Magic coiled around her like armor. The runes around Dominicshattered—their power cut mid-glow. The prince flinched.
She lunged, dropping beside Dominic. “Hey. Lion boy.” Her voice cracked. “Open those damn eyes.”
Behind them, Thaloryn snarled. “You think this is love? Thiswins?”
Lillith didn’t look up. She pressed her magic into Dominic, a steady current of warmth and light. “No,” she said quietly. “But itfights.And that’s more than you’ll ever understand.”
He roared, raising his hand.
She met it with her own.
Magic exploded from her skin. Pure, wild, and laced with fire. It hit him full-force.
Thaloryn flew backward like a ragdoll, vanishing into the shadows he’d crawled from. Not destroyed. Not yet. Butdiminished.
The dreamscape calmed. The stars stopped flickering.
Dominic gasped as color rushed back to his face.
She touched her forehead to his. “You’re safe,” she whispered.
He squeezed her hand.
And though she couldn’t say it yet—not out loud—the truth thrummed through her blood like a second heartbeat.
She loved him.
And she wasn’t afraid anymore.
27
DOMINIC
Waking up had never felt quite like this before.
Dominic’s body ached in places he didn’t know could ache. His throat was raw, like he’d been screaming into a void. Muscles twitched without rhythm, his skin tingled like a sunburn under a winter wind. But it was the warmth brushing against his side, the steady, living warmth, that drew him from the fog.
The scent hit him next—lavender, smoke, and something sharper.Her. Always her.
