Page 118 of Reaper's Ruin
It was enough to drive me mad all over again. But I held the line. Bit down on every need. Because I couldn’t give in again.
Not when every second I touched her, I fell deeper.
Not when I knew I’d lose her.
I had to keep her at arm’s length—no matter how it destroyed me. Because if I let go again... if I tasted her again, held her again, kissed her again—
I wouldn’t survive the moment she left.
And she would leave.
Her door would come. Her peace. Her afterlife.
And I’d be left behind, standing in the wreckage of what we were. Of what we could never be.
So I rebuilt the armor around my heart, reinforced the iron bars, and tried to deflect the blows of those eyes, those lips, that woman.
Mywoman.
But the truth was cruel and inescapable.
She wasn’t mine.
She was never meant to be mine. And I didn’t know how to stop wanting her anyway.
“Moonshadow is exhausted,” I said, my tone leaving no room for argument. “And so are you.”
She didn’t answer, just stared straight ahead at the narrowing path that wound between ancient trees. The forest had grown denser as we’d traveled, the undergrowth thicker, slowing our progress. We were still at least a day’s ride from the Flame Court border.
We needed rest, but I also had the constant nagging thought that Storm Warriors were expert trackers. Moonshadow, magnificent as he was, left tracks that even a novice could follow. And we’d made no effort to conceal our trail in our desperate flight from the castle.
They would be behind us. The only question was how close.
As if in answer to my unspoken fear, a sound reached my ears—a distant thunder, too rhythmic to be natural. I felt Soraya stiffen against me.
Hoofbeats.
“They’re coming,” I whispered.
“The Storm Warriors?” Her voice was tight with fear.
I listened, counting the beats. “A dozen, at least.”
“What do we do?” She twisted to look back at me, her eyes wide, and for a moment, I forgot everything but the need to keep her safe.
I scanned our surroundings, searching for any advantage. The forest grew denser to our right, the trees closer together, the undergrowth thicker. The terrain was rougher there, with steep slopes and rocky outcroppings—difficult riding for Stormsteeds. To our left, the ground sloped downward toward a narrow stream, the path easier but more exposed.
The hoofbeats grew louder. Minutes, not hours, separated us from our pursuers.
“Get off,” I decided, and she slipped to the ground quickly. I leapt off after her, grabbing the halter and sliding it from Moonshadow’s head.
I pressed a hand to his neck, my forehead to his. “Thank you for your help, Moonshadow. Now you need to run back to your herd. Find your friends. Lead them away from us.”
He seemed to sense my need, and when I stepped back and waved my hand at him, he took off galloping. I looked at the ground, noting the deep tracks he left in his wake.
“How are we going to catch him?” Soraya asked watching Moonshadow disappear through the trees.
“We’re not. He’ll lead them away with any luck and then you and I can hide. We’ll finish the journey on foot.”
