Page 158 of Kingdom of Chaos
It’s a long while before I’m able to summon the willpower to pull away. As much as it kills me, I step back, forcing a sliver of space between us so I can hear what she has to say.
With her standing there, lips swollen, hair mussed from where I ran my fingers through it . . . I almost cave. Especially as she stares back at me, half stunned, half flustered, looking both adorable and impossibly sexy. A combination on her that I’ve never been able to resist.
Even now, I wonder if I’ll need to close my eyes just to concentrate on what she’s saying.
I can’t stop myself from brushing the hair behind her ear, letting my fingers trace the delicate slope of her lobe.
A shudder runs through her, and I feel it, too, like a current sparking between us.
“How?” is all I can manage, but she knows exactly what I’m asking.
“Imogen,” she answers softly, then takes a shaky breath, like she’s trying—and failing, like I am—to slow her heart rate.
I lift an eyebrow, not having expected that answer.
“Imogen?” I repeat, and she nods.
“She found another way to sever the tether between us. The method took a while to track down, a lot of boring research, and there were some unusual ingredients we had to gather to make it work, but it did. At least I think it did, because I’m here.” A nervous laugh slips out of her. “And you’re still alive.”
I huff out a half laugh with her. “I’m very glad about that.”
“Me too,” she says with a smile that dulls a moment later. “You need to know, I couldn’t have done it without your mother’s help,” she adds quietly, her gaze watching me carefully, as if bracing for my reaction.
My mother?
The mention of her sends a sharp pain through my chest. When I fled Grimspire with Locklyn and the others, I knew itwould probably be the last time I ever saw my mother. I’d come to terms with that, but hearing her brought up now hits me harder than I expected.
I love my family, but in their eyes—and in mine until Locklyn stormed into my life—the mission of the Society always came first. Before friends. Before family. Before love.
I never would have believed my mother would lift a finger to help Locklyn, an outsider who was never meant to know our secrets. My chest tightens with a quiet kind of gratitude, knowing I was wrong.
“She also granted me permission to go through a gate closer to New York City this time,” Locklyn says softly.
I shake my head, stunned, speechless.
Her expression dims, just a flicker, like there’s something she doesn’t want to tell me. But then I watch her gather the courage, like she always does, and she presses on.
“Even though Shadow Striker is in pieces, it still holds some lingering power. We don’t know if it’s safe for you, or rather, for us, to be in the same world as what’s left of the blade.”
I nod, understanding what she’s not saying outright. That I can never return to the creature world. Not while the remnants of Shadow Striker still exist.
There’s a pinch of sadness at that thought, but not as much as I would have expected. Perhaps the human world has grown on me over these past few months?
Maybe, but I suspect the real reason is that it’s not really the creature world I’ve been longing for.
It’s her.
And now that she’s here, standing in front of me, real and solid, I don’t seem to care as much about the world and the life I left behind.
Her tongue slides over her bottom lip, wetting it, probably without even realizing it. That small, familiar gesture nearlysnaps my control. I miraculously manage to hold on, because I have to know. How long do I get? How many minutes, hours, days do I have to squeeze in a lifetime’s worth of moments before we’re parted again?
“When do you go back?” I ask, the words rough, bracing myself for the answer I don’t want to hear.
Her head tilts slightly, confusion crossing her face.
“To the creature world,” I clarify. And because I can’t stand not touching her, I cradle her face in my hands. “How long do I have with you?”
Understanding lights in her eyes, and she places her hand over mine, her touch grounding me, assuring me she’s really there and not some figment of my imagination that’s going to disappear when I blink.
