Page 124 of Mortdale

His whole body enveloped mine, trapping me between his strong arms as he tugged hard until both the heart and the stone came undone. Holding me against his chest, he pushed against the waters, swimming for the surface. I felt warm, safe. Not entirely hopeless. I wanted to live—so desperately I felt sick.

The first breath was always the hardest. I could understand why we came into the world screaming. My lungs were filled with rage, for letting air flood their chambers.

He laid me down on the ground, running his hands all over me, cradling my face, skimming my arms, brushing the matted hair off my eyes. He was panting, water dripping from his hair. A drop on my eyelids, another against my lips.

I closed my eyes, smiling. I loved rain. Especially when it smelled like him.

“Don’t,” he said, and I forced them open. “Not until I know you’re okay. You can close them when I know you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” I said.

He dropped to the ground, sprawling on his back next to me. We were both still breathing hard, white mist evaporating from our mouths. Every inch of our limbs soaked and cold and matted with silt.

As the morning sun broke through the surface to colour the skies in lilac and orange, he turned on his side, cupping my face with a hand and bracing his forehead against mine. “Reckless witch. Ridiculous witch.”

He climbed on top of me, caging my waist between his thighs as he undid his tie and grabbed my hands to bind them together with it.

I blinked fast. “What are you doing?”

Shaking his wet handkerchief, she bunched it up and shoved it in my mouth. “I will lock you in the fucking cellar if it means keeping you safe. Do you know what it would have cost you if you’d cast one more spell?” he asked, his wet eyes pacing between mine as his shaking palm hit his chest. “Do you know what it would have cost me?”

Chapter 23

Willow

Isat against Logan’s bed, one wrist handcuffed to the frame, watching Christof help him into his uniform. His eyes never left me for a second. He’d not even blinked once, too focused on thieving my soul with his gaze.

I spat out the tie he’d shoved in my mouth after he’d brought me home, washed and dried me, fucked me, and then tied me to the bed again. “If there is something you want to say, you should say it before you run off to die in this useless battle.”

Christof glanced at me and then back at his lord, clearing his throat before leaving the room.

“Scared I might come back to haunt you?” he asked, tightening his holsters. “Because I will, Willow Duncan. I will come back to fucking haunt you.”

I adjusted my bound hand, turning on my side to give him my back. “Do as you please.”

“You really want me to die out there, don’t you?”

I grabbed a pillow off the bed and launched it at his face. “You hateful man.”

Arthur and Henry stepped into the room when Logan’s wrathful gaze turned in my direction.

He slipped out of their grasp, backing me against the headboard and lowering his face until his nose touched mine. “Infuriating woman.”

“Logan, come on, we need to leave,” Henry implored, reaching for Logan’s shoulder, only to be shrugged off.

“Curse me and wish me death, witch, because if I come back alive from this war, you’ll never be free of me.”

Frustrated tears poured out of my burning eyes as I choked on breathless sobs. “I’ll never be free of you. Not even in death.”

A shuddering exhale left his lips, and his head lowered, his brow grazing mine as he held me close. The corner of his mouth slowly tipped up, and his eyes dropped below us to where Thomas was clawing and humping away at his leg.

He was wrenched off me again, no longer a scab, no longer patching a wound—he was part of my flesh, torn off me like a vital limb. His steps lagged as he was dragged away from me by his friends.

The first sob stabbed against my chest. The second burnt through my stomach like acid. And by the third, he was there, on his knees before me, his lips sealed against mine, the taste of tears and blood filling my mouth.

“Don’t go. Don’t leave me,” I told him. “I might not be here when you come back.”

“You will live. Even if it is the last thing I do.”