Page 86 of Lured By Shadows

“She seems ablaze with youth,” he said quietly. “I am sure you will provide her what she seeks. The darkness that completes her light.”

The words struck deeper than Rupert’s cruelty. Faith carried weight. Expectation carved deeper than doubt. I would not fail.

I nodded once, unable to answer, and left before the fracture widened.

The flight home was punishment.

Time stretched into something viscous and hostile, each second clinging to the next as if it resented my urgency. The cabin felt too small, the air too thin, my body locked in a constant state of restraint bordering on agony. Instinct screamed at me to tear free, to abandon metal and sky alike and simply go to her, but discipline held me in place like a blade pressed against my spine.

She filled my mind without mercy.

Not memory exactly, but sensation. The warmth of her skin. The cadence of her breath when she slept. The way her voice dipped when she tried to sound casual about something that mattered too much.

Still, the void scraped against something vital inside me, widening with every mile that separated us.

I pushed the flight beyond reason. Regulations were irrelevant. Time itself bent beneath the weight of my need. Storms meant nothing. Altitude meant nothing. I had endured centuries of war, famine, collapse, and endless monotony without flinching, but this… This waiting felt like being slowly flayed from the inside out.

Nothing could end me. Not blades. Not fire. Not the quiet erosion of centuries. Only her.

The car barely slowed before I was out, the engine’s hum still vibrating through the night as my feet hit the pavement. My senses flared instantly, snapping open with predatory precision.

Her scent wrapped around the house, warm and unmistakable, threaded through wood and stone as though she had unknowingly claimed the space. It grounded me. Nearly softened me. The knowledge that she was here—alive, breathing, existing—settled something violent inside my chest.

For half a heartbeat, I allowed myself that relief, indulging in the fragile equilibrium of her nearness.

Then it vanished.

A wrongness crept beneath the sweetness, subtle but unmistakable, like a single thread pulled loose from a familiar pattern.

It was masculine. It wasn’t hers, and it sure as hell wasn’t mine.

Fury iced through my veins, sharp and absolute, stripping away anything that even resembled mercy. My body moved before thought could catch up, instinct taking over with lethal clarity.

The stairs blurred beneath my feet.

The door gave way beneath my hand with a splintering crack, hinges screaming as the wood bowed and surrendered. I didn’t remember crossing the threshold.

I didn’t care.

All that mattered was the pressure building in my chest, the singular, feral certainty burning through me as I stepped inside, territorial instinct etched deep into my bones.

Someone had tried to claim her.

And whoever it was had just made the worst mistake of their life.

23

Today, I kept telling myself I was going to buckle down and get some real work done, maybe crank out something decent and feel like a normal person for once without all the bullshit weighing me down… Even though lately, any plan I tried to stick to slipped right through my fingers before I could get a proper hold on it.

“Hey, Ma,” I called when I spotted her near the front door, tugging her coat into place while adjusting her scarf like she already had a checklist running through her head. She always carried that brisk efficiency right before she left, like a switch flipped her straight into mom-business mode.

“Hey, sweetie,” she answered with a soft smile that creased the corners of her eyes. “I’m heading out for a bit.”

I blinked, tilting my head. “You’re leaving?”

“Mr. Scarbrough mentioned they’d be returning soon,” she said, smoothing the sleeve of her coat like she’d already rehearsed the explanation. “I need to get a few things sorted before he arrives.”

“Oh,” I replied, trying to sound casual even as my voice caught slightly. My chest tightened.