Page 111 of A Curse in Darkness

“Fuck,” he said when I collapsed against him. “My beautiful dove.”

He slid his fingers from me and lifted them, slipping them into his mouth, tasting me. Then, without a word, he grabbed a washcloth and worked it over me before he proceeded to wash my hair.

“Will you still want me…when I’m old?” I whispered, the words wrenched from me. I’d never felt more vulnerable in my life.

He stilled.

“You’re immortal, Warrick. I’m not. I won’t look like this forever. I’ll grow old, and frail, and weak.” I turned and looked up at him. “I’ll die. You’ll outlive me, like your brothers did their mates.”

His face contorted. “Will I still want you?” he rasped.

I nodded.

He took my face in his large hands. “You are the only female I will ever want, you have been since I first saw you. From now until the end of eternity, you will be my mate, whether you are in this world or the afterlife.” He brushed his thumbs over my cheeks. “You will always be perfect to me. You will always be my dove. Tell me you believe me? Because I never want to talk about you leaving me ever again, Willow. Never again.”

“But it will happen.”

He shook his head. “I can’t talk about that, can’t fucking think about it, Willow. Tell me you believe me? That you know I’ll always want you?”

“I believe you.” How could I doubt him?

He kissed me, his lips hard against mine, holding me to him for a long time.

Finally, we’d climbed out of the shower, and he was drying me when my phone rang.

I rushed into the bedroom, rummaging for it, and checked the screen. Ren. I hit the call button.

“Ren?” I knew it wasn’t him, or maybe the reason he kept calling was that a part of him was breaking through, trying desperately to reach out for me. Like Edric had sought out Warrick.

“Help me, Willow,” he said. “Oh god, please, help me.”

I gripped the phone tighter at the sound of his voice, tears filling my eyes. “Tell me where you are.” Had the spirit left him, had it moved to another host? “Ren?”

“Come get me, please…”

“Please, Ren, tell me where you are?”

“Help me! Help me!” he said again, only the voice had turned mocking, then he giggled.

“Why are you doing this? Let him go. Please, let him go!”

The sound of a horn blasted in the background, it was loud and long—and familiar.

There was more giggling, then he hung up.

I turned to Warrick. “I think I know where he is.”

Warrick snatched his jeans off the floor. “Let’s go.”

* * *

It was dark, fog thick and low as we hit the harbor. The smell of the ocean filled the air along with the smells of the city. There were two main areas down here: the thriving new harbor, where massive cargo ships berthed at the pier, and the old harbor, comprised of rundown warehouses and some original buildings that had been occupied by shipping companies back in the day. The new offices had been moved closer to one of the major trucking companies, and the original area had been left to rot.

Ren had been fascinated by the old buildings and their history. History had been his favorite subject at school, and he’d written a paper about this place and the families who started out here. I’d helped him with it. He’d gotten an A.

Maybe he was somehow getting through. Is that why he’d called? Had he been hoping I’d hear the foghorn? Maybe it had been Ren at the beginning of the call asking for help before the spirit took control again? Or had it just been a trap?

It was eerily quiet as we walked through the old shipping yard, where timber, drums, and pallets were left scattered around, and old shipping containers left to rust.