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They were portals, and it caused other demons to come near, though not close enough to be a threat. Your soul was calling for him so desperately that even I couldn’t repress its search. If I moved us each time to reduce the risk, it would keep you from sleep, and you must sleep. Your soul is gravely injured.

My eyes open and I touch the rough patchwork of scars along my sternum and the dark line of corruption that mars it. “Will it heal?”

As much as any wound will. It depends on the severity, and care during healing. If you rest, the wound will at least stop reopening.

I wet my lips and try again. “But what if they need to find something within the bookshop, something only I know the location of? I could help them.”

They’re clever enough. They will figure it out.

I suck in breath and whisper the truth into Jinx’s embrace. “But what if they fail?”

Jinx constricts around me, and I go lax in the comfort. Not every man in your life will eventually betray or disappoint you. Trust in them, Tori.

My knees pull tighter to my chest, and I hide my face in them. “It’s hard. I’ve been hurt so badly.”

Trust my judgement, then. I have faith that the two of them will make it through. Now, rest.

I smile, and a pressure along my cranium weighs on me like Jinx is sleeping on top of my pillow within my loft. My heart pulses in time with Jinx’s purring, and I slip back into the deep healing sleep that will knit my broken pieces back together.

CHAPTER 17

BAUER ESTATE, PRESERVATION DOMAIN, ASTRUM FOREST

VALEN

Astoria doesn’t have the capacity to love after all the damage done to her.

My hand spasms, and I soundlessly snarl at the quaver in my chalked line. I wipe away the ruined sigil from my workroom’s slate floor. Alasdair’s words echoing through my head are no longer sounding like his voice, but a whisper of my own mind. The only way I know that it’s not truly my own thoughts is the very real fact that Astoria does love. She just doesn’t love me like she loves Lucas.

The pain breaks through the calming draft I took earlier and nearly robs me of my senses, my breathing speeding with my heart. A storm of emotions clashes within me. Bitterness. Anger. Betrayal. And shame. Astoria made her choice perfectly clear when I asked her to return with me. This pain is my own fault. I’m a damn fool for not fully accepting this simple fact.

Air eludes me, and I work harder and harder to suck in a full breath, but when I do, Lucas’ lingering scent on my skin fills my lungs. My throat aches, and I cannot pretend I’m not affected by our moment together.

Oh, Valentin. Has the ice in your heart thawed for another?

A tremble quakes my jaw and I grit my teeth. Get out of my head.

I’ve made a horrible mistake. I should never have given in to temptation with the magician. This pain in my chest throbs, refusing to go away. It keeps making my hands tremble when I need them steady to draw the teleportation circle to get us into Astoria’s loft. My attention drifts from the sigils to the man invading my private workroom before I snatch it back.

Within this space I call my own, the walls are covered with shelving, cabinets, and brewing tools. The bookshelves are packed with stained diaries, tomes, and encyclopedias detailing the healing arts. After all, a good potion master’s craft manuscripts are never immaculate.

I pushed back all the worktables and caldrons to access the smooth slate flooring. Using the family’s circle in the jacaranda grove doesn’t suit my purpose today. I have too many modifications and specializations to find it useful.

I shake out my unsteady hand and redraw the rune before Lucas notices anything amiss. Luckily, he’s too distracted playing with the weaponry he pilfered from the Bauer armory. A large black blade is strapped to his back along his spine that is as flexible as he is when sheathed so that it does not hinder movement. Fingerless gloves keep his rings exposed while small rune-etched crystals plate the knuckles that preserve the hands during impact. The right pressure will trigger a detonation, and he practically demolished the training room practicing.

With a slow breath, I attempt to regain my composure. I can’t let him see me like this. I can’t let this building bitterness shift towards him. This human thief, who stole my beloved’s heart and soul.

I squeeze my eyes shut. A shiver courses through me, leaving me far too pale and clammy. Damn, Alasdair. I won’t permit him to poison me against the man who has done nothing but try to comfort me. This is not Lucas’ fault.

I suck in breath, and my eyes snap open. Losing control over myself will serve no one and will leave me feeling even more like a damn fool than I already am.

Now that I’ve completed the base of the circle, I pull my mother’s hovering diary closer. I scan the passage once more before summoning a marble mortar and pestle. My pallet of fragmented limestone shakes and a sliver frees itself to glide through the air. It plops into the mortar as I ease to standing from my kneeling position. I take the mortar and pestle from where they hover and begin to break the stone down into a powder.

Lucas is pacing around the perimeter of my circle, tempting my focus away from my task. I grind my teeth, and my magic chills the room unbidden. He’s going to notice something wrong with me at this rate. I need to focus. Being torn apart by traveling via an improper circle would be the icing on this shit cake I’ve gotten myself into.

The soft hiss of the black blade slicing through the air has my gaze flicking to him again. He’s mastered withdrawing the sword without rasping the blade along the sheath and is now spinning the long handle over his wrists to occupy himself. His honey eyes meet mine, and my heart skips.

What an inconvenient reaction.