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Saltwater flooded my mouth.

The mausoleum returned around me in a violent flash. I fell onto my hands and knees and water poured from my mouth onto the marble. Della shrieked and drove her claws into my shoulder. I tried to reach for her, but another convulsion tore through me.

Refusing to summon Dominique had not stopped the transformation. My desire was still feeding the power inside me. If I didn’t stop it, the part of me capable of loving Yves and Adrien would disappear, and I’d become pure want.

A demon.

Dominique was right. I was going to drown in my desire, right here.

The black privacy ward covering the gate shuddered. Yves. The old iron hinges screamed as he tried to force it open, and the stone around the gate cracked under the force.

Mama’s ghost knelt across from me and once again she held out her hands. Palms open.

“Fuck you and your hands,” I choked out. Tears streamed down my face. Another gush of water poured from my mouth. The gesture reminded me of what I needed to do. I needed to release my fear around the desire Dominique was using against me.

I was afraid of having another family and then losing them, but no matter what, I would. Whether it was because Adrien grew up and stopped needing me, or Yves’s mate bond was rekindled, or because of my own mortal death. I could love them and still lose them. I had to accept that, but it was hard. So, so hard after experiencing so much loss.

I pressed both palms against the floor. Six generations of witches had been interred beneath the mausoleum. “I need your help, sisters. Please. I need you to help me release this fear.”

Translucent fingers rose from the stone floor, ghosts of women I’d never met, but who all knew the allure of desire. They grabbed onto my ankles, my wrists, my skirts, and held me in place as I battled through the emotions, trying to release them before I spiraled out of control.

The excess magick rushed down my arms, through my palms, and sank into the earth. Every candle extinguished at once.

Smoke whispered through the mausoleum. I closed my eyes and forced myself to release the breath trapped in my lungs. I had done it. I had retained the magick that my body could safely hold and given the rest to the dead. The second heartbeat was gone.

My throat was raw, and the terrible taste of saltwater lingered in my mouth. The ritual boundary dissolved, and Yves was at my side in an instant. He dropped to his knees beside me and caught my face between his hands.

“You’re alive.” His eyes roved over me, searching for injuries. “Thank the gods. You’re alive.”

His hands were shaking harder than mine.

Yves Allard, the vampire prince, was shaking because he was worried I might die.

I gripped his wrists to steady him. To ground him. I studied every inch of him. The turn of his lips, the creases around his eyes, and the way he was looking at me like he never wanted to lose me. And for the first time, I could admit to myself that I yearned for him, too. Not just his body. But him.

Slowly, I leaned in, a fraction at a time, my heart beating wildly in my chest. I kept bracing for the moment he would pull away, but I didn’t let it stop me. I kept leaning in until our lips gently brushed together. Sensations I’d never felt before traveled through my body, like a very different kind of magick.

I drew in a shuddering breath against his mouth. Yves went completely still before whispering my name, broken and ragged. “Cora.” Even though I told him to never beg for me again, I heard the plea in his voice.

I wet my lips and pressed my mouth against his a second time. He answered, pressing his against mine too. He tasted like hope and long nights on a balcony and a dream I could only dare to dream. It lasted for only a second before I pulled back.

Yves leaned in, ready to kiss me again, but I shook my head. It was all I could give him. At least, for now. Instead of looking disappointed, his hands slid into my hair, and he rested his forehead against mine.

“I told you,” he whispered.

“Told me what?”

“You’re not driftwood.”

“You keep saying that.”

His fingers tightened in my hair. “Do you believe me?”

Over his shoulder, I watched Mama open her burned hands one final time, then vanish.

“Maybe,” I replied.

Yves smiled in response, but I couldn’t make myself return the gesture. I had spent so long insisting I was driftwood because driftwood belonged to no one and had nothing to lose. Tonight, Dominique had seen the truth at the same moment I had.