Page 123 of Haunted Crowns
Eris gritted her teeth.
He pressed forward. “What are you protecting?”
Their swords locked as his gaze held hers. She inhaled sharply, something flickering behind her eyes as a memory began to rise.
Then she moved, faster and stronger. Her blade lashed toward him with purpose. “I fight for my people.”
Kareon’s mouth curled into a grim smile. “Who, Eris?”
His next strike rang out as steel slammed against steel. She staggered.
“I don’t know.” She was close. So close.
He struck again, relentless and precise, until her blade flew from her grip and clattered against the stone.
For a breath, everything stilled.
Then Kareon tossed his sword aside, letting it fall without hesitation. He closed the space between them in a heartbeat, seized her, and crashed his mouth to hers. The kiss burned, fierce and unrelenting. Both a claim and a challenge. One hand gripped her waist, anchoring her to him. The other tangled in her hair, pulling her closer as if the distance between them had never been bearable.
He held nothing back.
The kiss consumed her. It was raw, hungry, and impossibly alive. Heat slammed through her as her composure shattered. Her heart pounded, and her ribs trembled. She pushed him away, breath ragged and torn.
He stared at her, wild and steady. “Still lost, princess?” His voice was calm. Taunting.
Eris stepped back, hands trembling and breath uneven. “You bastard.”
Kareon only smiled. This time, he reached not for her lips, but for the truth. “Tell me. Who are you fighting for?”
She clutched her head as memories surged through her, burning with grief and fury.
His hand closed around her wrist, and the world cracked open. Wind howled through the void. The Hollow fractured.
She gasped, and the words escaped her. “For the Lycans. I fight for them.” Her voice rang out strong, carrying the weight of battle and belonging.
Kareon smiled again, darker this time. “Good. Then let’s go home.”
The world shifted, and the Hollow let go.
The Hollow stirred with slow, seismic weight. The monoliths trembled. The runes pulsed once, then flared as if something deep inside them screamed.
Eris arched as a violent jolt tore through her body. A ragged gasp escaped her lips, as if her soul had been dragged from drowning.
Stephan froze.
She was back.
Her eyes opened slowly. Her lungs strained. The weight of the in-between still clung to her skin like shadow.
For a moment, he could not move. He could not believe. Then something inside him broke. He reached for her and pulled her against his chest.
“Eris.” Her name left him like a prayer cracked open.
His hands gripped her cloak—too tight, too desperate—as if letting go might unmake her. He pressed his face into her hair and held her like she was breath itself.
Her breathing was shallow and uneven, but his warmth steadied her. She clung to him, fingers fisting into his shoulders, holding him like anchor and home.
“I’m back, Stephan.” Her voice shook. “It was cold. It was wrong.”
