Page 84 of Haunted Crowns
Eris, already dismounting, shot him a sidelong glance as she tied her mare to the usual post.
“You will be fine,” she said, voice light with mischief. “You are under my protection.”
Cassiel snorted. “Oh, perfect. I am sure if they decide to tear me apart, your glare alone will strike terror into their savage little hearts.”
Eris smirked, motioning for him to follow. “Stay behind me, keep quiet, and try not to smell like a challenge.”
He stopped mid-step. “Wait—what?”
She turned, deadly serious. “Lycans can smell fear, Cassiel.”
She let the silence hang a beat before adding, in a low, conspiratorial tone. “And they consider excessive sweating a sign of weakness.”
Cassiel’s jaw locked. “You are making that up.”
Eris shrugged and kept walking. “Am I?”
He dragged a hand down his face. “Perfect. I get to die humiliatedandsweaty.”
But he followed.
Ahead of them, the Den pulsed with life. The air was thick with pine, damp earth, and burning wood. Eris inhaled deeply, letting it settle in her lungs, stirring something ancient in her bones.
It wasn’t just familiarity. It was recognition, as if the land itself called to her.
Whispers in a voice older than memory.
Each step eased the weight she’d carried since yesterday. After Stephan, after the fear and the shame, this place didn’t just steady her. It mended something. The pain was still there, but it no longer owned her.
Then came the shout: “She’s back! She’s back!”
Urgent footsteps pounded through the clearing. The words leapt from voice to voice like wildfire.
Laughter followed, swelling in waves. Pack voices, raw with relief and joy. Eris moved through them, smiling, embracing.
Then came a heartbeat. It was not hers. It belonged to something else. Not sound, but force, cracking violently through her like lightning. It struck beneath her ribs and expanded, vibrating through bone and breath, silencing the world in a single, consuming pulse.
Her laughter died. She stood still, chest rising and falling, as if something ancient had awakened inside her. Then her gaze lifted. The crowd parted. And she saw him.
Kareon stood across the Den, still as stone, the air around him trembling. His eyes locked on hers with something like reverence, as if he had felt it too.
Then the bond snapped into place. Her awareness blurred—she felt her breath, her pulse—but it was like standing just outside herself. She didn’t choose to move; she simply did. One step. Then another.
The crowd vanished. The world dulled to an echo. Her body—her soul—had already chosen, drawn to him like water to its riverbed.
By the time her mind caught up, she stood inches from him. The air between them sparked, magnetic. Sacred. His eyes, ancient and golden, held her fast.
She could not look away.
For a moment, nothing else existed. She was still herself, but not only herself. Her hands trembled and her lungs tightened. Her mind fought for control, but her soul had already reached his. Then she blinked, her head tilting as the spell slipped like fog lifting off a lake. Bit by bit, the Den returned to her senses: murmurs, fire crackle, the rhythm of lives continuing. But something inside her had changed.
What was that?
The thought dissolved before she could name it.
He stood before her, real and whole. Gods, how she had missed him. She smiled, radiant, with a warmth that asked for nothing and offered everything.
His lips curled in return, reverent, like worship. Then she stepped into his arms, and he folded her in like a man made whole.
