Page 30 of King’s Kismet

Months had gone by since the druid left without a word of goodbye.

No see you later.

No it’s me, not you.

No fuck you, I’m done…

He was just gone.

Sloane had spent the last dozen or so weeks looking for him, first to confront him and gain closure… Then to kill him for breaking her fragile heart. She had hired private investigators and tapped into his phone records and gone through his laptop.

But there was nothing to be found.

Everything was wiped clean.

Jack was still looking for the druid, though we’d had no solid leads to follow. He had put in an exhausting amount of effort and had no rewards to show for it.

Every day that dwindled by was a terrifying experience where we didn’t know what to expect from Sloane.

Would the bomb inside her blow?

Would she crumble to the floor and sob?

We were doing the best we could to console her, but her pain was too great. It was something she had never experienced.

I had, though. I knew the pain of heartache, the emptiness that accompanied the loneliness of being left with no explanation, with no argument, no accusations of my wrongs.

The difference was I knew where I’d gone wrong in my failed human marriage. And there was no fated bond in place.

On the outside, everything seemed glorious between Sloane and York. They were head over heels for each other. The druid worshiped the ground she walked on.

I leaned against the closet entrance, watching her yank his shirts from the velvet-coated hangers. She used so much force they snapped under the pressure, bits pinging off the wall and floor, turning into plastic shrapnel. I winced as a piece of the hanger ricocheted toward her, striking her face and slicing her cheek open.

Blood mixed with her tears, dripping off her chin and onto the floor, though she didn’t seem to notice. The pain fueled her, energized her to keep going, to speed up… To finish removing all traces of the druid from her life.

“Sloane,” I murmured, stepping in front of her.

She glared at me, anger surging through her, blazing in her red-rimmed eyes. Because how dare I stand in her way?

“Lo. You have to stop this. You’re hurting yourself,” I whispered, rubbing my thumb across the gash in her cheek to rush the healing.

“I need it gone, Grim. I can’t—” She stopped, a strangled sob lodged in her throat that she refused to surrender to.

I pulled her into my arms, hugging her to my chest. She wasn’t the most touchy person I’d ever met, and usually she would push away... But not today.

The dam she had been fortifying broke with a choked gasp, and I sank to the floor with her, rocking back and forth as she sobbed. Her hand twisted into my t-shirt as if she wanted to pull me closer and push me away at the same time, but she simply froze as her body shook.

Jack and Dolyn rounded the corner into her bedroom, stopping short when they saw her. The incubus frowned, rubbing his hand over his head as her pain and loathing filled the air. The hellsteed dropped to his knees, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

While Dolyn could sense the emotions in the room, Jack felt everything Sloane was feeling. They were an endless loop, their mental connection too strong for her to hide everything. And at this moment, she was too broken to block any of it.

Her pain hit Jack like a tidal wave, sweeping him off his foundation, leaving him unable to process or comfort or speak.

I ran my right hand through her hair as I stroked her back with my left.

“You will breathe again,” I promised her. “And laugh and smile. You will pick yourself up off the ground and feel like you again. But it takes time, Lo, and you won’t be quite the same after you climb out of this darkness.”

She gasped for air, though she didn’t reply as she fought to stop her sobs.