Page 143 of Ashen Souls

Lying beside Ethan, I just wanted time to stop. The tension had completely drained from my body, leaving behind a quiet I hadn't felt in months. My head was clear of intrusive thoughts, and I wanted nothing to change, longing only to stay wrapped in his arms.

Outside, the rain was still falling. His chest pressed against my back, its heat keeping me warm, and while I ached to turn around, see his calm, sleeping face, touch his hair, and kiss his mouth, I didn’t dare to move a single muscle, terrified of doing anything to break the moment.

Eventually, all my thoughts dissolved.

I had no idea how long I slept. It could have been hours or minutes. One moment I was buried in Ethan's warmth, and the next, the dark tore it away.

It didn’t blur like an ordinary nightmare. It struck with the brutal clarity of a vision.

Daeren was standing right in front of me. And I was me. Not Avelia, not an echo of the past. Just me. But the man looking down at me wasn’t the arrogant, immortal demon who had haunted me. His dominance, his obsession, the predatory passion—it was all gone.

In his expression, there was only despair and the stark realization that this was the end.

His hands were slick with dark blood, pressing uselessly against a massive wound in his chest.

His knees gave out. He hit the ground hard, and I dropped with him, my hands catching his shoulders to brace his fall before he could collapse completely. I pulled him into my lap. The molten fire that always pulsed beneath his skin was already dying, fading into a cold, bloodless gray.

He looked up at me one last time. His ember-bright eyes were cloudy and flickering, dimming until there was nothing left but sightless glass.

I sat there in the dark, his blood soaking through my clothes, feeling the exact second the life emptied out of him.

I jolted awake, my heart battering against my ribs as I gasped for a breath that wouldn't come.

My hands felt slick. Warm. I rubbed my fingertips together, the sticky friction making my stomach drop. I pulled them up, squinting in the gloom filtering through the window.

Blood.

I twisted, scanning Ethan’s sleeping form, terrified he was hurt. But there was not a single scratch on him. I looked down at my own body. Nothing. It wasn’t my blood. It wasn't Ethan's.

It was Daeren's.

I clamped a hand over my left arm, biting the inside of my cheek until I tasted copper to keep from screaming. The sigil was still there, searing my skin like a brand pressed straight to the bone.

By some miracle, I didn't wake Ethan. He was still holding me, his nose pressed gently against the curve of my neck.

I stared blankly at the ceiling, forcing my muscles to stop shaking.

I thought he was immortal? How could I have just watched him die? Why now?

It hadn’t happened yet. It wasn't just a nightmare. The burning sigil proved he was still alive. I had just seen the future.

I hated Daeren. I wanted the sigil gone. I wanted him out of my life. But I didn't want him dead, even if his death might have brought me freedom.

He had saved my life. Whatever twisted, selfish reasons he had for doing it, I was only breathing right now because of him.

I owed him. Just this once.

I had to warn him.

Holding my breath, I slid out from under Ethan’s heavy arm. I froze, watching him sleep. He didn’t stir.

Moving like a ghost, I slipped into the bathroom and scrubbed the blood from my hands under the cold tap. When I returned to the bedroom, Ethan had rolled onto his side, but his breathing remained deep and even.

Snatching my T-shirt and shorts off the floor, I yanked them on.

I crossed the room, easing the bottom drawer of the dresser open. I dug past my clothes until my fingers brushed the small velvet box hidden in the back.

I flipped the lid open. The obsidian ring sat inside. It was the last thing I wanted to touch, but it was the only way to bridge the distance. I picked it up and shoved it onto my finger.