Roark finally pushes to a sitting position, rubbing the part of his head that hit the ice the hardest. He blinks rapidly, his expression morphing from one of pure rage to an inexplicable longing, softening the corners of his eyes as an invisible thread tugs at the corner of his mouth.

He goes to her just as the others and is welcomed just as wholeheartedly. And I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help but look toward Kaebl. He’s frozen in place, golden eyes swirling with a torturous emotion as he watches the soul pieces reconnect with Dagny.

With great pain, he tears his gaze away from her and turns it to me. For the first time in my life, I think I feel sorry for you.

I shake my head with a scoff, though his words cause a throbbing ache to emanate from the deep cavern in my chest. “I don’t need your pity.”

No. I suppose you don’t. He turns his head slowly, focusing on the four embracing figures once more. Hers, then.

“Sure. But I’d rather have her heart.”

Kaebl nods, his eyes never leaving his would-be mate, never blinking. Hearts are strange things. If it beats and screams and aches, is it love? Or is it a disease? Affection or affliction? He shrugs, his gaze unmoving. Perhaps it’s both. Maybe it’s nothing. Perhaps it’s everything.

My throat tightens as I follow his line of sight, throbbing agony spreading from that hollow pit as I lay eyes on my mate.

There’s only one way to find out which it is.

16. Dagny

16

Dagny

The warmth thrumming down the bond has my toes curling, my adrenaline spiking, and my head swimming.

But all of it fades away as a deep, arousing voice breaks out from the center of the clearing. I poke my head under Lir’s bicep, a frown pinching my lips and a hateful glare directed at the irritatingly gorgeous, red-eyed demon.

“We need to get off ground level,” Malice repeats, tone laced with irritation. “Preferably before the sun flips.”

“Why?”

As if in answer, a rhythmic clicking noise echoes from deep within the forest, low-toned and thudding, like a heartbeat. The sound vibrates through the air, raising the hair on the back of my neck as a million tiny spiders wriggle beneath my skin, scrambling to get out.

“What the fuck is that?” I whisper, clinging to Lir as my eyes scan the shadows. “What the fuck was that?”

“Arachnyx,” Malice deadpans. “Just one, but the fact it’s awake this early means it’s already smelled us.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat, my tongue like sandpaper as I ask, “How do we get off ground level, again?”