“Do you want to try another lie and tell me you didn’t hear me calling to you in the abyss?” he asked bitterly.

Jaenelle’s hands curled into fists. “Yes, I heard you. How could I not hear you? Begging. Pleading. I could feel you breaking under the pain.”

“So you rose out of the healing webs too soon and then discovered the flesh was barely able to survive despite how much healing had already been done.”

“Yes, I rose too soon—and then there was no going back. After that, the healing had to be done from within—and done in a way that only I had the skill to do. But it wasn’t just you, Daemon. Did you think you were the only voice calling to me, pleading with me to come back? You were one voice among hundreds. All of them wanting me to return. I could feel Lucivar’s and Saetan’s yearning, the coven’s grief, the boyos fear that, without me there as a connection for all of them, the Shadow Realm would splinter again, that most of the kindred would retreat from human contact again. And the kindred ... They didn’t want to let go of the dream either, and they held on with everything in them. All of you calling, pleading, hoping that love could do what shouldn’t have been possible. Hell’s fire, Daemon. I’m a Healer. I know better than you ever will what happened to this flesh when I got hit with the backlash of power still left in those webs I’d created. I knew the healing would be hideous and painful, and that after everything was done that could be done, I might not have anything better than a shell that would exist but never really be able to live.” Jaenelle’s eyes filled with tears. “But sometimes,” she added, her voice breaking, “love is worth whatever price must be paid.”

Daemon turned away. He should have felt relieved that it wasn’t his fault—at least, not his alone. But her words had numbed him. No pain now, no anger. Nothing. “So you loved them enough to come back.”

A long silence. Then Jaenelle said, “No. I came back for you.”

He looked at her, not quite trusting enough to hope . . . or believe. But the emotional pain in her eyes now was more devastating than any physical suffering he’d seen.

“I came back for you,” Jaenelle said, tears streaming down her face. “Because you were worth the price.”

His heart ached as emotions flooded him. Pain. Pleasure. And the love. Oh, yes, the love. “Jaenelle.” His legs trembled as he took the few steps that separated them. He raised his hand, intending to brush away the tears, but he was still afraid to touch her.