Desperate to save her, I lay her down on the cold floor. Coaxing the aether whirling around us into a blazing mass, I will it to become a healing light. I’m drawing up more aether than I ever have, and a quiet voice in the back of my mind whispers I shouldn’t be able to control this much magic, have never controlled this much magic, even here in Thayaria. But I ignore that voice and keep growing the orb of light at my fingertips. When I’ve channeled as much aether as my body can stand to hold, I slowly—so slowly—lower it over Laurel’s body, shaking with the strain of controlling it. I watch in awe as it spreads to cover her entire body. The light—my light—caresses her, lapping at her curves and face gently. When she’s fully wrapped in my light, I concentrate on the aether.

Fill her, I command.

For a moment, nothing happens. But then, with a brilliant flash, color returns to her cheeks and she takes in a gasp. I stumble, my magic draining out of me in a way I’ve never experienced before. But I don’t care, because she’s awake, and I scoop her up into my arms, squeezing her middle in elation even as I sway with burnout.

Hawthorne

The gods were angry with the fae. They decreed that, in punishment for their magical crimes, mates would be trapped on opposite sides of the world. Those fated for a mate bond would feel its absence their entire lives, not understanding the persistent ache they feel deep in the core of their magic.

The Legends of the Fae, Volume II

“Laurel,” I sob, holding her to me as tightly as I can. Her body molds to mine, head nestled perfectly under my chin. She relaxes into me, and I stroke her back in a gentle caress, whispering her name like it’s the lifeline that will tether her to this realm.

“What—how are you here?” she asks, almost dreamily.

“It’s a long story, and we have some things we’ll have to deal with when we’re back. But we can worry about that later.” I’m so relieved that I found her, that I saved her, that I nearly collapse over her body. I pull her closer, my lips grazing across her forehead gently. It’s the wrong move. She jerks away from me, and I nearly weep.

“Thorne,” she croaks.

I interrupt. “Laurel, please listen to me.” I grab her hand, trying to anchor her here and prevent her from leaving again.

“I can’t,” she says, tears gathering in her eyes. But she doesn’t release my hand. I grab her other hand, a silent promise that I won’t let her go this time. Staring into her captivating green eyes, I squeeze her soft skin.