Every trembled brush stroke that brought him to life chipped away at something fundamental inside me. The mere sight of him—the sight of what I’d never have and of what I might never see again—cracked something irreparable inside me.

But I couldn’t stop. Not until it was done. Not until that entity within had broken wide open.

Breathe, wildflower.

The carnage charged through each vein. It spasmed every muscle until the brush fell from my shaking fingers.

Until I was on my knees, my head thrown back with the force of its exit.

It erupted.

Tears flooded my eyes, my cheeks. Into fragments of screaming regret and fury, I exploded.

So did all of the glassware in the room.

Flying everywhere in dagger-sharp shards, it screamed with me. So loud the void to warp into didn’t just form—it grew into a wind-storm that blew out the flames in the sconces and the glass of the windows.

Shouting echoed through the void, but I was already slipping free and falling through the hole I’d somehow managed to create despite the potion I’d been tricked into drinking.

The door to the parlor crashed open, and I smiled as I disappeared before the eyes of our blurred guards.

Breathless, I fell to the floor before the gigantic bed in the small apartment of a wolf.

SIXTEEN

Aster

My ears rang. My vision clouded.

I blinked and rubbed my numb hands over my face, then winced when something sharp cut into my cheek.

Glass.

A piece was imbedded in the side of my palm. I pulled it free and barely felt the sting, nor the trickle of blood rolling through my fingers to the carpet as I placed my hands upon it and leaned forward.

I closed my eyes and willed my roaring heart to slow, the tears to cease falling.

Settled enough to see and think straight, I opened my eyes and allowed the echoing silence of the apartment to infiltrate. His scent was an instant balm and a toxin.

The door was closed.

The bed beside me was made with the same linens I’d spent countless nights dreaming of being entangled in. I pushed up to my knees and used the end of the bed to assist with rising on trembling legs. The kitchen nook looked untouched, just as it had been a year and a half ago.

I moved, striding to the empty bathing room and then back to the bed.

The only noticeable difference since telling its owner that I was married were the books. There were more. Some had been piled upon the dining table as though the wolf hadn’t had the time or inclination to find room for them within the already crowded shelves.

He wasn’t here.