“Hecate,” I mutter. “Goddess Hec—”
A pinpoint of burning light traces the outline of the emblem, rendering me speechless for a moment. Once the light completes its circuit, the cover loosens from its pages as if the book has taken a small breath and released itself to be opened. I reach for the cover’s edge, eager to explore the contents of this already mesmerizing tome.
The pages, filled with combinations of symbols and words that glow as my fingers pass over them, is a golden sustenance I’ve never taken in before. It’s as if a higher power took my bond with Maximus and translated it into chants and sounds and symbols that only I can understand.
I’m so busy marveling at the book and the energy coming off its pages that I barely hear my name. I falter for a second, certain it’s my mind playing fantastical tricks on me. But I breathe deeply, borrowing from the strength that my veins draw in from the book.
“Kara.”
But there it is again, rough as rustled leaves but steadier than the oak they fell from—effectively reducing me to the texture of a sapling. Even in the space I’ve found out of sheer instinct, I need just a few minutes of solace before trying to deal yet again with my new reality.
No. Not total instinct. The library beckoned as if I’d been by it a thousand times instead of a couple. It called as if I were meant to be here. It spoke to me just as the book has, making me forget where I am and why I even escaped in here…
Until now.
I look back up, expecting the horror of hell to press back down on me.
But instead see only beauty.
Even in the far corner of all the disheveled chaos, there’s new light and mighty magnificence…
Because the room is filled with the glory of him.
I tremble and can’t control it. I tear up again, and that’s even more impossible to stop. Still, I’m certain that I must be dreaming again…
Until Maximus starts to stride over.
And I shake harder, as his every step cannon blasts along the walls.
Until he gets even closer.
And I breathe like some Victorian maid getting ready to pass out in her stupid corset.
It gets even worse as he pushes into the puddle of light that defines my little corner. I can see the cobalt rings of his irises again. I can smell him, so rugged and masculine and yet earthy and stormy, but I still don’t trust that storm. This can’t be real. This can’t be…
But then there are the details I can’t overlook. Through the wide gashes in his shirt, I gawk at his bloody and broken skin. Though there’s a lot of pink, freshly healed wounds, it’s simple to see that a beast tried to rip him apart.
Perhaps a monster with more than one head.
A predator he faced, along with so many other dark creatures and trials and storms, just for the chance to be here next to me again.
I know it now as truth.
Because I feel it from him as fact. As such a glaring refrain from his soul that I practically read it in the air as text. It’s irreversible. Unmistakable.
I know him now. I feel him now. I experience every one of his vibrations—a mix of such potent need and endless euphoria, clipped at the end by that self-imposed control, that I can trust the moment in full now. I can open my heart to it. Especially as he clears the last step between us.
And I’m suddenly, finally, swept up into his perfect hold. Crushed tightly along his massive body. Wrapped in a shower of light and sparks and energy, possible only from the miracle of finally holding him again. Connecting with him. Rejoicing in the fusion of our energies and the light of our love, until it feels like time itself has halted…
Until, with the sweep of his kiss, it does.
I cling to him harder as I open for him wider, sighing as our tongues mix and our breaths meld. My blood heats as I feel his pulse, the very beats of our bodies matching each other. Aligning with our perfect fire. Our inexplicable electricity. The fusion that I experience with nobody but him. The connection that is ours alone, undeniable and impenetrable.
Except…not.
I pull away, sobbing in a flood of shame. I don’t know how to tell him about what’s happened with Hades, but it’s worse to think about keeping it from him. I dip my head, doubling the motion as a desperate sort of prayer. Perhaps Maximus will understand, having been the first one to have the god tromping through his head. But what if he doesn’t?
“Kara? Hey, look at me. It’s really me this time, sweetheart. I promise you.”
“I know.”
I blurt it quickly, realizing how severely our time is surely limited. We have to make every second count.
“Then talk to me, beautiful.” It’s a command despite his velvety murmur. He cups the sides of my face and peers deeply into my eyes.
I want to just abandon everything and take long swims in those lush blue fathoms. I want to take permanent shelter in the strong surety of his hold. I yearn to do so many things that won’t fit into the short moments we have. I must force myself to face the truth and recall all its awful detail.
“Hades… He…”
“What?” So much for the soft fabric of his tone. His words are as fierce as the new glints in his eyes and the indents at the corners of his mouth. “What did he do, Kara?”
“He…got in.” I touch my forehead, hoping that’s enough to convey my full meaning. Saying all the words feels like a massive impossibility right now. “I didn’t want him to,” I say with frantic desperation. “I fought him; I fought so hard…but then I fell asleep, and I had a dream that felt so—”
“Real.” Just like that, his violence vanishes. His energy is different yet wonderfully familiar. I recognize it from a reality that feels so long ago. It’s the way he gets in class, stroking his used copy of The Divine Comedy to the point that every female in the building suddenly wants to be old, leathery, and full of medieval poetry. I get it now because I’m at the center of that quiet but intense thought process. And it’s already that addicting.
Still, I manage to murmur back, “Yes. Real. How did you—”
“Because it was my dream too.”
My heartbeat thrashes. My gaze flares. His gaze rivets me harder as he rubs a thumb along my cheek. “I was there, right along with you. Somehow, I was able to see you…dressed in this thing”—he glances down, obviously unhappier about Hades’s choice of wardrobe for me than I am—“until you got up from that big bed, and then—”
“Walked over to you, on that red lounger,” I finish in an astonished rush. “That couch… I hadn’t seen it in my room before…”
“Probably because it wasn’t,” he offers. “It was part of the room I was in.”
“And where were you?”
I don’t want to be so enthralled and curious, especially since it’s a dangerous way of avoiding my true terror about this whole nightmare, but if I can’t indulge it now, in the shelter of his arms, I also lose out. If, by some strange gift of the cosmos, we survive all this, I have to be able to remember it all.
A gift of the cosmos…that might have just been bestowed in the form of the book I found in the corner.
But at the moment, all of that is still just a few pages of nonsense to be stored at the back of my mind. All that matters now is Maximus and the few seconds we have left in this beautiful bubble.