Chapter 42

After a few more hours of aimless wandering, we choose to rest for the night.

Logan hands me a wrapped sandwich from his backpack and an apple, but I barely taste the food as it goes down my throat. I could be eating dirt for all I care.

The pain from before is beginning to seep into my bloodstream, permeating my very soul. I’m afraid to even speak, as if one word will be the catalyst that sends me careening over the ravine.

When I bring a water bottle up to my lips to take a sip, my hand shakes wildly, the water sloshing over the sides. And though it’s cold from a spell Damien placed on it before we entered the Labyrinth, it burns my throat. I don’t even argue when Logan places something tiny and square in my hand. A prenatal vitamin. Bronson must’ve packed them for me, my overprotective, growly wolf shifter.

I begin to smile when I think of him, envisioning the fierce glint always present in his eyes, but the smile wavers when another flood of pain bombards me. My entire body begins to shake, and all I want to do is curl into a ball on the ground, cry my eyes out, and never get back up.

But I can’t.

My mates need me.

My baby needs me.

And…

Another shuddering breath leaves my parted lips.

And Kai needs me to be strong.

That revelation settles like a huge block of coal in my stomach, and I rub a hand absently at my chest, almost as if I can stop my heart from leaping out from beneath my rib cage and splattering on the ground.

Logan clears his throat from where he sits on the other side of the cackling fire. Absently, I turn my gaze in his general direction. It’s something I always do, strangely enough. It’s almost as if I fear the person I’m talking to will feel uncomfortable if I don’t maintain direct eye contact. On the contrary, I have a feeling I unnerve people more when I do maintain eye contact, because my eyes aren’t exactly the most pleasant to stare into.

“I thought I was in love once,” Logan begins, his tone almost conversational. But there’s an edge to it that wasn’t there prior. The glint of a blade seconds before it plunges into your heart.

“Oh?” I can tell what he’s trying to do—distract me—but my heart gives a painful tug at the thought of Logan in love. There’s a certain wistfulness to his voice, and I can’t help but wonder whom he’s thinking about.

“Amanda,” he begins with a hoarse laugh, answering my unspoken question. There’s a brief pause, followed by the crunch of an apple. “Met her in…high school? I think?” His voice rises in pitch as he considers before he finally concludes, “Yes, high school. Senior year. She was beautiful—flowing blonde hair, big green eyes, perfect smile. Cheerleader.”

“And let me guess,” I begin, remembering some of the romantic comedies I watched with Abel. “You were the quarterback?”

He chuckles. “Nah. Not athletic enough. I was just the pretty boy in all of her classes.” Self-deprecation enters his tone, but before I can comment on it, he forges ahead. “Anyway, I asked her out at the beginning of the year, she said yes, and we began dating shortly after.”

“And you loved her,” I point out, trying to ignore the slithering snakes of jealousy taking up residence in my stomach. Why does the thought of Logan being in love with another woman bother me immensely, even though that woman is a part of his past?

“Thought I loved her,” Logan corrects immediately. Another chuckle. Another snort of self-loathing. Another heavy, loaded sigh. “You’re missing the point of the story, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry. Go on.”

“We continued dating into college, and I remember thinking, ‘Wow, this girl is perfect. She’s the one for me.’”

I shift uncomfortably, trying to ignore the burning stab of pain twisting up my insides. I know Logan is trying to distract me, but I’m only falling deeper and deeper into a dark pit I’m not certain I can escape from. A pit where my monsters crawl up the walls with gaping maws and glowing red eyes, just waiting to devour me whole.

“Once, we were in the school’s cafeteria, and I noticed my girl smiling. Like, a huge fucking smile, unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. It made her eyes fucking sparkle, as cliché as that sounds,” he continues. “But then I realized…she wasn’t looking at me. She was looking over my shoulder at Ross Vandergoosh, the college football star.”

“Oh no.” I place both of my hands over my mouth in horror as Logan chuckles humorlessly.

“Oh yeah. And the kicker? No pun intended. He was staring back at her.” He pauses, and I hear the sound of him chewing his apple, seemingly deep in thought. For a moment, I don’t think he’s going to continue, but when he speaks next, his voice is subdued, weary. “I had the grand epiphany of grand epiphanies that day. Amanda? She never smiled at me like that. And I never smiled at her like that either. I thought I loved her, because in my mind, she was beautiful and perfect. But perfect is this abstract construct that we’re not entirely capable of grasping. At least…not until you come face to face with it. I confronted Amanda, and she promised that she never cheated on me, and I believed her. But I also knew that it wasn’t me she was thinking about when I took her to bed. We broke up that day, and only a few weeks later, Amanda and Ross were together. Happier than ever.” He scoffs, and another long stretch of silence ensues. I wonder what he’s thinking about. Or whom he’s thinking about. Is his mind focused on the girl who broke his heart? Who smiled at a man who wasn’t him?

“Have you…?” I tentatively bring my water bottle back to my lips, struggling to articulate my thoughts. “Have you found someone to smile at?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know…the way Amanda smiled at Ross. Have you found someone?”

His silky voice is low and uncharacteristically serious. “Yes, I believe I have.”

I want to ask him more questions about this mysterious man or woman who’s captured his heart, but my body takes that moment to give in to my fatigue. A loud yawn cracks my jaw as I arch my back like a house cat. Like…Rion.

Another pang of yearning and sadness ricochets through me. All of the walls I constructed around myself shatter into dust, lying at my feet while all I can do is stare despondently at the remains.

“I think it’s about time to go to bed,” Logan murmurs. “Sleep, Nina. I’ll stand guard. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

I want to protest, to tell him that if I fall asleep now, I’ll be plagued by vicious nightmares. That I can already feel my soul shaking in the beginning stages of an earthquake, just waiting to crack entirely in two.

But I’m exhausted. And broken. And so, so empty.

I curl into a ball on the ground, using his backpack as a pillow, and wait for sleep to claim me.

If Logan hears the desperate sounds I make as the pain consumes me, he doesn’t comment.

If he’s aware that I’m sobbing my heart out, he doesn’t say anything.

He simply allows me to fall apart under the safety of his gaze as I mourn my mate, my first friend, the first man I ever truly loved.

Kai…

I’m distantly aware of Logan covering me with a blanket from his bag, but even the warmth from it doesn’t stop the desperate shivers from taking over my body.

Kai. Kai. Kai. Kai.

I’m so sorry.

I love you.

Kai.

His smiling face—I wonder if he smiled at me the way Amanda smiled at Ross—is the last thing I see before unconsciousness mercifully consumes me.

Surprisingly enough,my nightmares don’t include Kai’s face.

Instead, I’m faced with the endless, relentless darkness I’ve grown to associate with Nick, the enigma I can’t quite figure out.

There’s no pain here, no grief, only a tranquility that takes my breath away. A sigh escapes me as I stand suspended in nothingness, my bare feet seemingly floating above the ground. Or maybe they’re touching the ground, but it’s made of soft, wispy clouds.

I release another breath of air, tilting my face up as if the darkness contains a sun that beats down on my skin. But there’s no heat here. No cold, either. The weather can best be described as tepid, comfortable enough to endure in only a thin, white dress.

“I do not like it when you cry,” a soft, melodic voice says, seemingly coming from directly behind me. No, wait. In front of me. No…to the side of me.

Everywhere.

It comes from every direction, bouncing off the walls and creating a nest around my body.

“Where am I?” I ask in a detached, emotionless voice. There’s no pain in this other place, no anger or hurt or fear.

But there’s also no joy.

“Everywhere.” The barest of breaths caresses my ear, and I swivel in his direction.

“I’m no longer sad,” I continue, absently bringing my hand up to rub at my chest. I know that the second I wake up, the second this illusion dissipates, I’ll be bombarded by my feelings again. By the stomach-churning pain that makes vomit crawl up my throat. By the shaking of my legs that threatens to send me toppling over. By the erratic thump-thump-thump of my heart as the organ breaks through my chest, splattering on the ground.

Because pain? There’s no expiration date. It doesn’t go away when you desire it to. It’s like the gentle splatter of rain on the roiling, turbulent ocean. Each individual raindrop is so tiny, so insignificant, when looked at separately. When combined, they have the capacity to completely transform the ocean, to create ripples in its tranquil depths. To call upon the fiercest of waves capable of devouring shorelines. Sometimes, it pours for days, while other times, there’s an endless drought with clear skies and no clouds in sight. But the rain will always come back. It’s inevitable, just like grief. Just like pain.

And my pain…

It continues to pile up. Never stopping.

Always falling like rain on the ocean.

And though I should be relieved that I have a break from it, a momentary pause from the relentless torture, a part of me wants to mourn Kai. Wants to remember the way he loved me, how he died for me. Wants to hold his memory as tightly as I can, refusing to release it.

“You are in my world,” Nick explains, and I feel the gentle swipe of his finger down my cheek. “My creation. I do not want you to feel sad. I am…I am sorry about your dragon, but I am certain he will find his way to you again.”

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

There’s a presence scratching at my chest, demanding to claw its way free.

Is it my pain trying to escape? My anger? My fear? A combination of all three of them? And when they finally escape, finally break free of the shackles Nick has imposed on them, will they rip me open to the point of no return?

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

“The door is near, little one,” Nick continues in that soothing, silky voice of his. It reminds me of the butterscotch candies Kai used to?—

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

“Just keep moving straight. I will do what I can to lead you there.”

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

“Just…just leave me alone.” I don’t raise my voice, but then again, I don’t have to. It’s so silent in this suspended nothingness that I could’ve been screaming. My words shoot through the air like a gun being fired.

I can feel Nick’s body behind me, the heat he emits almost palpable, as his hands land on my shoulders and his mouth touches my ear. “I am afraid I cannot, little one.”

“Why?” Still monotone. Still impassive.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

“Because you are my mate,” Nick responds candidly. And then, “Wake up, little one.”

Wake up.