The first time the power moves on its own, I’m dreaming of him.
The forest is dark, heavy with mist. I know this place even though it’s all blurred edges and half-remembered paths—it’s the trail I took when I left Crescent Crest. The air tastes like metal and rain. My feet are bare, cold dirt pressing between my toes, but I keep walking because something is pulling me forward.
Not the mate bond. That’s gone, or shredded enough that all that’s left is scar tissue and a phantom ache.
Something older.
Something deeper.
My hand brushes a familiar rock.
There’s a faint smear of blood on it.
Mine.
I swallow hard and lift my gaze.
He’s there.
Damien stands at the edge of the cliff, shoulders bowed like the sky is sitting on his back. He’s in the same clothes he wore the night I left, sh
