Page 62 of Cursed Lifeline
“I’ve felt it for a year now, though I couldn’t be sure,” Felix shakes his head. Hope fills his eyes as they focus back on me. “I’ve been going out of my mind, driving myself crazy, waiting until I knew for certain to come find you.”
“And you’re certain?” I demand. “Without a doubt...”
“I wouldn’t have come for you if there was any doubt,” Felix growls. “What good would a drunkard do me if I hauled him around every time I had a hunch I’d found her?”
“I’m not that drunk,” I grunt, letting go of his jacket.
I stumble and only find my footing as Evangeline flings my arm over her shoulder and keeps me upright. Glancing down, my sheepish eyes find hers. I try to tell her without words how sorry I am that she has to see me like this. She smiles sweetly with understanding as if she can read my thoughts.
Wait a minute. She can. My eyes grow wide as I stare at the fae in wonder.
Felix grabs me by the shoulder and shakes me once forcing my gaze back to him. “Get sober. Stay sober, Alfred. I need you. She needs you. It’s finally time.”
Without another word, he stalks off into the night.
“When do we leave?” I shout after him.
“Tomorrow,” Felix yells over his shoulder. “Though I wish it were tonight.”
“It’ll take two weeks to cross the Atlantic,” Evangeline softly says as we watch Felix stride off, and she helps me down the sidewalk.
I point in the direction of my flat just a few blocks away. The alcohol is slowly lifting and my senses are coming back gradually.
“Felix would teleport us,” she says, “but his powers only work to carry himself and one other at a time...”
“Us?” I optimistically ask.
She blushes and glances towards the ground.
“Looks like you won’t have to sell your soul for more than one night with me if you were even being serious back there…”
I stop and turn her to face me. Her eyes are still cast low; I gently place my finger under her chin and raise her beautiful face until her alluring eyes hold mine.
“Seeing you tonight has made it impossible for me to ever imagine you walking out of my life again, princess.”
“Evangeline,” she whispers. When I don’t respond, only study her with reservation, she quietly says, “Please, call me Evangeline. Princess just sounds so...”
“Regal? Magnificent? Royal? Majestic? Epic?”
She laughs. “I was going to say aristocratic.”
Brushing my fingers across her soft lips, I whisper, “The only time your given name will ever fall from my lips is when I’m honored with the feel of your mouth feverishly pressed against mine for the first time.”
She sucks in a shaky breath.
“Until then, princess,” I step back and stumble slightly. She catches me and I let out an embarrassed curse. “I will rightfully regard you with the honor bestowed upon you at birth.”
“Alright, Romeo,” she chuckles. “Just point me again toward your place and we’ll see if you remember any of this come morning.”
I oblige and give her the direction she asked for when what I really want is to point us in a direction I’m hopeful we’re both starting to go - towards each other. As we start once again down the street, my heart hammers and my breathing quickens from the feel of her body next to mine and from the knowledge that she’s here with me after all this time.
In my mind, as soaked in alcohol as it is, there’s no question if I’ll forget any of this come morning.
I won’t.
The bigger question is, will Evangeline and I deny our feelings to stay focused on the game that’s once again beginning?
Twenty Two
