I blink at her. Then at the house. Then at her again. “Your mate built this?”
She nods, not meeting my gaze. “Created it for me.”
I don’t even know where to start with that. “Jesus. Okay, first, he’s a terrifying, uhm”—I hold back from saying “demon”—“Hendroy who nearly murdered me, but his skill set apparently includes architecturally perfect recreations of romantic comedy film sets?”
Her mouth twitches. “Guess so.”
My eyes goggle as I stare at the stone walls, the charming little windows, the goddamn ivy crawling up the sides. “This is insane.”
Iris clears her throat, her gaze flicking towards the door as if her mate might suddenly materialise. “The Holidayis one of my favourite movies,” she admits, voice quieter now. “I always dreamed of living in a place like this.”
I let out a slow, awestruck whistle. “Damn.” I shake my head. “Impressive.” The second the words leave my mouth, I feel it. A sharp pang, deep in my chest. Not mine. Kael’s. I blink, confused for half a second before realisation dawns.
He’s jealous.
A laugh nearly spills from me, but I swallow it back. He knows I felt it too. The way he tenses slightly beside me, the way his hand presses just a little firmer against my lower back. I rub at my chest absentmindedly, trying to smooth the feeling out.
It’s funny. A little ridiculous, really. I could tease him about it.
But I don’t.
Because I passed out. Because he had to watch me go down, helpless, probably wondering if I was going to wake up at all.
Instead, I just exhale softly, letting warmth pool through the bond, through us, and I let him feel it.
I’m here.
And how the hell I’ve done that or even know that’s possible is beyond me. I’m going by pure instinct here. I don’t think he heard me as much as he sensed me.
Kael’s fingers twitch against my spine. And then, finally, the tension in him eases.
I’m sore, but I’m coping. I don’t know exactly what I was hit with or why I went down, but one of the things I’ve learned since being spliced through the rift is to not question everything. Some things just are, and survival depends on rolling with it.
Iris leads us inside, and the second I step into her cottage, I almost forget the soreness pulling at my muscles.
It’s perfect.
Warm and inviting, with wooden beams across the ceiling, a stone fireplace that crackles with soft orange light, and a couch so plush, I could sink into it for days. The air smells like fresh wood and something lightly floral. And then there’s the kitchen—a rustic dream, with dark oak cabinets, gleaming brass fixtures, and a sink that looks like it belongs in a period drama.
But all of that pales in comparison to what Iris hands me.
A glass of water.
Arealglass—smooth and solid in my grip, not some cheap, repurposed scrap metal.
The water inside is crystal clear, beads of condensation trailing down the sides like something out of a goddamn commercial. I stare for half a second before instinct kicks in. I bring it to my lips and take a gulp—then another, and another, until I drain the entire thing.
The cold rushes through me, fresh and impossibly crisp. It tastes pure, none of the metallic tang I’ve grown used to on Terrafeara. It’s clean, smooth, almost silky against my tongue, quenching a thirst I hadn’t even realised I had.
Pre-Terrafeara me wouldn’t recognise this moment—me, standing here, damn near orgasming over water. I lower the empty glass, inhaling deeply as the coolness settles in my chest.
Iris watches me with an arched brow. “Thirsty?”
“You have no idea,” I mutter, voice rough.
She smirks but doesn’t comment further. Instead, she crosses her arms and nods towards Kael. “All right. Spill. What the hell brought you here?”
Kael glances at me, checking in. I give him a slight nod, still clutching my glass, and he shifts slightly, facing Iris. “It’s aboutDawson,” he says, his voice steady but edged with something tight. “The new human.”
