“You vanished,” he growled. “Twyla didn’t know. Lillith thought something happened. And oh, right, I got cursed by a fae prince and nearly mauled by shadow magic while you were off—what? Brewing tea with forest spirits?”
Hazel exhaled, slow and deep, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Always so dramatic.”
From behind him, still within the thirty-foot radius that cursed their lives, he could hear Lillith’s laugh hitch, sharp and awkward. Twyla’s voice was still murmuring, but Lillith’s gaze had flicked toward them—watchful, wary, ready.
He was fine. For now.
“I was following the disturbance,” Hazel said, leveling a steady gaze at him. “Tracking the rift. It wasn’t random, Dominic. That storm? That shadow beast? The forest practically bled magic.”
His shoulders tensed. “So you knew something was coming.”
“I suspected,” she said, softer now. “But I didn’t know the curse would touch you.”
“Well,” he snapped, “it did. Right in the chest. Along with her.” He jerked his chin in Lillith’s direction.
Hazel’s eyes followed the motion and lingered too long. Her lips curved—not into a smirk, not quite a smile. Something sadder. Older. Like regret and wisdom had learned how to wear the same face.
“You’re lucky it did,” she murmured.
Dominic’s brow furrowed. “How do you figure?”
“Because,” Hazel said, stepping closer, her voice lowering to a hush, “if the curse had hit anyone else—anyone who didn’talready have a sliver of their soul tangled with yours—it would’ve been fatal.”
He blinked. “What?”
“Lillith,” Hazel said simply. “She’s the reason you survived.”
Behind him, he heard Lillith move—just a half-step. Just enough. The bond tugged faintly, like a whisper brushing the edge of his awareness. A soft gasp followed, barely audible.
Hazel kept going. “The bond didn’t form from nothing. Her magic… it recognized yours. Even in chaos. The prince didn’t make something new. He twisted what was already growing between you two.”
Dominic stared, disbelief crumbling into something deeper. Something raw.
“So what—this was fate?”
Hazel’s expression darkened. “I’m saying it was real. Long before either of you wanted to admit it. And as stubborn as you two are, this was the only way it was ever going to happen. My guess? Thaloryn was hoping it’d kill you.”
Dominic looked down at his hands—scarred, steady, but trembling now. The weight of it all pressed against his spine. This wasn’t just about being cursed. This wasn’t just some magical inconvenience.
This was survival tangled with destiny.
He hadn’t let anyone close in years. After the pride turned on him—after they made him doubt his instincts, his worth, his place in the world—he built a life on distance. Women were distractions. Fun, beautiful, willing distractions. But never real. Never deep.
And now there was Lillith. All sharp wit and spellcraft precision. Sarcasm and steel and those flashes of soft that ruined him.
He didn’t turn, but he knew she was watching.
Hazel stepped back, her words final. “Whatever happens next… just remember. The bond didn’t trap you. It revealed you.” She walked off without another word.
Dominic let out a breath that didn’t relieve him as much as he had hoped.
Twyla had wandered off into the diner again—bless her, she knew when to exit stage left. Lillith stepped up beside him slowly, guarded as ever.
“That was… something,” she murmured.
“You caught that?”
“Most of it. I mean, Twyla had quite the story, but I was more interested in tuning in to Hazel, especially after she stared at me like that.”
