I don’t know for sure that Jarron will come. I don’t know how long it will take. But my hands are trembling. My heart breaking from sheer fear.
What if I’ve hurt him? What if this all goes to shit? What if I’m wrong? What if. What if. What if.
Some of them are stupid fears, some are legit.
But in reality, the thing that hurts the worst is the fear that I’m not worthy of him.
That I ruined this.
I take in deep breaths, trying to hold back the sobs threatening to overwhelm me.
I run my hand over the banister, taking in the limited view from here. Outside, the sand is glistening white in the harsh sun.
The smell of salt is comforting.
Here, in his house, are the answers to my most pressing questions.
Am I his chosen?
Because that’s what this place is, right? This is the house he’s been building for his chosen, filled with things she would love.
The High Orizian will throw their passion and excess energy into the building of a house specifically for his chosen. They fill it with everything their future mate loves. Her style, her smell, her favorite colors, her hobbies.
Will I know the answer the moment I enter one of these other rooms? Will the walls be filled with Liz’s old art projects? Will there be a ballet studio and a closet filled with clothes that are her perfect size in the bright spring palette she became obsessed with last year?
Or will there be an espresso machine, a library, and a potions workshop?
This is the physical proof I’ve been hoping for. It’s right here.
I could find out definitively right now.
This part of the house is pretty but fairly generic. The one room he took me to was also unspecific.
Because he doesn’t want me to know.
Trust me.
But the room across from it, that one made him nervous the moment I looked at it.
I hold my hand over my aching stomach, ready to heave my breakfast onto my shoes. It’s here. Right here.
All I have to do is turn the handle and get all the answers I’ve been praying for.
40
Agony
Heavy darkness drops over the room before I can see it, but I just stare straight ahead with unfocused eyes.
My soul is heavy and hurting. My cheeks are slick with tears.
I can feel him when he enters the room, but I don’t turn.
He’s seething, his magic pulsing heavily.
I turn to the seething demon. My eyes must be red rimmed.
His chest heaves. His wings are spread wide in the middle of the loft.
