Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 48193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 241(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 241(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
“Ryker,” I call, forcing myself to stay calm.
“Come home,” he says, his voice farther away.
I turn to look for him but only find dark clouds rushing across the sky toward the field where I stand. They’re tall, thick clouds, the undersides the color of a cauldron. The rain falls in silvery trails. It will be a heavy rain. Heavy enough to turn the fields to mud and flood the portals.
“Where did you go?” I call into the wind. My voice echoes but I hear nothing else. It snaps against my face. The front edge of the storm is on top of me. It has come on too fast and tears at my clothes, dragging the fabric across my skin.
The sun disappears completely behind the clouds. There’s a green tinge to the light. My hair comes out of its braid, and strands whip into my eyes. I turn away from that wind and start walking back toward—
Where? Our home?
There is nothing there but the darkened storm. Thunder rumbles and a loud crack of blinding lightning strikes and wakes me from my dream.
With a racing heart, my body jolts and in the distance there’s a gentle click of my front door closing quietly. My breath is stubborn to come and I find my hand over my heart.
My eyes adjust to the light and then I realize I’m in bed, though I do not remember coming here. I recall asking the cards for guidance, and sitting in my chair by the fire, and then…
Nothing. I must have dozed off. More than dozed, really. I must have fallen deeply asleep, because Ryker must have brought me to my bed, and I do not remember him lifting me. Slowly my heart calms and the cracking of the fire seems to dim the memory of the dream.
The blankets are warm and doing their best to make me sleep longer, but the guilt twisting in my chest will not let me fall back into the dream. Neither will the thought of Ryker carrying me to bed. I finally push myself upright, rubbing my eyes with one hand to clear the sleep, and there he is. My heart does a faint flip, and a calmness settles around me.
Unlike my dream, he’s not hidden in the corner of my eye. Ryker stands near the kitchen table, poised with his sharp features as handsome as ever. The stubble on his jaw only adds to his sex appeal. His gorgeous eyes meet mine, and a shock of heat between us makes me desperate to be free of the blankets. It’s dark outside, but inside my cottage, candles flicker to life.
“I have to tell you something,” Ryker says as I push my hair back from my face and find a tie on the pillow. I just need it off my neck. I attempt to hide my flush as I pull my hair back and calm my racing heart. His tone is deathly serious, and I don’t like what that does to me.
“I need to tell you something, too. It’s my fault,” I blurt out, my words stumbling out quicker than I’d like. All that time I spent dreaming, and I could have used it to plan how I would tell this truth to Ryker. Instead, I have thrown it out ahead of me, and now I have to hurry to catch up.
Ryker furrows his brow, his eyes narrowing. “What’s your fault?”
“I’m the one who—I did this.” I gesture at my chest. “I cast a wayward spell. I only had the best of intentions, but I think it’s my fault the portal doesn’t work.”
He crosses the cottage toward me, the floor creaking gently under his weight, and I stand up as tall as I can, bracing for his anger. I am the one who trapped him here. I am the one who shut down his portal and stopped him from going home.
“I—I will try to undo it.” I sidestep Ryker, my arm brushing against his as I rush to my worktable, reaching for the candle I burned to cast the spell for the wedding gifts.
There’s nothing left of it. It is down to a stub of wax and a crumbling wick. The tip of my finger barely grazes the wick, and it turns to ash. But even in ash there is intention which means there is magic.
The air in the cottage shifts behind me. I know without looking that Ryker has drawn closer. I can feel his heat, but he does not touch me.
“Ryker,” I bring myself to say. “I’m sor—”
“I believe,” he says from behind me. “I am fated to you.”
That stops the whirlwind of thoughts in my mind. I turn to face Ryker, forgetting the guilt and the relief and the uncertainty. His eyes hold as much guilt as my heart. Because he believes we are fated?