Page 114 of Ravenous

The world was coming undone. But the moon would keep rising.

***

Lowell

Ten days till the Hunter’s Moon

Pacing. Sweating. Drowning in shame.

Lowell had returned to the Witchwood three more times, each visit ending the same way: pleasure sharp enough to boggle the mind, followed by Meera’s tears.

She cried because she believed he was spellbound. Because she believed she was hurting him.

And he was hurting her each time he went to her.

They were destroying each other.

Last time, she’d begged him not to come back, had actually threatened to move into Strix Keep, of all bleak lairs, just to avoid him. She would leave her place of security and comfort—her beloved home with all her pictures and mementos, the cradle in the attic.

Because of him.

Regret swelled in his chest like an internal wound filling with blood.What is wrong with me?

He’d vowed to himself for the thousandth time that he would never seek her out again.

Yet even here in Craigdúr, hefelther. The tug was constant, impossible to ignore.There’s no way I can live without her.

He paced harder, feeling as caged as Thane would soon be. Outside, flickering torches glowed, illuminating the warlairds drilling below.

The kingdom prepared for conflict as the Accession gnawed the Skein like a slow-toothed beast. The moon would devour reason soon enough.

Two dozen of the strongest unmated warriors would guard the royals, but the rest would patrol the villages. The witches might strike them, now that they knew the Lykae king would be caged.

War between their factions crept closer, as if seeping through a buckling blockade—

A realization hit Lowell like a cudgel to the sternum.

He had to tell Meera about the portal. One last chance to be together before battles sparked. One last possibility before the door closed for another fifteen hundred years.

Thane and Ditch would never use it, but maybe Lowell and Meera should. In the mortal realm, they would know nothing of the coming wars. His mate could never exist there. Meera’s warlock mating season wouldn’t reach her.

They could live as if alone on a deserted island.

They could be free.

He would surrender everything. His vocation. His pack. Seeing his beloved parents and many siblings again.

Canna live without her.

Lowell crossed to his desk, sweeping aside official correspondence and reminders of neglected duties. He dimly noted that the Fey had written from their land of Faeholt, which was always important. A few words stood out in the flourishing script—force…calamity…ominous…Skein-wide—but he had other cares.I’ll get to it after.

He wrote Meera a letter straight from his heart, planning to slip it under her doorway.

One final chance.

He sealed the envelope with his official stamp, pressing it into warm wax until the insignia emerged, crisp and unmistakable: twin keys crossed before a full moon, the mark of the seneschal, and one he’d secretly been so proud to bear.

He held the letter in both hands, letting the weight of it settle into his bones. It felt heavier than parchment should, carrying the enormity of what he was asking.