Soon, the hot water would run out and I’d have to get control of myself. Why couldn’t the water last longer? I hated this apartment. I hated this building.

I hated my life.

My parents had been murdered for an ancient grimoire full of desperate, despicable magic that had exacted a terrible price. I’d lost my soul-deep connection to Zylas. I’d lost the special magic I’d gained with the infernus. I’d lost Amalia, the only family I had left. I’d lost the safety of my guild and all vestiges of a normal life.

And soon I would lose Zylas too.

I tried to bolster my mood with the reminder that Zylas and I had the chance to end summoning forever. If we could pull it off. If we could somehow perform the most complicated magic either of us had ever attempted.

Ending the enslavement of a race that my ancestor had begun over three millennia ago—I could do that. Me, the bookworm who’d been scared to learn magic.

But it would cost me Zylas. We couldn’t do it without sending him through the portal first. He had to be in Ahlēavah to cast his portion of the spell.

I shook my head, water flying from my hair. No, it wouldn’t cost me Zylas, because he’d never intended to stay. He didn’t want to stay. He didn’t want to be with me. I was just a human girl, a weak, silly payilas.

I bound myself to you. Only you, vayanin.

A tremor ran through me, and I shook my head again.

Because I promised.

Another more violent shake.

I want you to always be safe.

Why couldn’t I stop his voice in my head?

Whenever you want me, amavrah.

Fresh tears mixed with the water running down my face. I bowed my head, hands pressed to the shower wall. He was a demon. Demons didn’t care, didn’t love. I repeated it. Demons can’t love.

The words rang hollow in my mind.

I’d thought I could never learn to trust Zylas—but I had. I’d thought he could never feel empathy or compassion—but he did. I’d thought I could never love him.

But I did.

I loved him. I was in love with him, and I didn’t even know for how long because I’d been denying it so vehemently.

I was in love with Zylas. I was in love with a curious, savage, playful, protective, deadly, gentle, cunning, and surprisingly sweet man who happened to be from another world. It didn’t matter to me that he had glowing eyes, horns, claws, and a tail. It didn’t matter that he could turn his body into crimson light and possess an infernus. It didn’t matter that he was different from me in so many ways.

I loved him.

And I’d been rejecting my feelings—and rejecting him—over and over for weeks now. Even as I’d tried to convince Amalia that there was nothing wrong with me kissing him, I’d been denying the depth of my own feelings.

If I’d told her how I felt about him, would she have reacted differently? If I’d told her I hadn’t listened to her warnings because I loved him, would she still have left?

If I told Zylas how I felt about him, would that change anything?

No. It couldn’t. He’d always planned to go home and … and …

You are bad at telling me your thoughts.

I leaned my forehead against the shower wall. He’d always planned to go home—because I’d never given him a reason to stay. Maybe being with me wasn’t a good reason. Maybe he would laugh and scoff and call me zh’ūltis for suggesting it.

But if I didn’t tell him, I’d never know.

I shoved away from the wall and turned the taps, cutting off the water. Cold air hit me as I grabbed my towel and wrapped it around myself, then rushed toward the door. My courage wouldn’t last. The shy, self-conscious, fearful part of me that couldn’t handle rejection would overthink it and I’d go right back to convincing myself that nothing I said would change anything.

Rushing out of the bathroom, I veered into the living room. Socks was prowling across our papers, her green-eyed stare on my abandoned pen, but Zylas wasn’t there.

I whirled around and sped down the hall, leaving a trail of water droplets in my wake. Across the kitchen. Through the open bedroom door.

Zylas sat on the bed, still in his human clothes. His photography book was open on his lap, displaying the image of a mountain in Oregon. The mountain he’d said he wanted to climb, and I’d thoughtlessly blurted that he could, then even more thoughtlessly dismissed his interest by reminding him that he wanted to go home, not travel the human world.

He blinked at my sudden appearance, then rolled off the bed, tossing the book onto the mattress.

Breathing hard, I stood a few steps past the doorway in a state of panic. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t lay my heart bare. It was so much safer, so much easier, to reject him than risk his rejection.

Myrrine’s words whispered in my ear. Dare as I dared.

“Amavrah?”

“I don’t want you to leave.”

The words rushed out. Blurted, stuttering, awkward.

His forehead scrunched, that familiar expression of confusion.

“I don’t want you to go home, Zylas!” I didn’t mean to shout, but it was the only way I could say it. Clutching my towel to my chest, I squeezed my eyes shut. “I want you to stay with me. I want to be together and stay here together and go see all the places in your book and not have to say goodbye for a long time.”

Tears trickled down my cheeks as I finished in a whisper, “I don’t want to say goodbye ever.”

Silence.

I forced my eyes open. Zylas still stood in front of the bed, frozen with surprise, staring at me. Mysterious. Unreadable. No magical connection giving me insight into his thoughts and feelings.

So I had to share mine instead.

“I—I know you don’t want to stay. This isn’t your world and you’d always have to hide or pretend to be human or—or—and there’s nothing for you here, but—but …” A shuddering breath escaped my lungs. “But I still want you to stay with me.”

The selfishness of that declaration hit me hard, and I hunched my shoulders. I wanted him to sacrifice everything to stay with me? How cruel was I?

“Nothing?”

My gaze shot up to his.

“Nothing for me here?” He slowly tilted his head. “You are here.”

My mouth went dry, my heart thudding as though expecting a killing blow.

His tail swished slowly, then he stepped toward me, gaze sliding over my face. “You are my amavrah, Robin.”

“What does that mean?”

He stopped in front of me. “It means you are my chosen. It means I will risk everything to be with you.”

I reached up and pressed my trembling hand to his chest, fingers closing around a fistful of his jacket. “Do you want to leave?”

Only a moment passed before he spoke, but the silence rang in my ears, a death knell for my vulnerable heart.

“I have to stop the summoning vīsh. Vh’alyir created it. I know how to stop it, so I have to.”

A shudder shook me from head to toe. I exhaled roughly. “I understand. Our predecessors created the summoning magic. We have to stop it. We’re the only ones who can.”

If we didn’t, who would? Would my daughter, if I ever had one, summon a Vh’alyir? Would that demon, younger than Zylas, weaker, less confident, lacking Zylas’s unique skills, be able to form a bond of trust with a human? Would they have the ability or the motivation to end summoning?