Page 150 of Dare

In all this time, I hadn’t endeavored to recover the vial. Afraid to try. Afraid to fail. Afraid to succeed. To rely on that liquid again.

That wasn’t all. I glared at the vortex, my nostrils flaring with shallow exhales, panic crawling under my skin. Siren sharks could make a home down there.

Flare’s eyes. Flare’s smile.

I fisted the net, filled my lungs with oxygen, and dove in. The whirlpool clamped on, yanking me down its throat, the water circuiting and swallowing me whole.

Rotating, I opened my eyes. Phosphorescent light from above illuminated the void. Pumping my arms increased the pool’s hold, plunging me into its bowels.

I remembered this. As I thrashed and encouraged the water, its grip drew on my weight, wheeling me in.

My ribcage ached. My limbs smarted.

More. Then farther.

At this subterranean level, I could no longer see a fucking thing. Reaching out, I grappled for a foundation. At length, my fingers shaved the liquid and hit sand. I leveled my palms and felt around, letting the whirlpool tow me along the floor. Its speed helped to scout the area quickly.

Yet nothing. Everywhere, nothing.

The sand net, then. Which I had no idea how the fuck to use.

Withdrawing the handle from my belt, I took an educated guess and thrust the bristling apparatus against the ground, sweeping in a side-to-side motion. The longer I combed the bottom, the deeper the net burrowed. But each time it snatched something, the entity turned out to be a stone or reed stalk.

Careening back and forth, I kicked to ensure the pool kept me down. My chest burned, and my throat compressed. The water was choking me, the passing seconds tenderizing my flesh for the inevitable shark attack.

The net jerked and tightened like a fist, hooking itself to an object. I felt around the mesh with my free hand, my fingers making contact with a piece of glass, its fang shape affixed to a chain.

Yanking up the net, I caught the item. All the while, her words cycled in my mind.

All you needed to do was let go and stop moving … when you stopped, the water let you go.

Seizing the vessel, I let my body slump and felt the whirlpool’s hold loosen.

Overhead, swirls of black, blue, and green rippled from beyond the surface.

Yet I would freeze this world to see gold.

46

Flare

I would burn this world to see crystal. One more time to see those eyes, to feel them piercing me like crushed ice.

Or no, I wouldn’t burn this world for that, because it would be selfish. But I would forsake every sunset and sunrise. I would dwell in darkness for another chance to savor his face, hear his voice, and wrap my body around his.

At least we’d made it real. At least, for a moment.

I should be afraid, yet relief washed away the fear. Before sinking into this void, I’d been shivering, a terrible sensation biting my flesh. So much cold was drowning me, pulling me down.

But now the deep held me fast, nestling me into its embrace. At some point, I must have broken the surface. I sighed, expecting to feel the afterlife, someplace lush and vibrant and warm. Heat soaked into my pores at last, and blades of grass tickled my toes. Yet it seemed so real.

The whoosh of tumbling water brushed my ears. The scents of blustering winds and needle forests coaxed my senses. Then a set of knuckles traced my neck. The place where I used to wear a collar but didn’t anymore.

My eyes tore open—and found what I’d been searching for.

Two flashing irises stared down at me, so dazzling it hurt to look at them, so clear I might have been peering into glass. Dark blue lined his lower lashes, which widened as I stirred, relief and something bottomless consuming those orbs.

My villain prince.