Thunder rent the sky, rumbling loudly in the clouds, echoing her pain.
He held her son in the crook of his arms, his head tilted to the side as he stared at her with something close to fascination.
“I promise. He will be safe.”
Her knees buckled in relief and he wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her steady with one hand while holding her baby with another. The support of his strong arm broke her then. She began to sob hysterically into the chest of this strange man, holding onto the lapels of his jacket, crying for everything she was losing and the unexpected support she had found.
“What’s your name, flamma?” he asked her softly, and she looked up at him, surprised at the word he'd used, not knowing what he meant.
“Lyla.”
“Endless night.”
Is that what it meant? Endless night? Fuck if it didn't fit her life.
A shout from the woods made her straighten urgently.
“Please leave," she urged the stranger. "Take him. Now!”
Her eyes flitted to the round face peeking from the blankets, agony searing her as she leaned down to kiss his cheeks again, not knowing if she would ever see him again, not knowing what his fate would be but trusting the only choice she had.
“Be safe, little Xander," she murmured against his soft cheeks. "Be strong. Be loved, my beautiful baby.”
The man stayed still for a long second, watching her as she said her goodbye, before turning on his heel and walking into the darkness with the only thing she loved in the world.
PART THREE
Flames
"How can you become new if you haven't first become ashes?"—Friedrich Nietszche
Chapter eighteenLyla | Present Day
She jerked awake at the dream, her heart racing as thunder rumbled in the sky outside. She hated thunderstorms. As a child, they had scared her, and as an adult, they reminded her of the night she had lost her most precious gift—her son.
She had been close to eighteen when one of the men in the club had impregnated her, and though the child had been the result of a rape, it had been hers. She had spent months connecting to him, loving him, talking to him, and accepting that he would never know her. The night she had gone into labor, there had been a storm, and after hours of unimaginable pain, he had come screaming into the world.
The doctor had cleaned him up and swaddled him for her to feed, but she hadn’t. She had only seen the storm, known that most of the people on the grounds would be under shelter, and she had run.
Run straight into the arms of the man who would change both their lives.
After that night, she had never expected to see him again. But less than a week later, he had showed up at her work.
And again.
And again.
Until he became a fixture in her life, an anchor in the hurricane, a rock against the waves. Until he started leaving a trail of bodies of everyone who tried to hurt her. Until he claimed all the broken pieces of hers as his own.
She wondered why she had dreamed of their first meeting tonight. It could have been the storm, or the fact that he’d talked about Xander for the fist time, or the fact that he’d held her like he had that night. Whatever it was, need, pure, unadulterated need, overpowered her.
Unable to stand it any longer, she moved on silent feel to the door, going out and to the guest room, her heart pounding, but telling her it was right, the same instinct that had made her trust him all those years ago telling her to do it again.
Close to his door, she inhaled deeply and opened it, just needing to take a peek if he was asleep.
He was.
Arm thrown behind his head, another on his stomach, eyes closed and face restful.
Hesitating on the threshold, she simply watched him, the need inside her a turmoil.
Quietly, without making a sound, she tiptoed into the room, going around his bed, her eyes on his face in the light from the outside.
This man, as dark and dangerous and defective as he was, was hers.
She leaned down slowly, pressing her lips to his for a second, feeling his breaths on her face as his soft mouth against hers, before she pulled back.
She turned to leave, right as a hand ensnared her wrist in a steely grip, making her heart pound as she looked to find him wide awake, his eyes alert, intense, heavy on hers.
He waited patiently for her to break the silence, and finding the courage from somewhere deep within her, she did.
"Make me yours."
He was up from the bed, tipping her into his arms in one fluid move like he'd been waiting for her, taking her to the master bedroom as she gripped his shoulders.
The room remained dark, only the little moonlight coming in through the glass doors lighting up the space.