I rolled my eyes, even if my smile did betray me. ‘So, if not that, what did you want to say then?’ I asked, getting back to our previous conversation.
He took a moment, his fingers playing with loose strands of my hair. ‘I want you to know: you’re it, everything I want. I know you think I want to be this warrior, and yeah, it’s important on one level, but what you and I have – what we are …’ He shook his head slowly, holding my gaze. ‘Nothing else comes close.’ He kissed me, and the last part of me that hadn’t completely liquefied, melted. When he pulled back, his fingers brushed over my lips. ‘No matter what happens tomorrow – no matter what – tonight was exactly what I wanted and for all the right reasons. For you. Because I love you.’ His gaze grew intense as he stared into my eyes. ‘Promise me, Vi. Promise me you will always remember that.’
‘I promise,’ I vowed, my voice hitching on something – the way he was looking at me.
He smiled, and dropped back onto his pillow stretching out. ‘It’s amazing. Like my whole existence, my body, my soul, everything now finally gets it. We’re together and I’m finally alive. I can feel you, reach you, know you in ways I never imagined possible.’ He demonstrated this by opening our connection and as easily as spreading butter on toast moved his powers through me, drawing us together.
‘Scary?’ he asked, watching my reaction.
I moved even closer, hating that I was mere centimetres away. ‘No way. It’s perfect. Beautiful.’
I kissed a line along his jaw and his arms encircled me again.
‘If I ask you to do something for me tomorrow, would you do it?’
‘What?’ I asked.
‘Trust Phoenix. I can’t tell you exactly how I know – I just do.’
‘Did you two discuss anything else I should know about?’ I asked, studying his eyes. He was holding something back.
He put a finger under my chin and gently tilted it up to him. ‘Vi, promise me.’
He poured all of his heart into the request. Whatever this was, it was seriously important to him and I just couldn’t bring myself to deny him anything.
‘You do realise that’s the second promise you’ve asked for in a very short space of time?’
He smiled. ‘I do. But after this, I can promise you there will be no more talking.’
‘I promise.’
When we finally dragged ourselves out of bed, it was mid-morning – even though we’d only had a few hours’ sleep, it seemed pointless to waste any of our time together. I made coffees. Lincoln scrambled eggs and we moved around each other in our familiar pattern that was now so altogether different. And utterly delicious. We were adjusting to our soul bond – the feeling of complete and total connection with each other.
It felt as though we were in a constant dance.
Lincoln was fairly certain he would no longer need his silver wristbands, saying that his senses would now flow from me to him and be stronger than anything he’d experienced before. It was heartbreaking to know we’d never get to spend time testing the theories.
We ate our breakfast outside in our rocking chairs with blankets over our knees.
‘We should probably call Griffin. Steph and the others should be in the country – or at least on their way by now,’ I said, absent-mindedly running through my mental check-list, while my eyes roamed over Lincoln – a different check-list.
He smiled, and not because of what I’d said. I blushed and poked my tongue out at him, which only made him chuckle.
It’s a weird thing – knowing the end is near. You think it will be all panic stations, but … There’s relief. And a certain quiet. You can finally be yourself.
‘Seriously,’ I said.
He nodded. ‘Okay. Yes, we should call Griffin. But there’s no point doing that yet. We’ll call an hour before we leave.’
At first I didn’t understand, then it dawned on me. ‘You think he’ll try to stop us?’
Lincoln reached over and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my ear, his hand lingering. ‘Either way – it’s too cruel to put him in the position to choose. If he lets us go, he’ll feel like he’s sending us to our deaths. If he forces us to stay, he’ll blame himself for whatever happens to those kids.’
He was right. Griffin was the master of self-blame. I decided it was Lincoln’s call to make – he knew Griffin the best.
‘I can feel your heart beating,’ he said, changing the subject. ‘I was always aware of you but it was more like instinct, or when you were hurt, a kind of transference. But this … Have you always been able to feel my heart?’ he asked, awe in his eyes.
I nodded. ‘Since Onyx first hurt you. I felt it the morning I embraced. I was listening to your heart when I leaped from the cliff.’
He looked down. ‘Do you regret it?’