Stone’s agitation was a palpable force, thickening the air as they stood in the brighter, cleaner lobby of their new hotel. This place was a stark contrast to the seedy motel they had endured the previous night, with its welcoming lights and the promise of comfortable beds.
But comfort was the furthest thing from Stone’s mind.
Hell, he didn’t even know if it was possible to be comfortable anymore. It had only been a couple of days since this stupid curse took root but it felt like centuries trying to keep it at bay.
He was acutely aware of Ella standing close but not close enough—her presence was both necessary—like the air he breathed—and a source of deep frustration.
The curse pulsed within him like a second, discordant heartbeat. His connection to her urged him toward her, while the curse simultaneously drove a wedge of rage and resentment between them.
He knew another night loomed ahead—a night filled with the torment of being so near, yet so far.
The thought was fucking unbearable.
The clerk behind the desk offered them a smile, unaware of the tension that simmered beneath the surface. “We have a variety of rooms available. Would you two be needing one suite, or...?”
Before Ella could respond, Stone cut in, his voice sharper than he intended. “Separate rooms.”
His gaze didn’t meet Ella’s—couldn’t meet it. Not at first. The turmoil inside him was too great, the fear of what he might say—or worse, do—under the curse’s influence was a constant shadow that loomed over him.
Ella shot him a quick look, a mix of surprise and something else—disappointment, perhaps?—flashing across her face before she masked it with a nod toward the clerk. “Yes, separate rooms please.”
The clerk nodded, tapping away at the computer, oblivious to the charged exchange. Stone’s hands clenched at his sides, each click of the keyboard echoing in the silence that had fallen between him and Ella.
When they received their key cards, Stone’s were practically thrown at him, his own agitation mirrored in the stiff set of Ella’s shoulders.
That was fine. He deserved it, he supposed.
Jinx and Trudie exchanged a significant glance, but thankfully, kept their mouths shut.
The silence that enveloped them as they walked to their respective rooms was suffocating—each step heavier than the last.
Stone knew he was the problem and yet he couldn’t bring himself to outwardly care. However, that didn’t stop him from wishing he could kick his own ass.
When they reached their row of rooms, Jinx turned to Ella with a grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Hey, if you need us, we’re just a scream away. Literally. I plan to watch every alien abduction documentary I can find tonight.”
“Oh, joy,” Trudie muttered under her breath, but her eyes crinkled at their edges.
Ella managed a weak smile, the strain around her own eyes softening momentarily. “Thanks, Jinx. Just make sure to keep the volume down, or you might get abducted by an angry hotel guest instead. And I’ll be the first with the pitchforks.”
Their laughter, a brief respite, filled the space between them. But as Jinx and Trudie headed to their room, the laughter faded, leaving Stone and Ella enveloped in the pregnant silence.
He turned toward his room, the key card heavy in his hand, and took a deep breath, bracing himself for another night of battle against the darkness.
“Night, Stone,” Ella said from the doorway of her room.
Her lips were pressed tight but she didn’t linger or wait for his response before vanishing inside her room. He should be grateful because God knows what would come flying out of his mouth anyway.
Inside his room, the walls felt too close, the space too confined.
He was alone but far from peaceful.
The curse gnawed at him, a relentless presence that filled the room with its dark whispers and it was driving him insane.
A sudden need for air, for space, propelled him to grab his keycard and head outside. He didn’t bother telling any of them where he as going. He’d deal with the repercussions later, if it came to that.
The night was cooler now, and the sky a tapestry of stars, but Stone barely noticed.
His thoughts were consumed by Ella, by the curse, and by a desperate need to find a way to break it.
As he walked, the faint buzz of the city nightlife mingled with the distant chirp of crickets, and Stone found his steps slowing, each one a deliberate movement. He wasn’t sure where he was going, only that he needed to walk—to move—to somehow outpace the chaos swirling inside him.
This was worse than when he was ousted from the pack with the knowledge of who and what kind of man Silas was.
It was a new kind of hell if he was honest.
Now, not only did he feel disconnected from his pack, but he was also disconnected from his alpha—and his mate. Even though she was right there, sometimes even within touch. That is, when she didn’t recoil from it or he didn’t put his foot in his damn mouth.
That was fucking unbearable. It broke his heart each and every time.
The farther he walked from the hotel—and from Ella—the lighter the oppressive weight of the curse seemed to be. It was as though he could breathe again and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
In fact, it was a startling realization—one that halted him mid-stride.
Was it her proximity that intensified the curse’s grip?
The thought twisted in his gut, both a relief and a new kind of agony.
If distance eased the curse’s hold, what did that mean for them? For what they had—or could have had—without this damn affliction?
No, he refused to believe they’d be stuck with this curse. They’d find a way to end it.
They had to.
Stone’s footsteps resumed, slower now—more contemplative. A small park appeared ahead, bathed in the soft glow of street lamps, offering a bench that seemed as good a place as any to unravel the knot of thoughts that plagued him. He sank onto the bench, the cool metal a sharp contrast to his heated skin, and let out a long breath.
It was strange. From here, he could feel the bond that connected him to Ella so vividly. It was a vibrant thread that hummed with life.
This connection, this undeniable bond, was what made everything so complicated. It was supposed to be a source of strength—of unity. Instead, it had become a twisted lifeline, pulling him in with promises of warmth only to push him away with bursts of cold fury.
Stone leaned back, his gaze lifting to the stars.
“What are you trying to do to me?” he whispered into the night, half-expecting the curse or fate itself to answer.
The silence that followed was profound. It was the kind of quiet before a storm, or perhaps the stillness of a battlefield after the fighting has ceased.
The realization that he could think more clearly and felt more like himself away from her was a bitter pill to swallow.
He loved Ella, more than he’d ever loved anyone or anything, and yet, here he was, paradoxically finding solace in the distance between them.
Was the curse designed to make him isolate himself—to push away the one person who mattered most? Or was it a twisted test, seeing how far he could bend their bond before it broke?
Stone’s fingers curled into fists, the frustration at his situation, at his own helplessness, simmering just below the surface.
“How do I protect her from something I can’t control?” he murmured, the question hanging in the air unanswered.
The real question was: how does he protect Ella from himself?
The night stretched on, and Stone remained on the bench, lost in his thoughts.
As the waxing moon climbed higher, casting long shadows across the park, Stone knew this battle was far from over. But for the first time in a long while, he felt a glimmer of clarity—maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to fight back, to reclaim the life the curse was trying to steal from him.
But as he finally stood, ready to make his way back to the hotel, a lingering fear echoed in his mind.
What if he couldn’t find the answers they needed before the curse consumed him completely?
Or was he destined to lose himself—and Ella—along the way?
Was this a part of the prophecy?
That grand, final sacrifice it talked about?
Walking back to the hotel, the streets empty and quiet, Stone’s thoughts drifted to their mating. He hadn’t thought about it at all. Not once since the curse took hold.
How odd was it that the distance provided the momentary insight for that kind of reflection?
When they were in the act—it had felt like the claiming of the century. Hell, the millennium.
It was a moment of pure connection and profound love.
And it was all he had ever wanted.
They had been so close, not just physically, but in every way that mattered.
And then, as if someone had flipped a switch, the darkness of the curse consumed him, turning what should have been an endless source of strength and happiness for them both into his greatest source of pain.
Ella’s too, if the look in her eyes was any indication.
Who would do this? Who would curse him—and why?
Shouldn’t they be hunting them down?
Even if it had been the witches—what was the purpose of it?
It just didn’t make sense.
Was Andres trying a new tactic? Something to unsettle and separate them so he could take control of Black Crater?
That didn’t make sense either. Why not just start there?
Why do all the mind games with Troy?
The questions swirled in his mind, each one a torment of its own. The curse didn’t just threaten his relationship with Ella. It threatened his very essence, his soul.
It was a precision strike against his happiness and his future.
Returning to the hotel, the building loomed large and unwelcoming. Stone paused at the entrance, taking a moment to steel himself against the turmoil that awaited him inside his own room—inside his own mind.
With a heavy heart, he entered the building. Inside his hotel room, the weight of his solitude and the rush of the curse’s presence were more oppressive than ever.
Yet, as he lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, an idea began to form—a desperate plan, perhaps, but one that offered a glimmer of hope.
If proximity to Ella intensified the curse’s effects, then perhaps understanding the curse’s mechanics, as well as its origins, could lead to a solution. Much like finding the vaccine in the ailment itself.
Maybe there was a way to turn the curse’s power against itself, to use their bond—the very thing the curse sought to corrupt, as a weapon to break free.
But such thoughts were dangerous.
They carried the risk of true hope, and with hope came the potential for despair.
Yet, what choice did he have?
To do nothing was to accept defeat—to let the curse win. Stone wasn’t ready to give up—not on himself, and certainly not on Ella.
He would fight.
For Ella, for their future, he would fight the curse with everything he had.