The night air bit at Niegal's skin as he stormed through the sanctuary's outer gates, each breath ragged and sharp in his chest. He needed to escape before the Lion within made him do something he would never forgive himself for.
No. She wouldn't invite that man inside. Why would she? The thought was a fragile anchor amid the storm of rage.
He clenched his fists, trying to control his breathing to slow his pounding heart, just as Señora Behike had urged. "Control the beast, or lose everything you cherish." She'd said.
But El León Negro prowled beneath his skin, a dark hunger gnawing at the edges of his will.
Why do you run? the Lion's voice hissed through his mind, low and demanding. Claim what is yours. Do you truly believe that serpent will honor you? Take her. Make her yours.
"No!" Niegal's shout tore from his throat, fierce and desperate. His hand shot out, smashing into the rough bark of a nearby towering tree. The wood cracked sharply, splitting in two, crashing down with a thunderous roar that echoed in the silent woods.
Chest heaving, Niegal stared at the ruin he had wrought. His knees buckled, and he fell to the earth, the cold dirt pressing into his palms.
"Damn it…" he growled, voice ragged and broken. "Damn it all… Elena…"
The clatter of boots shattered the moment. His eyes flared crimson, the corrupted fire within barely contained, as he melted into the shadows, disappearing before the guards could find him.
The soft glow of the hearth flickered against the worn wooden walls of the cottage, casting dancing shadows that felt both comforting and painfully empty.
Elena had set out warm bread, thick slices smeared with cheese, and a bottle of dark rum resting between two mugs, the tea long gone. She'd finally shed the woven blanket Señora Behike had draped over her shoulders, the weight of its warmth replaced by a tentative sense of self she hadn't felt in months.
Jaime remained, sitting quietly at the table, his presence a balm she hadn't realized she craved so deeply.
As the night deepened, the silence stretched, unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.
Her fingers curled tightly around her mug, and with a voice low and hesitant, she finally broke the stillness.
"It's late," she murmured, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat as she finished the last of her rum with a grimace. "Why don't you stay the night?"
Jaime's eyes flickered with surprise, the shadows concealing whatever conflict stirred within.
"Elena…" His voice was gentle, but firm.
She reached for his wrist, her fingers warm and steady, a quiet invitation. A small, encouraging smile softened her lips as she led him toward the bedroom.
Jaime saw the room was modest, the wide bed covered in a faded quilt, the hearth stone cold but ready. She kicked off her boots, settling on the edge of the bed, heart fluttering like a captive bird.
"It's big enough for two," she said softly, "We're both adults here, hm?"
With a snap of her fingers, the fireplace blossomed to life, bathing the room in radiant gold. The flames flickered across her skin, lending her an ethereal glow.
"Or," she added with a teasing smile, "you could take the chair by the fire. Your choice."
Guabancex stirred deep within her, whispering, urging her to close the distance between them, to let the vessels intertwine as they had in that vision. Coatriskie pressed against Jaime's thoughts, a tantalizing pull to reclaim what was once theirs.
But Jaime surprised her. He smiled softly, his eyes calm but unreadable, and settled on the far side of the bed.
"Thank you, mi Doña," he said with quiet reverence.
Elena giggled, the sound light and unexpected, as she curled beneath the covers after tying her long curls back with a dark satin ribbon. The expression she gave was soft and tired.
Jaime lay beside her, hands tucked beneath him, eyes already heavy with the weariness of the day and the soft haze of rum.
They lay facing each other in the flickering firelight, breath mingling in the space between them, until sleep, warm and gentle, claimed them both.