"Callie left?!" I spluttered. "To go where?"

On the way out of the Council chambers, I mentioned that it would be a good idea to bring Callie with us for planning. After all, she was the one with the most intimate knowledge of how Calen organized his cult and exactly what he did to convince people to join.

However, Callie wasn't here.

"She's going to go and get her family so they can come back here, too," Dante said. "We... Well, we should have told you, but we didn't want you to worry. We thought you might still be on bedrest until she got back."

"You should have told me," I grumbled, cutting him an absolutely withering glance.

As an escapee from Calen's clutches, Callie was in incredible danger. She needed some degree of protection and concealment, not to go traipsing around the world on random trips to and from the Veil. I understood her worry for her family, especially considering she hadn't seen them in who knows how long, but...

But...

I sighed. It would be hypocritical of me to judge her for this.

"It's a stupid plan," I finally said, "and I'd be doing the same thing in her shoes."

"Calen can't track her any more now that the tattoo has been removed," Dante said gently, placing a hand on my shoulder. "It's a smart decision, and it'll minimize any chance of blackmailing based on her family's safety."

"That... makes sense," I admitted with a huff. I needed to ask if my own family wanted to come here, too. Though the safe house was certainly a good place for them to temporarily shelter, I wasn't sure if things would be easier if they were close by.

Especially Dad.

Ray.

I still wasn't sure how I wanted to handle that or what I wanted to call him, but I wanted him in my life. It also appeared that Mom wanted him in her life, which was even better. My grandma would just have to learn to suck it up, especially since I was dating Dante—

Wait. Were we dating? We hadn't had that conversation yet. We were supposed to have that conversation before it was official? Or was this one of those weird social things that people expect you to somehow implicitly figure out even though no one ever really tells you what's happening, and then you look really dumb for asking?

I hated implicit social expectations almost more than I hated Calen. Why did everything have to be so complicated? Why couldn't I just ask the man if he wanted to be my partner? What was so awful about clarification?

"This way," Dante said, tugging my hand gently in the direction opposite my rooms.

"Where are we going?" I frowned, glancing over my shoulder. The hallways were empty except for a few random staff members, but we were leaving the wings I knew. The library and the guest rooms were on the eastern side of the palace, while Dante guided me west.

"My rooms. We'll have better privacy and more space there. Plus, I have a few books in my personal collection that I think would be useful." He didn't stop or slow his pace, his tone about as casual as it could be, but I found myself flushing a little.

I wasn't a teenager. I'd been to other people's bedrooms and houses before. It was just... something about the implication that I'd get to see his private space got me a little. He'd seen my apartment, but I hadn't seen how he lived.

My thoughts turned over on themselves like a whirlwind as we made our way down the hall. I wanted to know everything about him, and for just a moment that urge took over anything else, including trying to defeat Calen. It was nice, in a way, to have someone you never wanted to stop getting to know.

Dante stopped in front of one of the large, carved doors and pushed it open. I stumbled a little as we entered, glancing at the blue and green décor with accents in gold, live pink and white flowers blooming and vines that climbed their way along the walls, the bookshelves, even the ceiling. There wasn't even a bed— instead, this was obviously only a sitting area for a larger suite. The large windows on the opposite side of the room overlooked a gorgeous garden, but just as I moved to look closer—

"Aaaand you're done," Dante said suddenly.

I shrieked as my legs came out from under me, but not because I'd fallen. Dante scooped me up in his arms without warning, marching on past the sitting room like my weight was nothing. I knew it wasn't nothing, too. The man was clearly stronger than he looked.

"What the hell—?" I wrapped my arms around him on instinct as he adjusted my weight, moving quickly towards the far doors.

"You're on bedrest for a reason. You're lucky I didn't take you down to see the Council in a wheelchair," he grumbled, kicking the already ajar door a little more open.

"I thought we were planning!" I whined, but I knew my face was beet red as he walked us into the massive bedroom and plopped me down on a mattress that felt like a cloud.

"We are," he said. "In bed. Restfully."

I grumbled, but I was actually grateful. Walking down to the Council chambers and back up was the most activity I'd done since breaking my soul mate Thread, and it felt a little like I imagined running a marathon might.

Dante tucked himself in beside me, shuffling us towards the center of his, let's be honest, ridiculously massive bed. I'd never understood the point of a king sized bed, but then again, I was a cuddler. Clearly Dante was, too, and I found my thoughts drifting to sharing a bed at the safe house as he sat next to me with our backs against the headboard, surrounded by pillows.

"Now," Dante said, settling in. "What do we know for sure about Calen and how he uses his magic?"

How was I supposed to concentrate like this? Dante was right beside me, his body heat lulling me into a gentle state of sleepiness. The urge to curl into him like a cat and ignore the world was overwhelming, and I didn't dare look up at him. I'd want to kiss him, and then I'd die of awkwardness.

"He likes to rewind in short bursts," I said carefully, tapping my fingers on my leg. "He does it for maximum control. He said something about too many... branches?"

I couldn't remember the exact wording. I'd been under a teensy bit of stress at the time.

"That makes sense, in a way," Dante said, nodding. "The farther away from your starting point, the more decisions are between you and the outcome, and you'd have to redo them all every time."

That would stack up magically, as well. I wasn't sure how Calen's magic work, but changes didn't come without consequences. The more times he rewound, the longer he rewound, what did that mean for him and his magic? Who took on the consequences of those changes?

Rule Two: The bigger the change, the higher the price.

I set that rule not just to keep myself safe, but other people, too. Calen didn't care even a little about other people, and that thought terrified me.

"What was the price?" I whispered. "Changes like that... they don't just like to settle in place. It was too sudden, too severe. There has to be something that bounced back, but I can't see it."

I wanted to scream, but I settled for flopping backwards onto the bed, huffing as I hit the mattress.

"I wish I knew what to tell you," Dante murmured. "Is there any chance that losing your magic could be part of it?"

He made an excellent point, but I'd been thinking about that, too.

"I don't think it's totally gone," I muttered. "I can still see flashes, sometimes. It's like the magic is trying to figure out where to go, or maybe figure out how the balance works now that the Thread isn't there to clearly tie us together like sentient sides of a scale."

Calen said his magic developed in response to mine. I wondered if his was gone, or maybe it had moved to someone else possessing a little more sanity, but... Well, my power still existed. I had to assume that his did, too. And, like it or not, we shared those past lives. I cut the soul mate Thread, but removing a Thread couldn't erase the past. It could only free me from the effects of it long enough to help shape my future.

"I think he's recovering, just like I am," I sighed. "We've got some time for now, but... I don't know how much."

"Do you think he'd risk rewinding to before you cut the Thread?" Dante asked, and reasonably so.

"I was wondering about that, too, but I... Well, I don't know how it works, really," I said slowly. "I'm just guessing, but Threads don't just run through space. They run through time. I broke the soul mate cord built of all the lives I'd ever met him, so..." I trailed off, shrugging.

"You cut the Thread in the future and the past," he said slowly, eyes going wide.

"Maybe that's why it hurt so damn much," I grumbled.

Most of the time I couldn't feel it. Rather than a constant distraction, it felt a little more like an old bruise now. If I pressed and prodded at it, if I stretched the wrong way, or if I really tried to pay attention, it hurt. At the time, though, I'd never felt anything more painful in my life.

It got worse at night. It was like an aching, physically painful loneliness that woke me up sometimes. I still hadn't dreamed of Calen, but I woke up feeling like something was missing.

The only thing that made it better was... Well, being near Dante. He made me feel grounded and safe, like the connection we were building could survive anything. I reveled in the fact that what we had was something we purposefully chose, that it was something we wanted to work for, and it made the ache so much easier to bear.

"How do you feel now?" Dante asked hesitantly. "I didn't ask before because I didn't want to pry, but I've been worried about you."

"I'm..." I paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. "I'm relieved, mostly. Also scared, but right now I'm just glad it's gone."

I didn't want that connection. Whatever I had to do to be rid of it, I was glad it was done.

"Are you still in pain, though?" Dante asked, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

"It does hurt sometimes," I admitted, "but it's..."

This sounded incredibly stupid and flirty and needy, but it was true. Still, I was nervous to say it, and I couldn't look him in the eye while I did.

"It's easier when you're here," I whispered.

I yawn gripped me suddenly, and I couldn't bite it back no matter how I tried. Maybe Dante was right and I did need a little more rest.

"Come here," he said, opening his arms. "I was at Council meetings all night, and then I went back to the Council with you. I could use a nap, too."

"Sorry," I said sheepishly, huddling down under the blankets. I hadn't considered that I kept him up much later than he intended to be.

"It needed to happen," he said with a shrug, "but I'm ready for sleep, and you clearly need more of it, too."

He was right, as much as it bothered me that all I could really do was rest. I caved and snuggled in next to him, happy to tangle our limbs together. It made me feel better to be close to him in so many ways, and not just the pain of snapping my soul mate Thread. He was just... good. He was a good man, and I was grateful to have him in my life.

"Dante," I whispered, pulling him a little closer.

"Mm?" He just continued holding me, stroking my back, carefully drawing patterns with his long fingers.

"I think I love you."

Well, that wasn't what I was going for. It was certainly what came out of my mouth, though, and it was honest. I was more concerned about honesty than anything else right now. I didn't want weird social dances, or secrets, or hiding.

I just... wanted Dante.

"You think?" he asked lightly, but I could hear the tense undertone, feel his muscles shift where he held me.

"I'm not really sure I know what love is supposed to feel like," I admitted. "You know, after all this. I— I thought I knew already, but..."

I was wrong. I was so, so wrong.

I thought I knew about love because I was blessed with a soul mate. I hadn't understood it at all, though. Soul mates didn't guarantee love— it was hard work that made it happen. It was commitment to the relationship and the desire to stay together. It didn't matter one whit what the universe thought.

I'd rather put in that work with Dante than with anyone else.

"What do you think it is now, then?"

There was no judgement in his tone, but his blue eyes met mine in a way that made it clear he wanted answers. This wasn't a rhetorical question, and the knowledge that this might hurt my relationship with him if I fucked it up made my heart beat loudly in my chest.

I had to be honest, though. I wanted this, but I wanted the truth with him. I didn't want dances and courting and flirting in some strange social language that I could only pretend to know. I just wanted the truth... and the truth was that I adored him beyond anyone I'd ever known.

"I trust you," I said, nodding slowly. "You make me feel safe."

"And?" Dante pressed.

"And I like listening when you talk. I feel like we could talk about anything at all— I'd like listening to a treatise on paint drying if it's you talking," I continued. "You take your integrity seriously, and at first I thought it was weird, but now I think it's comforting and admirable."

I knew that the person I was talking to was real. This was his full self, and not someone he'd made up to impress me or perform for anyone. This was Dante as he wanted to be, and he stuck to his principles no matter what.

"I admire what you want to do with the Sylvan Court. I think you're caring, and capable, and that you like looking out for people. Also, your nose scrunches in a very cute way when you're annoyed."

"That made the list, huh?" he asked, laughing.

"It's a perk," I teased, but I quickly turned serious again. "I want you to be there. Just... always. I want you here. And even if it's not love now, then I think it could be. I want it to last, and I'll work for it if you will."

"I will," he whispered, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "I promise."

That was all I wanted to hear.