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“It’s too much to process,” he says, kissing me briefly.

“My dad is an evil warlock,” I laugh, shaking my head. “I thought my dad was just an unfeeling dick. Travis was worthless, but not demented.” I sigh. “Or maybe he was. He helped cover everything up and led Griffon to me.”

“I wasn’t a fan,” Lace says, stopping the car. “Being frozen isn’t something I ever want to do again. I don’t think I’ll ever look at ice the same way. My skin looks blue.”

I look at her and slide across Archer’s lap.

“You look good in blue,” I offer.

We stare at each other and then burst into laughter. I lean against Archer, holding my stomach. The owl squawks, and that makes us laugh harder. The day is crashing down, and my emotions are creeping through.

“Wild One,” Archer says gruffly, and I look at him.

My humor evaporates. He’s pale, and his breathing is increasing.

“Shit, let's get inside.”

Lace gets out of the car and runs to our door. As she opens it, I scramble out and turn back. Reaching for Archer’s arm, he stumbles, and I brace.

“Let me help,” Lace says, moving to his other side.

We hurry to the door, weaving, and Archer groans. I help him lean against the house so I can put in my code. Lace opens the door while I slide my arm around his waist.

“Lace, how are your protection spells?” I ask once we step inside.

“Good. I’ve been working on them,” she mutters.

“Perfect.” I keep walking, but Archer is getting heavier by the second. He doesn’t have long. “I’m trusting you to protect the house.”

“I can do it. Thank you for believing in me.”

“I do.” We cross the threshold of my room. “I don’t know how long it will take. Stay here. Don’t be alarmed if we don’t come out for hours.” I guide Archer to the bed, and he drops heavily on the mattress. I lift his legs and rush back to the door. “Don’t let anyone but Rome and Mara in the house.”

“Got it.” She looks toward the front door. “Do you mind if the owl comes in?”

“I don’t mind.”

I shut my door and lock it. Pressing my palm against it, I protect the room quickly before moving toward Archer. His eyes are closed, yet he’s frowning. I want to cry thinking of him going through this by himself. His hands clench, and I sit on the bed opposite him. Lying down, I cover his hand with mine and close my eyes. I don’t know if this will work, but I have to try. In my gut, I know I can help him. Our magic is connected even though we haven’t bonded yet.

Sleep. Find Archer.

My stomach drops as I land in the dream world.

I’m standing in front of a small cabin, and I hear laughter inside. My legs feel heavy as I walk toward the porch. It’s different this time. Darkness floats above me, and I can’t see anything except for the house. I feel cold, and I wrap my arms around my waist. Stopping outside the door, I pause; something doesn’t want me to go any further. It’s difficult to move forward. The nightmare wants to keep Archer within its grip.

The laughter ends, and the terror begins.

I grit my teeth and lift my hand to the wood. Emotions shoot from it and into my skin. So much anger and sadness. Black mist envelopes my hands, the darkness probes my skin, wishing to scare me. It pushes me, and I have to lock my legs. I’m not going anywhere.

Light. Love. Archer is mine. You can’t keep him in the dark anymore.

The door opens slowly.

Archer is a little boy, watching his spell work through his mom. She's frozen, her nightmare fresh, and her eyes blank. I see the shock and pain in his dad’s expression. The room is in shambles, the furniture broken, and shadows dancing on the walls. I swallow harshly, my soul bond’s agony is thick in the air.

“Archer, I’m here. This isn’t real.” I step inside, and he flinches. “You have to believe in me, in us.” I walk toward him, pushing through the invisible force wanting to keep me out, and his eyes flicker. “Babe, I’m not leaving you. Fight the demons. None of this is your fault. It’s time to let it go. Forgive yourself.” I stop in front of him and kneel. “Forgive the little boy who loved his mom desperately.” The scene continues to play out behind me, but his father's raised voice fades slightly. “Yes, it’s in the past. You don’t have to live this way.” I place my hands on his jaw. “Look at me.” He blinks several times. “Focus on me, nothing but me.”

His expression eases, and recognition creeps in.