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CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

"So many books..." Drakon trailed off, running his fingers along the spines of the books.

I nodded, going up on my tip toes to peer up the man-made window. We were at ground level and the window was in a direct line towards where Tristian would appear soon.

I sighed, dropping down from my tip toes and crossed my arms over my chest. It was colder here than I thought. Small puffs of my breath came out and I glanced out the window again.

"Why does he have so many books, mom?" Drakon asked, stopping to take a book out and flip through it.

I sighed again and sat down on a wooden chair. "I guess he really loves books."

Drakon scrunched up his nose and put the book back. "Yeah, but this is a little too much, no?" He said, looking around.

The corners of my lips lifted into a smile as I followed his eyes. I've only been here once—twice if the first encounter counts—but it still amazed me how many books there were. The walls were covered with them and some even lay on piles on the floor.

From the corner of my eye, Drakon shivered and I stood up. "I'll go look for some blankets." I said, heading towards the archway that led to a closed door. Drakon nodded and went across the room to pick another book out of its shelf. I opened it carefully and gasped softly.

This was where I first woke up when he recused me from the wolf. The room still looked the same. The bed was oddly placed in the middle of the room, the walls covered with books. A small nightstand held a couple of books, a candlestick holder, and an empty glass. I felt a shiver ran down my spine when my eyes lingered on the bed. I still remembered the way Tristian's fingers felt against my skin, the way it had a lasting effect even when I was long gone.

My hand involuntarily touched my cheek, my fingernails grazing my skin. I shook my head, shaking the images that popped into my head and to shake the feeling he had over me.

I grabbed the blanket off the bed when something fell off and went under the bed. I clicked my tongue and I knelt down to pick it up, flipping it over to the page the book landed open.

My lips tugged down into a frown at the scribble written across the two pages over and over. I turned the book to the side, trying to make sense of the handwriting and there I realized it was holding it upside down. I rolled my eyes and turned it around, my lips parting when it was my name that was written on the pages.

"What the hell..." I whispered, flipping to the first page of the book. My eyes scanned the year written on the right-hand corner, the year I never forgot; 2004. The year I ran from a wolf and recused by Tristian.

My eyebrows scrunched as I sat on the bed, the springs squeaking under my weight as I leaned forward. I rested my elbows on my knees, bringing the book up to read but quickly closed it before I could read the first word.

This was Tristian's diary. He wouldn't want me to snoop around his room and read his stuff. He trusted me to show me his home, to bring me to safety. How could I betray his trust after all he had done for me and my son?

But then again... I nibbled on my bottom lip, eyeing the book as if it was the last slice of pizza on earth. This would have been my only chance to understand things from his view. He didn't want to tell me anything. He was keeping me in the dark and while it bothered me before; now it felt more urgent. Javon attacked us; attacked us because of something that I couldn't understand, and I was feeling tired of this dance.

With that thought in mind, I opened the book and started reading.

I never meant for this to occur. It was not my intention to save her. Once I knew she rose back up again, I wanted to spare her from any more misery and death. I wanted to break this curse and while it pained me to see her lead a life without me; I knew it was for the best.

She never forgave me when the time came. And I can't live through that. Not again. Not anymore.

But now here she is, on my bed, and the pull has become stronger. I should've just left her. I should've just let the wolf or some other animal take care of her. But once my eyes landed on her, there was nothing that could've stopped me.

I haven't cried since I last held her all those years ago. I haven't cried when she yelled at me, blaming me for the time limit she had over her head.

And now I'm crying, not because she's gone but because now the timer is ticking down since I carried her to my home. Now she is running on borrowed time and there's nothing I could do to stop it, no matter how much research I do to end this.

I stopped reading, lowering the book to my lap and looking around. The books...

I got up from the bed and started reading the titles. While some were poetry books or nonfiction, some titles caught my eye. I pulled them out, throwing them on the bed as I pulled all of the books that connected with what Tristian wrote in his notebook. I only had gone through two shelves when the bed was overflowing with books and sliding off the bed.

I sorted through the books, flipping through them to try to understand what he meant by "research". A few words kept repeating and I started to feel like my breath was shortening.

Curse. Dead rising. Spells. Demons. Witches. Devil's deal. Reincarnation.

I sat back on my knees, my eyes sweeping over the opened pages of the books. I lifted Tristian's notebook and reread it. I felt like it was a puzzle as I searched for each sentence in the books.

"Once she rose back up again..." I whispered and then headed over to a book opened on the page of reincarnation, my finger sliding along as I read how the author defined reincarnation.

"She never forgave me when the time came..." I mouthed and dug around until I found another book on death, the words almost exactly the same. I closed Tristian's notebook, not bothering to read his other entries.

My hand shook as I covered my mouth when it finally dawned on me what was happening. There was no other explanation. This had to be what Tristian was talking about when he said he was trying to protect me this time.

I'm the reincarnation of Tristian's love.

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