You have to walk away.
“Where is Tucker?” She looked around frantically, as if he wasn’t sitting right in front of her, dying a slow death. “Please, can I see him?”
Whatever answer was given in her head seemed to relax her.
She sat still, expectant.
Then grew alarmed.
“No,” she whispered, reaching out. “No, it’s fading. Please. Just long enough to…”
A rusted sob emerged from her throat and then she went still, her hands reaching out once more and connecting with his face. “Tucker.” Her alert tone told him she was no longer dreaming. Should he have been upset or relieved? He didn’t know. Didn’t know how to feel and his nervous system seemed to take pity on him, numbing every single part of him, down to his fingertips. “Tucker, are you there?”
“I’m here,” he said dully, leaning forward so she could have better access to his face. “I’m here. You’re okay. We’re in my father’s yard.”
“You gave us a scare,” exhaled his father, sounding unsure and confused by the whole situation. “I-I’m going to run inside and get you some water.”
“Thanks, Pops,” Tucker managed past the manacle around his throat. He reached out to pick some grass out of Mary’s hair, smoothing down the wayward strands. “No cows this time, but that was still one of the wildest driving lessons I’ve been a part of.”
Mary shook herself. “I didn’t…I didn’t crash—”
“No, honey. Everything is fine.” He squeezed his eyes closed and braced himself. “Where did you go?”
“Nowhere,” she whispered. “Not really. It was a dream, but…” She tipped her head back and let out a shuddering exhale toward the night sky. “Oh, Tucker. I could see. The world is so much more…more than I ever imagined. There was a sunset and the ocean a-and red. I think it’s my favorite color.”
His heart swelled, his happiness for her eclipsing the pain, love flowing through him with such mighty force that he laughed brokenly. “That’s amazing, Mary. Damn, that’s amazing.”
“Yes.”
She sucked in a breath and held it, a deep groove forming between her eyes. He recognized her conflict. Saw the way it was already eating at her, this pure-hearted young woman. His love, his friend, his mate.
She’d promised Tucker she would stay, but that was before she knew exactly what she’d be missing—and now she wouldn’t know how to let him down.
So he would do it for her. His final act as her mate, as a being who walked this earth, would be to make this hard decision easier. For her.
As Mary was fae—and a blind person at that—Tucker didn’t know if she could be compelled. But in that moment, with so much anguish and purpose and intent trapped in his core, along with all the untapped power he’d gained by drinking from his mate, Tucker had no doubt that if it was at all possible, he could perform the feat tonight. With Mary’s happiness on the line, his body conjured the ability. Conjured it so forcefully that discarded items in the field lifted several inches into the air, the weather vane spinning madly on top of the barn in the sudden onslaught of wind.
Molten liquid rushed through his veins and a film dropped over his eyes, causing him to see Mary’s beautiful face through a hazy veil. It was as though his body went through the necessary motions, taking pity on him and numbing his mind, so he wouldn’t have to think any more about what he was doing.
What he would lose.
All he saw was what Mary would gain. Without him.
He leaned forward and spoke against her ear, his tone thin and rasping. “How about that slow dance I won?” Tucker said.
“Okay,” she murmured, her voice dreamlike, allowing Tucker to pull her up, into his arms where they swayed slowly, his nose buried in her hair and inhaling desperately, memorizing the shape of her against him. Pressed too tightly to allow a breath of air between their bodies. “But you lost at Jenga.”
“Humor me?” He allowed himself another few seconds, their feet moving slowly on the grass. “Sleep now, Mary. Go to sleep and don’t wake up until tomorrow.”
Mary shook her head rapidly, as if trying to clear it, alarm bringing her shoulders up to her ears, her hands twisting in the front of his shirt, though her movements were sluggish. “No, no, no. Tucker, wait…”
“Sleep,” he growled.
Tucker caught her limp body in his arms when it went lifeless. Moving on autopilot, he brought her to the back seat of the Impala, lying her down gently. With an invisible axe lodged in his jugular, he went to go say goodbye to his father one final time.
* * *
Tucker was numb by the time he pulled the Impala up to the gate at the end of the long stone driveway. Tilda stood waiting by her own idling vehicle, a cigarette perched between her fingers, smoke winding above her head in the nighttime air.