Helena's POV
Everything becomes a haze when Victor sweeps me into his arms. Whether it's the tears stinging my vision, the fierce wind cutting through the air, or the overwhelming power radiating from him, I can't tell. I had pleaded for him to find me. I had cried out his name in desperation. And here he stands.
I press my face against his chest, breathing in that familiar raspberry scent that somehow calms the storm raging inside me. His arm circles my waist with such intensity I worry I might break apart. My fingers grip his shirt like a lifeline, terrified that letting go means falling into an endless void.
He places me down gently in what appears to be a crumbling sanctuary. Something about this place tugs at my memory, both foreign and achingly familiar. Firelight dances across his angular features, casting shadows that make his dark hair seem to move with a life of its own. His breathing comes too quick for someone who prides himself on perfect control.
