All Chapters of Whispers Of My Incubus Guardian: Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

AntonAt first, she couldn’t bring herself to meet my eyes. She stared down, her fingers trembling slightly against mine. But after a long, weighted pause, she finally smiled — a soft, bittersweet curve of her lips — and tightened her grip on my hands.“I have feelings for you,” she whispered, her voice barely above the breeze, “but it wasn’t allowed in the faction...so I forced myself to forget.”She gave a short, breathy laugh that sounded like she was trying to make light of something that hurt far too much.“I slept with others in their dreams,” she admitted, her eyes clouding with memories, “but no matter what I did, I couldn’t forget you. I couldn’t forget the way we opened up to each other so easily... the way we were so gentle, yet so passionate together.”I swallowed hard, feeling the familiar ache rise in my chest, and found myself confessing before I could stop myself.“I felt the same,” I said, my voice thick. “I tried...I slept with others, too, but it never worked. I eve

Luxiana SommerisDays passed—maybe even a week—and still, Damien hadn’t returned. The worry that settled in my chest grew heavier each moment he was gone, and when I finally tried to teleport to find him, a strange, foreign energy pushed back against me, blocking my path and leaving me more anxious than before.I hadn’t gone to see Margaret either, to check on her or ask if she’d heard anything, though deep down, I could sense she was alright. The energies that lingered around me whispered comfort, gently assuring me that she was safe.Damien was right all along—I truly had unlocked my full potential as a Oneiromancer. I could feel it pulsing within me like a tide that had finally reached the shore. There was so much more for me to uncover, to understand, to master, and even though I had come a long way, I was certain this was only the beginning of a much larger journey.Right now, I was trying to see if there was any way for me to reach Damien or anyone from the faction, to create a

Luxiana SommerisFor a moment, Damien just stood there, completely still, like his body hadn’t caught up with what his ears had just heard. His brows lifted in surprise, lips parting slightly as if he was about to speak but couldn’t find the words. The silence stretched, filled only by the soft rustle of the curtains swaying from the morning breeze slipping through the half-open window.“You’re not joking,” he finally said, voice barely above a whisper, like saying it louder might shatter the moment.I stepped closer to him, my fingers brushing lightly against his. “Do I look like I’m joking?” I said with a soft smile. “We’ve already wasted too much time.” “And I’m tired of waiting for the perfect moment when all we’ve ever had were moments we had to fight for,” I added.Damien’s eyes searched mine, and I could see it there—hesitation tangled with wonder, concern laced with hope. He was always so careful and measured, like he carried the weight of our fate in every decision. But r

DamienI woke up the next day with a strange emptiness beside me—she was gone. The spot where her warmth should have been was cold, untouched, as if she had never been there at all. I found myself back in my quarters within the faction, lying on the stiff mattress beneath the darkened canopy that filtered out any light. My head throbbed slightly as I sat up, trying to piece together how I had returned to this place.Had the grim reapers dragged me back again? It wouldn't be the first time. They warned me no, they made it very clear that I needed to be restrained, that I had crossed too many lines, failed too many times. They said my shortcomings were dangerous, not just to others, but to the fragile balance between realms.Still dazed, I rose to my feet and stepped out into the dim corridor. My mind was a storm of confusion, the edges of reality blurred like smeared ink. I glanced down at my hands, only to find the ring—the same ring we exchanged on our wedding day—still on my fing

Luxiana SommerisI don’t know when the drinking started—only that it never really stopped.At first, it was just a glass, something to take the edge off the silence. The kind of silence that presses down on you, curls up beside you, and refuses to leave, no matter how many lights you turn on or how loud you let the music play.But now the bottle is always half empty, and I’ve stopped pretending it’s for the taste. Every night, I sit by the window with a glass in my hand, letting the cold air slip through the cracks and wrap around me like arms I haven’t felt in far too long. The brandy tastes like fire and memory. Damien used to tease me for not liking it. Said I had no appreciation for the good stuff. Now it’s the only thing that feels real.I tell myself it’s just a way to sleep. To quiet my thoughts. To hold back the ache long enough to make it through the night.But I know better. I’m not sleeping. I’m floating. Numb. Caught between remembering and trying not to. Every corner of