Robin sat up in bed, bathing herself in pale moonlight. Her chest felt heavy, her eyes puffy, her heart weak.
She touched her fingers to her eyes. She couldn't keep dreaming about him. She couldn't keep watching flames lick his skin, taste him, run their fingers across him. She couldn't watch her power devour him.
Not him.
But he'd never love her. He was a hunter; he'd never love a witch.
But she had nothing else left to hope for.
Robin looked up to the window, into the moon-drenched clouds.
"I'll wait for you."
Her knight in dark armor.