What in the realms had he done to deserve such a blessed gift? It was almost too much.
Gaze never leaving her, Brand commanded the stone to cocoon them further, reinforcing the cave to keep them safe within. To keep anything and everything elseout.
As he finally settled in behind her and let his own eyes close on a sigh, Brand knew he would remember this moment forever. When Lunara, the little moon, became his.
“Mate,” he whispered, from the depths of his soul. At last.
Clawslong as she was tall skewered through her, ripping her in half, stealing her future before she’d lived it. They were almost gentle as they left her body gaping, gushing, unable to draw air.
Hazel eyes begged for more than she had to give. The life was bleeding out of her, darkness consuming her—both from the outside and from within.
A rush of desperate energy barreling in, such as she’d never felt before. Just enough to save him—her final act.
Dust and stone and screams before she was laid to rest in golden light by hands that stole her breath and sense. Hands she would never feel again once the Veil opened its arms for her instead.
One last look before a wave of blinding pain that put all the rest to shame, and Lunara the Moonweaver met her grisly end.
Fucking stars above, she was de?—
Lunara awoke on a gasp, frantically clutching her stomach.
Whole. Entirely healed, as if thatthinghad never touched her.
She could have laughed, but her lungs were still clenching, the fire of terror licking over her sensitized skin.
Somehow, she was alive—and she was ensnared beneath a very large, solid arm.
Brand.
His name was perched on her lips when she caught sight of his muscled chest, rising and falling with even breaths. Of the two, blaring puncture wounds over his heart, perfectly placed within a bruised circle.
The fang marks were stark in the dim lighting, faint blue iridescence glowing at the edges amongst golden-red hair.
Oh no. No, no, no.
Memory flooded her at the sight. Her startling rise back to life from a cold void of nothing. Her veins singing, flesh knitting. Her body?—
Weeping fucking moons.
She’d tackled him and… and…
The dwindling terror of her nightmare was replaced by burning embarrassment, a flush suffusing her cheeks.
She’d blooded him—right before grinding her way to completion and falling into the best damned sleep of her life.
Lunara’s stomach lurched, and a lump of denial lodged itself in her throat. Tears sprang forth even as her heart stuttered, her mind and body locked in battle over whether she should be ill or elated.
What have you done?
Finding a true mate wasn’t uncommon, per se, but Lunara had never once seriously entertained the possibility for herself.
Some creatures spent their entire lives waiting and hoping, never finding theirs and dying alone. Some gave up and bound themselves with a chosen love, but it didn’t always fare well between them. The fortunate ones were blessed by the Sisters, finding the soul destined to collide with theirs in perfect, incandescent harmony.
Lunara scanned Brand’s sleeping face, admiring the strong lines of nose and jaw, the muted fire of his hair and short beard, the raw curve of his horns. So at ease, the worry gone from his brow. So stunningly beautiful.
All the signs had been there. The instant attraction, the calm when she was near him. The way it was so bleeding easy to forget she was supposed to be hiding for the rest of forever, because he made her feel like something else could be possible.
She should have known. Should have seen that he was hers.
